I’d post a photo to go along with my review of VILLA, but they don’t allow photos inside. Really, VILLA is the queen of Hollywood snobbery.
It’s a small space–one room with a balcony, so the door goon has the ability to turn away anyone he pleases. VILLA is known for its exclusivity. NO ONE, it seems, can get in, and paps spend half their nights outside of it. Just check out TMZ.
If you do make it past the pearly gates, you’ll find a room stuffed with beautiful people–anorexic models and men with high cheek bones– and money out the ears. But you won’t find much more. The decor is pirate cosmopolitan, ropes hanging from the ceiling like a skeleton.
VILLA is exactly like the people held within it: beautiful, but not much substance.
I’ve been working in the nightclub business for the past couple of years. While I think bottle service is ridiculous, it has paid for food on my table and a roof over my head.
An added benefit has been a crash course in the business of nightlife. What I’ve realized is that in a city like LA, nightlife is a world of its own.
Clubs come and go faster than a rainstorm or the latest fashion trend here. The best recent example of this is GOA.
I went to GOA right after it opened. A beautiful chain-link ceiling, large spacious rooms and a beautiful crowd made is seemed destined for Hollywood greatness. But it turns out GOA is already floundering.
Because of a licensing conflict, GOA is changing into a restaurant. This Friday is the last night for one of their biggest promotions.
There have been several complaints about the noise and over-capacity of the place as of late, filled with D-list wanna-be-celebs like Heidi Montag. So, the owners are putting in tables, and serving sushi.
Even though they’re trying to stay afloat, most people know that a nightclub serving food doesn’t float well here. You don’t want to dance where you eat, most of the time. So, it is only a matter of time until GOA sinks all together.
Crowd at Goa
On Friday, I got a call from one of the other waitresses at my club who told me a strange, convuluted story about the nightclub I have been working at for the past year. Apparently, the Mexican owners of the club have not been paying rent for the past couple of months, so the landloard swooped in, changed the locks and kicked everyone out. Meaning, just like that, the club has closed and my cushy money job is gone.
I should have seen it coming. My last two paychecks have bounced due to insufficient funds. They actually held the last one from us because there was no money. And they haven’t been reordering supplies.
The only reason I have loved working at nightclubs is the money is ridiculously good compared to the amount of work I actually do. Sure, I’ve had to deal with corrupt owners, bad hours, illegal activity and annoying customers, but overall, it has been worth it.
Soon, if the club doesn’t reopen, which I doubt it will, I have to embark on a journey to hunt down those unpaid paychecks. It could mean a serious man hunt since the owners have dissapeared back into their Mexican haven. Wish me luck…