lit
secrets and lies!

by marke b.

MONGOL HORDES INVADING SoMa. Blood-soaked trannies captured on film. Preteen DJs exploding. Bay Area nightlife is fueled by scandal – isn't it lovely to be in the know? Welcome to Bars and Clubs' new anti-socialite column, guaranteed to keep you current on who's zooming who and where. Pour yourself a tall one and scoop the latest juice. But hang on to your pearls, sweetheart: This ain't no Paper City charity ball recap bullshit.

Party out of bounds

Spa spaz Still mourning the death of Hotel Ibiza, wet-and-wild jet-setters are checking into Hotel Vitale (www.hotelvitale.com), the brand-spanking-new spa-resort hotel in downtown SF from Joie de Vivre, the team that brought you pretty much every Bay Area boutique hotel you've ever thrown up in the lobby of. Its huge open terraces and sparkling hot tubs are the Miami-wannabe party crowd's dream. But that's turning out to be a nightmare for the proprietors, who are aiming more for Sonoma retreat than Kelly's Mission Rock-out. According to a former employee, all hell broke loose at a recent bacchanal hosted by "culture marketing group" Vintage 415 (www.vintage415.com) when the party turned into an all-nite rager, strewing a trail of debris throughout the "post-hip urban sanctuary." Some revelers even went so far as to pry the letters off the marquis. Why wasn't I invited?...

Pimpsterdam! Well, it's finally here, and you're gonna love it, at least for a couple of months. The San Francisco installment of that world-famous Dutch treat, supperclub (www.supperclub.com), is heavy into its launch party cycle, and promoter Michael Anthony and hash-eyed lounge lizards everywhere couldn't be happier. Too bad Mayor Gavin Newsom was a no-show at the star-studded preview shindig, where the mayor of Amsterdam, specially flown in for the event, exhorted the dazzled but befuddled crowd to either invest in the Dutch economy or – even better – maybe just go live there instead. I'm feeling that might not be the way to fill the new space up, but hey – I still crack up about their leaky dykes, so what do I know from Dutch-style politickin'? Fortunately, the space is pimped-out wholesale, with plenty of sly nooks and crannies to keep you hooked on the SF product.... Mongol hordes A certain well-established promoter was recently sent into a tizzy when hundreds of Mongolian hipsters thronged into Studio Z (www.studioz.tv) for a last-minute booking that featured Chinggis Khan singer Jagaa. "It was amazing – we had no idea where all these people had come from, and were dramatically understaffed," the promoter told me. Still, she added, the performance, and the crowd, was out of this world. Mongo-pop? You heard it here first, folks.... Ending up When I first heard that the Endup was on the market for 800K (800K! That's $9.25 per shirtless boi!), I sighed and figured we were in for another round of "Save the Endup!" false alarms. But it's true, folks. Owner Carl Hanken has decided to forgo the $12,000 in monthly rent his parties bring in and retire in style after 20-some years of hosting San Francisco's most outrageous public overdoses. Will this legendary bastion of binges go the way of the recently shuttered Movida Lounge and the Whiskey Bar? Here's hoping the new owner doesn't convert it into an Applebee's. (For further conjectures on that point, see Amanda Nowinski's poignant Endup remembrance....

Iris Garcia at Madrone Lounge
Neighborgoodies Club kids, artistes, and foofy cocktail-lovers everywhere have been raving about Panhandle pioneer Madrone Lounge (www.madronelounge.com) for months now. The nightspot's gorgeous owner, Leila Fakouri, is credited by some with almost single-handedly revitalizing the neighborhood, starting with the historical Victorian in which Madrone is located. The blocks between Madrone, the Independent (www.theindependentsf.com), and super hush-hush watering hole Bar 821 (www.bar821.com) are hopping nightly with fresh-faced party people, with more upscale bars and restaurants on the way. (Take that, TenderNob!) But that hasn't sat well with some of Madrone's curmudgeonly neighbors, who aren't thrilled with all the changes. Fakouri's ingenious solution? She's giving nearby residents permanent free passes, so they can make Madrone their second home. (Full disclosure: I'm one of them). "I want everyone to come see how much I love it here," Fakouri gushed during a recent phone conversation. Fabulous! Where do I set up my futon? Look for a Persian invasion this summer, when Fakouri's cousin Shahin, from NYC's Narnack Records, kicks up Madrone's programming.... I heard a Rumour "We want to create an option to dancing with tweakers at the Endup, or guzzling beer with bears, or cha-cha-cha-ing at El Rio. Not that we have an issue with any of those parties ...," says ex-Rehab bad girl Marcia C. Gagliardi about the upcoming launch of her and partner Ryan Robles' as-yet-unnamed Sunday-afternoon shindigs ("Not a tea dance! We're not old enough to even know what that means!"). The exact details are still as fuzzy as my memory of last night's trick, but look for a lot of daylight disco tragedy this summer. Meanwhile, the dauntless duo continue their wobbly journey though the night with their ultraexclusive 'Rumour' loft parties (www.rehabsundays.com), featuring fierce DJs from around the country and more old-skool late-night NYC vibe than befits such brash youth.

Up-and-coming

Marvin at Rumor
Jazz it up Most scenesters hear the words North Beach Jazz Festival (www.nbjazzfest.com) and hit the snooze button. Well, look alive, people! One-woman Bay Area P.R. powerhouse Candida Martinez (formerly of Justice League, currently of any-club-worth-going-to fame) has just snagged the fest as a client, along with the S.F. Funk Festival and Michael Franti's 'Power to the Peaceful' patchouli-fest. If anyone can make a hoary chestnut shine, she can – so mark your calendars and prepare to broaden your horizontals.... Little devils No, dear, that's not a midget on the turntables, it's a child. The Norcal DJ Academy (www.norcaldjmpa.com) just launched its 2005 Youth Summer Camp, with a slew of 12- to 18-year-olds bustin' up soundz in the new style. The current class of cuties, under the tutelage of fave-rave DJ Amber, tore up Monster Park at the Giants' opener. Watch your backs, established jocks.... Ones to watch Many of you have remarked that I'm just some old left-field queen with nothing to do but bitch about the scene and make trouble. That may be true, but hey – I'm not so old that I don't know which names to drop to keep me in future cocktails. Who do I see in the club crystal ball of tomorrow? I see Kitty, the drop-dead sex goddess tranny who wowed 'em at Miss Trannyshack by getting branded live onstage while lip-synching Billie Holiday. I see Brontez, the illegal-minded skatepunk fag who recently led an after-hours naked parade down Polk Street with a boom box and who's single-handedly reviving that ol' homocore feeling with his boyzines and Bob's Donuts outlaw parties. I see DJ Neon Leon, back from Berlin with a new set of teeth and a crate of neo-disco platters that promoters are scrambling over. I see the kids at Down Low Wednesdays at Skylark, reviving drum 'n' bass, and the kids at Jack at Underground SF, reviving acid house. I see the rise of skateboard tricks on the dance floor, with Hush Hush Lounge and Milk already leading the way. And I see me, of course, in the little mirror on my monitor.

Out and about

Gurlz on film Every afternoon I'm jolted out of bed by the question "When is that damn Trannyshack movie finally coming out?" During a recent liquid lunch with one of the film's ingenues, I was reassured that not only is the independently produced doc about San Francisco's favorite trash-drag glee club premiering this summer, but it's also been reshot to give it "more of a cinematic feel." It also ran low on funds: Apparently shooting a shoeless drag queen as she stumbles down Polk Street at 5 a.m. costs a bundle. Can you help? Direct your donations to www.heklina.com. Needy trannies are standing by.... Porn to be wild Rumors were flying that the folks behind the Folsom Street Fair would be cracking down on some of the more lascivious displays of affection this September, even going so far as to deny local fuck-film faves Raging Stallion Studios a spot on the main drag because of last year's raunchy goings-on in their booth. The hearsay turned out to be bunk, however, and the organizers have assured me that this year's festivities will be every bit as shocking as we've come to expect. Wait, isn't that an oxymoron?... Porn again OK, I'm starting to freak out. Not one but two reports of well-known, San Francisco-based porn stars converting to Scientology have been whispered in my ear. One instance actually involved the discovery of a dog-eared Dianetics copy in the locker room on the set of a recent fisting flick. Tom Cruise would be so proud.... Trannies on the tables I love Sister S.F. (www.sistersf.com), that underground gaggle of fallopian warriors who've upped the Bay Area's after-hours girl power ante. Every year they turn the turntables on the men, challenging Big Names in male musical domination to spin sets in wigs and heels for charity. And this year's no different, with longtime DJ faves Spesh, Smoove, and Murphstar rumored to be donning autumn-peach lipstick and Laura Ashley dresses at the 'DJs in Drag' event at Mighty (www.mightysf.com) on Aug. 19. Don't forget to tuck that 12-inch in its sleeve, boys.

Summer lushin'

Lime in the coconut Last season's triumph of the sake mojito effectively put both the sake cocktail revolution and the mojito brouhaha on ice once and for all. And if I hear about one more bar offering champagne service, I'll slit my wrists with bargain-bin Thievery Corporation CDs. So what's the hot summer tipple? My call is huge table-shared tropical concoctions like those served at Trader Vic's (www.tradervics.com) – they're cheap, they're strong, and they certainly bring people together (watch your forehead near those straws). Plus, sharing rum in a tub brings back such warm, fuzzy middle school memories.... Jakku Daniels-san Another lush-ious trend to watch is the return of that gold devil, whiskey, this time around not as a tough-guy Internet sales rep prop, à la Jim Beam and Diet, but opened up to more sophisticated, international possibilities – and by that I mean expensive, of course. Sayonara, Tennessee, the distilleries of northern Africa and Asia are about to pounce on the Bay Area moonshine market. In fact, an adorable, single bird just chirped in my ear about a hush-hush, multimillion-dollar establishment opening soon that will have you clamoring for $250 bottles of ol' yeller in an upscale Tokyo-like atmosphere. Sip it slow, girl: It's a long stumble home to the dojo.

Got a hot tip? Put your bug in my scuttlebutt.

Marke B. is the same crooked-walkin', shit-talkin' club trash who can barely get it together enough to send in his biweekly Super Ego club column on time. He once dreamed he ate Michael Musto for breakfast – and liked it. Ew.