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It’s been Twilo and Stereo—and now, heaven forfend, it’s ParkWest,
which as someone pointed out, seems more like a moniker for a
retirement home—but last night, the Club With No Fixed Name became
Hilton’s House, starring Manny and Tony. The inaugural event
of Hilton’s new monthly Saturday night party called BPM (aka Boyz
Per Minute, or Best Party in
Miami), the night was a perfect opportunity to deposit more good
karma in a space still evolving. This was less Manny BoomBoom than
Latin Manny with his salsa-flecked “Let’s Get This Party Started
Right”—and that’s just what he did.
What with the differing
ETA
of the FTL and MIA crowds (approximately a ninety-minute delay for
those living closest to the club), there was time to scope out the
décor between cocktails and conversation (and concern for those
accidentally squashed vitamins…) Under massive chandeliers, we noted
the better half of Equinox Fitness as well as that California model
who showed up at last year’s Winter Party—and never left. And even
a couple boyz wearing our version of thug—which means gay thug
with a twist.
And then, suddenly—EVERYTHING KICKED! As if everyone knew
right then that this was the moment to go off. Or to paraphrase
that MasterCard ad, How much is it worth to party with
professionals? PRICELESS. Let’s hear it for those
irrepressible SoFla boyz! Boyz with no qualms about jumping around,
their faces all smiles. Or more concisely, as Britney would have
it, “Gimme More.”
There were men with shoulders like Matthew Rush (“How do you get
a neck like that?” “Oh, puhleeze—is that a serious question? Do you
read the papers—we are the news.”)—and a pretty young
thing, a younger Jonny McGovern, scoping out the scene, soon to make
it his, his t-shirt admonishing
GET SOME EVERYDAY—to which there was no other response but
“Happily.”
Last night’s BPM quickly became the kind of party where maybe you
were supposed to leave at a certain hour, maybe because you had to
get to work in the a.m.—but when that appointed hour hit, and you’ve
got a dick in your hand and a smile on your face—ain’t no way you
were leaving. “Take a breath. Feel my heartbeat. Every flash like
a strobe light flash. Baby, better make it last. MAKE IT LAST.”
And when Tony took over and let loose with “La Mustika,” clouds of
carbon dioxide enveloped the floor—leaving the boyz as close to
heaven as they wished to be here on earth.
Small wonder that as we were leaving, we watched two fresh-faced
arrivals bounding up the entrance stairs, giddy from all that they
could suddenly see—in front of them. “Make it last.”
And to think this was but the opening salvo of a three-party New
Year’s Eve weekend— Second act tonight—Last Dance with David
Knapp at Gerry Kelly’s gorgeous new club The Fifth. And then, for
the finale, Monday night’s Masterbeat Miami 2008 at SoHo Studios
with DJ Abel—a full twelve-hour concert. As the song says, “Make it
last”—there’ll be plenty of time for sleep next year.
Best always,
Mark and Robert
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