On an island born to party, populated by a
tribe of Lost Boyz, is it any wonder that
South Beach birthdays are celebrated like Mardi Gras? A
weeklong festival, one party after another, you slosh from one
bar to the next, to the club and then to the after-hours— And
heaven help you if there’s more than one b’day boy—as there was
this past weekend. First it was Chad Richter, the new Chair of
Winter Party Festival, and then it was Josh of Sobegayinfo.com.
Back and forth, we bounced—as the two of them led their party
posses through the thicket of South Beach nightlife.
There was the requisite (and swank) house party
on Friday, with jaw-dropping views across the bay as a full moon
lit the Miami skyline, and where DJ Sayho dropped the beats
while the boyz clustered around Brazilian cream and
strawberries—which led us into Saturday where we finally
surfaced at Halo Lounge, just as the Miami Beach Bruthaz were
celebrating with an Andrew Christian/Parke&Ronen fashion show,
with fierce beats by DJ Daniel Kristopherre—and a b’day cake so
decadent our teeth had a fall-out. The place was packed! From
there, it was on to JetSet in Fort Ladida for Hilton Wolman’s
Fireball, where DJ Abel was blowing up the place—and then on to
Discotekka—or at least it was for some heathens—who weren’t seen
again until Sunday afternoon for the Beach Blanket Collapse on
12th Street Beach—before moseying over to the Palace
to get, in the words of b’day boy Chad, “more liquored up.”
From there, everyone took a quick fashion febreeze—before
slamming into CLICK @ dek23, where the sparklers and the boyz
were fashizzling and where the goodie bags were by Ed Hardy (spangly
b’ball hats and inflatable pool balls—in PINK!) DJ Kid Madonny
was doing a solo seven-hour set, which kept showgirl Adora
twirling down the catwalk—while the b’day boyz held court and
guzzled vodka and champagne (Try it—you’ll like it!).
Everyone put in a cameo: there was Dale Stine and Flavio Nisti,
and Edison Farrow, and
Miami glam goddess Chyna, of course, as well as Michael Stanley
on the door. And Jason and Radim, and Eric and Jarrod, and a
bevy of South American beauties—which was maybe one reason why
everyone got increasingly frisky. Last we heard, stumbling down
Washington Avenue
at
three a.m., the whole hedonistic bunch of them was
boarding the party bus and heading—who knows where?
Birthdays—if you got ‘em, you might as well celebrate ‘em. As
if this crowd needed another excuse to party…
