Hollywood Jackpot
Pop quiz, hot shot: Your bus from Iowa just docked in L.A. and you’re looking for a place to party, Vegas-style. Where do you go, where do you go?
Enter Drai’s, the much-hyped club at the new W Hollywood. In Vegas, Drai’s is where you go after losing a shit ton of cash at the tables and being unwillingly dragged to the VIP room of Scores. In L.A., you go here if your Midwestern friends are visiting and want to have “a night.” (We can say that, we’re from the Midwest.)
And Drai’s is the perfect spot for a night of good, old-fashioned dancing debauchery.
That is if you don’t mind a little trash, flash and pungent cologne.
The buzz: Who isn’t talking about Drai’s? The $15 million, 22,000 square foot club—developed by Las Vegas afterhours king Victor Drai—played host to the E! Oscar party on March 7, hosted a media preview a few nights later, then a friends and family VIP night before finally throwing an official grand opening only two days ago. Which means either you’ve been here or you’re asking your friends if they’ve yet stopped by. And who hasn’t seen the billboards strewn throughout town?
The scene: Vegas, baby. This place is big, loud, shiny and raucous without the blackjack tables or 5 a.m. closing time. You don’t come to Drai’s for a quiet drink with your girlfriends, you come here to get wasted and to party. And because the space is sprawling and contains multiple bars, it isn’t a hard feat to achieve. People seemed to be having the time of their lives while dancing to the likes of Miley Cyrus and various techno beats. We got a sense that a lot of club goers were tourists, given away by the fact that they had accents and, well, told us. But we did overhear multiple hipsters at last night’s Shipley and Halmos/Confederacy party mention that they were stopping by. Could it be that the cool kids have a new Thursday night hang?
The visuals: There’s no dispute that this place single handedly has the best view we’ve ever seen in L.A., which is almost worth a visit alone. Outside by the pool, you’ll see everything from the Griffith Observatory to downtown with some major glittering lights in between. Plush cabanas dot the perimeter and contain oversized Moroccan lanterns that could have easily come from Z Gallerie. Inside, you’ll find thick, mirrored columns; metallic silver booths and huge red lamps with chrome stripper pole bases. Apparently Mr. Drai didn’t get the memo that these days, overt glitz is way gauche.
The dress code: You have to have a strong gut to stomach some of these outfits. While waiting for the rest of our group at the door, we spotted a herd of ladies in silver sequin mini skirts that, judging by the jiggly bits that didn’t quite make it under cover, were probably meant to be tube tops. Inside, dresses were made of non-breathable fabrics and makeup was frosty. Footwear was Forever 21. And in a sea of pleather everything we spotted Snooki-style bumpits on more than one visitor.
And the men matched. A fellow sporting a T-shirt that read “New Jersey: Only the Strong Survive” refused our roommate a cigarette. Another guy gazed toward downtown, deep in thought, wearing a brown leather jacket with a miniature license plate patch on the back. Other dudes stood around wearing pointy, faux-snake skin boots and thick metal rings on their fingers. The Friday night we went, vests were also a club trend. But not the too-cool-for-school ones worn down the street at Teddy’s. These suckers looked like they came from the formalwear department of Sears.
The hot seat: A glass-walled VIP balcony sits above the poolside cabanas for your ultimate viewing pleasure. Not a headliner on The Hills? Buy a cabana instead. Broke? Hang outside anyway, where you’ll be able to stand and breathe without getting trampled by dudes who think they’re in A Night at the Roxbury.
The sightings: We were too busy gawking at the ill-advised fashion to notice any recognizable names. But it seems that Audrina Patridge, Buzz Aldrin and Super Size Me director Morgan Spurlock stopped by for the E! Oscar party.
The door: The night we arrived, the line snaked through theme park-style barricades to the Metro station outside. We’re not gonna front—we knew people at the door and bypassed the melee. Had we been solo, we would have taken one look at the door and retreated to the random Irish pub across the street. Well, that or our couch.
The parking: Don’t even bother searching for street parking. Hotel valet is only $7 and on the plus side, you’ll be able to leave your car without fear of ticket or tow if you kick back a few too many cocktails.
The eavesdrop: “I want to light that girl's outfit on fire."
Drai's Hollywood. 6250 Hollywood Blvd., Los Angeles. 323-962-1111. draishollywood.com