Listen up bros: Just because someone (the dorky bloggers, for instance) are telling you that a certain trend is over, doesn't mean that it is. You see, ironically, the people whose job it is to write about popular culture are often some of the least adept at being part of any trend larger than themselves. I mean, Jesus, look at Chuck Klosterman. Great writer, but you'd never want to take him to the prom.
When blogs started decrying "The End of Bottle Service" back in September – just about the time when all the bankers lost their jobs – we took it with a grain of salt. Especially since bottle service — the costly habit of buying extremely marked-up spirits at a club for the experience of being treated like a VIP — has been announced "over" essentially since it began. In 2007, Michael Gogel of Lotus announced bottle service was on its way out "now that anyone with a credit card can order it."
But with a recession well under way and jobs falling by the wayside, can we truly call this an end to the practice of using your plastic to gain door entrance and a stream of hot ladies all night? And who are we to tell you what to do, anyway?!!
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The banking crisis may have put an end to the Wall Streeter-fueled craze of bottle service (thank god!), but there's not a financial disaster yet invented that can keep depressed i-bankers from paying women much less educated than themselves to see their breasts and vaginae. It's the American way! CONTINUED »
Have you heard? Rich bankers in New York, the poncy swindlers who keep us out of Manhattan after sundown (they've discovered the LES!), are becoming a tad less rich. Boo hoo. And with the money goes the ridiculous luxuries it buys. No more willowy blonds who don't mind not kissing during sex, no more bespoke wingtips and, according to various nightlife connoisseurs, no more fucking bottle service. Huzzah!
In deference to those kind, decent human beings who know nothing of the favorite pastime of New York's most detestable pricks, bottle service is a practice in which scantily clad club waitresses bring overpriced bottles of vodka to tables of wealthy, hooting clowns who like rap music but hate black people. Good times! But God knows they couldn't last; clubs around New York are kiboshing the service as our nation falls into financial ruin and i-bankers run around with less disposable income:
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