It was a typical Thursday night. I was in Atlanta over winter break. It was cold for Georgia winter weather standards. We were at a bar drinking cheap beer out of really tall cans and playing Asshole (the Southern way, where apparently you can't lay down doubles or triples which totally defeats the purpose of the whole game). Then a friend asked me, "Do you want to go to the dirty South? And I mean the dirty South." Well, that sounded pretty enticing to me, so I agreed.
He led us across the street to a wonderful little place called the Clermont Lounge. It looked sketchy. I got a little scared. We went around to the back of the building and down some stairs until we saw a back door with a big bouncer man sitting on a stool with the door open … Thursday night was free cover (which I would be thankful for later on).
We walked in and immediately saw a Cher look-a-like … naked … on the circular bar … dancing … really badly. We had just stepped into the dirtiest strip club in Atlanta — a strip club where the stripper-rejects dance, according to my friend. A strip club where a jukebox played the music and the strippers often had to jump off the bar and insert quarters into the machine to start up their next song and finish their routine. The wallpaper is peeling and the tables and chairs are the crappy kind of furniture you would find at … well, The Clermont, I guess.
The Clermont Lounge is even featured in Wikipedia as Atlanta's first and longest operating strip club. It opened in the 1960s in the basement of the Clermont Motor Hotel on Ponce De Leon Avenue. It's no wonder it has been around so long. The Clermont has even been featured on Comedy Central's "Insomniac" and Wikipedia cites celebrities like Kid Rock and Marilyn Manson as fans of the unusual dive bar/strip club (yikes).
According to my friend, this place is famous for a woman named Blondie, a black woman with a long blonde Barbie wig who crushes beer cans … with her breasts. Once again I was intrigued. It turns out Blondie is even mentioned on Wikipedia for her ability to "flatten empty beer cans between her 36 FFF breasts." Who knew you could find out Blondie's bra size on Wikipedia? I'm impressed, but I wonder if she knows that.
Blondie was nowhere in sight, but a friendly waitress came over to our table wearing cowboy boots, a cowboy hat and a tie-dye-ish blue tube top as a dress. She took our drink orders … then forgot to bring us most of the drinks. It must have been really confusing with all of 12 people in the club. But it didn't matter. I couldn't stop staring at Cher dancing on the bar with some gross men watching her. I mean this was bad … really bad. It's no wonder some call The Clermont an "anti-beauty strip club."
As I was wondering what the hell I was doing there, we had a woman who must have been in her sixties approach us — in a French maid outfit. She really wanted to give some of my guy friends lap dances. I mean really. She flirted her way into the middle of our group and tried to peer pressure them with her sexy sixty-year-old body (I just shuddered as my boyfriend threatened to buy a lap dance for me). They definitely were friendly here.
Then suddenly, a woman with a long blonde wig entered the dark and moldy bar: Blondie had arrived! Two guys and a girl were at a table near us and flagged Blondie over. She pretty much attacked the girl in the group and starting stripping off her clothes. Then they handed her a beer can — and she did it. She put the can in her cleavage, grabbed a boob in each hand and SMASH! It was crushed. Citysearch calls Blondie's talent an "anatomical trash-compactor act." Wow. I didn't know what to do with myself.
I really had to use the bathroom, which I soon learned doubled as the stripper changing room. A see-through curtain was the only privacy between the toilet and Blondie's vanity. Blondie walked into the room behind me. Apparently she was done recycling cans and needed a touch up. Blondie started complaining about not making enough tips. "You know what I mean, honey?" she asked me. I guess I knew what she meant. I waitress. I expect a 20 percent tip. Do you tip strippers 20 percent? Twenty percent of what? Their bra size? Blondie wears a 36 FFF … should I tip her seven dollars? Or is it 20 percent of their dancing ability? Cher would owe me money … but maybe I could tip Blondie extra for her beer-crushing abilities.
I snuck out of the bathroom and went back to our table. A girl was on the bar and was actually good. She had rhythm and could move her body at least: this must just be a stop for her on the stripper highway to fame. I couldn't get over the fact that I was just staring at a butt naked woman though. I mean, you definitely see a lot of vagina when you're at a strip club. There is her vagina. Yep. Ok. She caught me watching her and gave me the "give me money" signal. It was time to leave.
Although not everyone will be able to make it down to the Clermont Lounge, there are plenty of strip clubs in the Midwest. My roommate celebrated a friend's birthday at Visions over on the east side. When I asked her how it went she had a similar comment to mine: "I saw lots of vagina." Apparently Visions might be Madison's own Clermont: tattoos, huge platform high heels, glow-in-the-dark piercings. The birthday party was a success though and they even paid to get the birthday girl on stage. The strippers couldn't stop thanking them for tipping so well and for bringing in a great crowd.
Whether you frequent the strip clubs often, are a bit uneasy about leaving your car in the Visions parking lot (in case anyone drives by) or you show up on Amateur night to strut your stuff, I wish you luck. And I hope you don't mind seeing lots of vagina.
Aubre Andrus is senior majoring in journalism and communication arts. She will be at Visions on Sunday for Amateur night — April fools! Haha. She can be reached at [email protected].
