| Mwah!
By: Amiel Martin Cabanliganga The
opulence of Las Vegas style Showtime was a hit a couple of decades ago, with its
oversized chandeliers, candelabras, ostrich feathers and rhinestones. While minimalists
have succeeded in killing this lavish era by branding flamboyance as kitschy,
there remain loyal Las Vegas-life lovers who debunk the assertion. “Entertainment
will forever be one and the same with glitz and glamour and I will fight for this
cause,” says Kuya Germs (German Moreno) as he lectured this prowler on the
golden days of the entertainment industry. After a few dinner drinks with him,
he handed out tickets to a novel place of his choice called Club Mwah. To
be frank, the pitiable streets of Boni Avenue in Mandaluyong made me a bit hesitant
to even drive to the nightspot, which is located at level 3 of the Venue Tower.
Going anyway in the end, I saw that Club Mwah’s disparity with the grubby
Boni Avenue is rather obvious. Its
exterior flaunts a pair of larger-than-life statues of Grecian women raising a
lamp with satellite globe stands. One look at its swanky interiors, and anyone
will agree that Club Mwah is a cross between two former party-hub milestones in
the US—New York City’s Studio 54, (the ultra-voguish and snooty nightclub
reserved for the rich and famous), and the lavish Caesar’s Palace in Las
Vegas. The club boasts of
a psychedelic dance-disco floor complete with state-of-the-art technology in audiovisual
effects. While the disco lights of the seventies blink at random, this one moves
to the beat of the music. Dance dais are tactically strewn throughout the huge
venue where the bar’s resident dancers and guests can strut their stuff with
matching bubble, smoke and fog effects. Hanging from the ceiling are big chandeliers
and rows upon rows of mirror balls in different sizes. Boosting the superb visual
overload are rope lights, laser lights and high-powered pars. Mwah’s
Saturday show Bedazzled is a one-hour gay revue of female impersonators, mimicking
international divas performing a comedy routine told in song and dance. They wear
elaborate costumes and sequined and feathered headdresses, which all together
mimic the genuine Las Vegas look. An innovative hydraulic lift at center stage
further give the performers double visual impact and a certain drama with their
entrances and exits. The
bar itself stays true to the theme of fabulous partying. The
reception area welcomes guests with fluffy couches and well-polished glass mirror
panels line the walls. I
love everything in Club Mwah! And
with that decided, I went about and prowled the latest happenings in the metro
. . . . Last week, the metro
was abuzz about rapper Ja Rule’s first concert in the RP. One insider from
his local staff shared with me a little anecdote that proves you can’t go
wrong with tried and true thing. While
in Manila, Ja Rule’s meals were catered by a very reputable resto/bar, but
apparently, the superstar passed on the delectable cuisine they served and gave
it to his crew instead. There was nothing wrong with the gourmet fare as it was
indeed mouth-watering, but Ja Rule preferred his “finger lickin’ good”
fave of fried chicken and mashed potatoes, so he ordered out instead! Known
as the “IN” party place nowadays, the Fort’s Embassy has gone back
to basics in monitoring its crowd control. It turns out that Embassy’s resident
staff has instituted an old gimmick to maintain the club’s exclusivity. Guests
are only allowed if they know the secret password for the night. While nothing
new, (I did this in Shangri-la Makati’s ZU, days and it’s become almost
cliché in Mafia-esque times, where wayfarers would need a codeword to step
foot in surreptitious taverns or underground gentlemen’s clubs), Embassy
has taken the next step in ensuring a select clientele while ousting undesirables.
Reacting to my April 22 column
entitled, Resurrecting Manila’s Party Scene, it seems that two Canadian DJs
have assumed that the unnamed DJ I wrote about is one of them. I was bombarded
by fiery text messages and e-mails throughout the weekend because of the piece;
it definitely raised a commotion. In
rebuttal to those curious readers who took the time to reply to me (subsequently
nearly ruining my vacation), I have but one thing to say: “The guilty are
always the first to squeal!” And
the beat goes on! •
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