It’s possible some of you may have noticed a growing VIP culture in Ibiza. Was it those feral stretch-hummers burping up and down Playa d’en Bossa that gave it away? Was it the rampant allocation of club and bar space to overpriced raw fish consumption (yes readers, VIP sushi bars are a thing), or did you simply find yourself edging around tables and chairs with glowing ice buckets and wondering where the dance floor got to? For better or worse, the VIP experience is flourishing on our decreasingly chilled out island, so it’s worth nosing about and seeing if that side of the velvet rope is for you.
At first the whole VIP concept is confusing to the regular clubber; it seems that VIPs will pay a lot of money to have less fun than you and yet, piteously, they don’t even know they’re missing the real action. Sure, sometimes on busy nights in peak season when you’ve got a mouthful of someone’s hair and your nose is squashed sideways against someone’s ear and your 14 euro drink is pouring down someone’s shoe and your elbow is in someone’s belly button and your favourite song comes on but someone’s stiletto has pinned down your shoe so you can’t step touch and your thumb is caught in an armpit so you can’t fist pump and your eyes are staring at a sweaty neck so you can’t see the DJ and you think that maybe you can’t actually breathe… sometimes then you might mistakenly look wistfully at the ‘extra space’ of VIP. But generally on a busy night like that, between the extra tables they’ve squashed in to make the big bucks, the chairs, the hostesses, the copious bottles of booze (nightmare) and the ten Russian models that came in with Mr Suit, their twenty implants and two hundred hair extensions… there really isn’t much more room to move than on the regular dance floor.
How to get into VIP without paying for it.
You will need lady parts for this.
I was at Privilege once spotted a young blonde thing recklessly thrashing her person against an Ibiza club railing near its VIP section. How she gyrated; how her hair spun! Her torso was partially siphoned into a blue corset with a few bits that couldn’t quite fit sticking out the top. Her heels sparkled like delicate dew on grass at dawn, or cheap glitter. It transpired her thrashing wasn’t quite so reckless as calculated, as presently I turned to my right to see Young Blonde close by in VIP, having swapped the cold unyielding rail for a hot-blooded ultra-yielding VIP male upon which to undulate. She later revealed to me her tragic story, that she had been a club dancer in Russia, but lost her job and couldn’t get another because she was too old (clearly over the hill at 23). She had come to Ibiza to try her luck on the scene and had evidently already proved her worth to some.
The lesson here is that proximity is key, find a way to stand out and always, always have a sob story.
How to be a good VIP.
I saw a prime example of the best kind of VIP at Ushuaïa once, when a man from the sparkling section leapt onto those floating blocks that usually house reclining models in high cut swimming trunks and set sail for the centre of the pool whilst wiggling out some absolutely not of the moment dance moves. This guy clearly had not lost touch with how to have a good time and was making good use of the VIP advantage – which is that it is a lot harder to get kicked out.
The idea is to flaunt your VIP privileges as much as possible to see how much you can get away with. How many people can you sneak into the section? How many places can you go with your VIP band? Can you get to the DJ booth and slap the DJ on the behind? Can you throw ice cubes at the bouncers? Can you pour your expensive champagne all over yourself whilst swinging your belt around in the air and gargling? You’ve paid a lot of money to be there so it will take a lot of outrageous behaviour to lose that privilege. Explore this concept.
The exclusive interview.
I interviewed a regular VIP section frequenter to get an insiders’ perspective - for privacy reasons he asked to be referred to as ‘The Sultan’.
RR: Sultan, when did you first make the switch to VIP, and why?
The Sultan: Always in some way I hef been a VIP.
RR: Yes, but have you been going VIP since you first started clubbing?
The Sultan: Yees, even at 18 years I am making the most money.
RR: OK. Why do you prefer VIP?
The Sultan: Disco dancing is for the gays. Here in VIP I hef seat and view and it’s nice for to get the women.
RR: So it’s a good way of getting to know new people?
The Sultan: The club is very loud so I get to know them after, do you know? At this point The Sultan exploded into a lecherous chortle which developed into a phlegmatic cough.
Conclusions.
As always, there are two sides to every steak and the VIP scene has a reasonably compelling defence. A generation of clubbers has grown up, but instead of growing out of clubbing they just want to party in a different way. They have the money to support a more ‘cushiony’ clubbing experience whilst still enjoying the music with the rest of us, and the whole island benefits a great deal from that revenue. At the same time, the tenets of this VIP culture: money, dress code, exclusivity and flaunted luxury, are chipping away with diamond encrusted pick axes at the increasingly delicate spirit of Ibiza, which promotes freedom, eccentricity and ultimate inclusivity.
The uber rich and famous have long flocked to the indulgent isle of Ibiza to enjoy the private beaches, free party spirit and potential orgies (weren't the 70s great), but how often do you see those genuine VIPs spilling their drinks in the clubs? It’s not the famous film star or musician that has that centre VIP table that juts out into the dance floor for all to see, it’s just the guy with more money to spend. Individually the paying VIP is just looking for a good night like the rest of us, but as a collective, they’ve cultivated rigid social distinctions based on economic means on an island which once had one of the most communal and accepting cultures in the world. Boo to that.