By Glennis Lofland, contributor
From VA to GA is a bi-monthly column by M.F.A writing student, Glennis Lofland, a Virginia native still settling into her new home of Atlanta. Between deadlines, she explores the city’s sights for the typical, quirky and weird, wondering which Peachtree Street she’s on and why it’s called “Hotlanta.”
You would think I would at least check out the wonderful World of Coca-Cola or maybe even Piedmont Park before high-tailing it to the Clermont Lounge, but I didn’t. Atlanta rite of passage #1: Georgia Aquarium. Check. Atlanta rite of passage #2: Clermont Lounge. Check . . . so I may have dove into the deep end of weird Atlanta rather quickly.
Turns out, most SCAD students don’t know what the Clermont Lounge is. I wandered around the SCAD entrance, through the Hub, the bookstore, the library looking for someone, anyone, to give me a quote about the Clermont. I got strange, confused looks, which could have been because I was interrupting conversations and lunches or creeping around the shuttle drop-off. But I digress. Was I speaking in tongues? Was the Clermont too awkward to discuss? Or were they like me only a few weeks earlier, innocent SCAD students living their lives without an inkling of what is just a few blocks away? The thing is, I was told that if I was writing about Atlanta from the newbie point of view, I had to go to the Clermont. So let’s establish some background info for all us ATL newbies.
Located on Ponce de Leon Avenue in the seedy basement of the shuttered Clermont Hotel, the Clermont Lounge is technically a strip club. That’s what they say on their website, that’s what you will read on Yelp, and yes, there are scantily-clad – ahem – “ladies” dancing on the bar. (I say “ladies” because, well, the dancers are “mature.”) Celebrities frequent the place, and Mumford & Sons was famously kicked out of it in September. The bar has been featured on many TV shows from the Real Housewives of Atlanta to the Travel Channel. It’s even listed as one of the best bars of the South in “Garden and Gun” magazine. It’s an Atlanta institution, “alive since ‘65” as the lounge itself says. It’s got Blondie, a beloved dancer known for crushing beer cans with her boobs. It’s a landmark, a historic site, an Atlanta rite of passage.
But come on, y’all, a strip club? I had to find out what was so fantastic about this place, other than Blondie.
So it’s weird. The red-lit, smoky basement unfolds into dark, shabby corner upon corner. The drinks are cheap, though cash only. Ladies, be prepared to share the bathroom with the talent. Out of the loo, the dancers put their own quarters into the jukebox for their song before strutting their way up and down the top of the bar. They are mostly middle-aged, with middle-aged parts, of which you will see all. I will never listen to the Beach Boys the same after watching a middle-aged woman strip to “Surfin’ USA.” I was stunned by the next routine that ended with a matches-on-fire-affixed-to-her-boobs trick I’m still trying to figure out. This is definitely not PG-13, but after you get over the initial shock, it’s really not so bad.
In fact, you’ll be shocked more by how much fun you find yourself having in the most unlikely of places. I think it’s the attitude, or lack thereof. The bartenders are welcoming; the bouncers smile; the patrons are friendly and from all walks of life. I saw bikers, hipsters, college kids, moms, dads, couples, corporate businessmen, well-heeled women, black, white, Asian, Latino. That could result in a keep-to-your-own-clique atmosphere, but at the Clermont, no one cares. There’s something to be said about voluntarily going to a place where nothing can be expected other than it will be weird and it will be weird: all pretense dissolves. Everyone there is just having a good time, nothing pretentious at all. It’s just a fun bar in a basement, with a bit of entertainment.
So, my fellow ATL newbies over 21, you really haven’t seen Atlanta until you’ve gone to the Clermont Lounge. Bring your dollar bills; these ladies are earning them.