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Also this issue: Look, Ma, No Wires icepack |
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April 11-17, 2002
naked city | first look
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When Live Bait, the wild Old City bar known around town as the "most likely place to find yourself getting a blowjob in booth seating while eating scungilli" closed its doors, clubfucks wondered: What can top that? At the very least, they were curious about the scungilli.
Cozco Management -- Dominic and Andy Cosenza, owners/operators of Bassett's Turkey, the Bistro at Cherry Hill and other food-court faves -- took the Bait and made it their own with Glam, a VIP luxe-lounge, upscale bottle bar with a twist. A big, pink twist. I Dream Of Jeannie pink. Barbie townhouse pink. Guzzling-Pepto-Bismol-by-the-gallon-like-it-was-scotch pink.
But before you reach the now-chatted-about brightly pink palace of floor two's VIP area, walk through the door, past the neon-blue sign and stay on the first floor. Floor one is the dark room, a low-lit salon draped in heavy-black and deep-purple fabrics with matching couches, love seats and ottomans -- from Natuzzi leather squares to plush semi-circles. The room seems nearly gas-lit, with palm-pressed aluminum sconce-type-thingies popping ever so slightly with eerily iridescent light that bounces off metal and cut-glass tables. Though this continues back to the dining/booth area (which is only slightly brighter) the low light there comes primarily from an elongated bar that glows on each barstooled patron's surface area like a large pulsating mood ring.
Floor two -- it ain't subtle. The low-ceilinged pink pimp haven mirrors the furnishing of floor one with its Natuzzi leathers and glass tables, only here in whites and grays, and dotted with squiggling clear-plastic seating. Rather than a long wall-length bar, there's a leather couch with several tiny tables in front of it, low to eye level. After that, it's a freaky free-for-all spinning under the disco ball as handsome gals and guys cater to your VIPersonalized whims (you can even have your own swipe-able membership card that states whatchoowant), nearly bowing before you when you hit the stage at the end of the room. This raised space has three levels that seem to crawl from Glam's shag carpeting. Out of the bright-white glare of the disco ball's mirror spots and the blare of '70s and '80s disco -- provided by AdRock, Tronco, Carl Michaels or Reno -- there's always someone bringing you hors d'oeuvres or fizzy cocktails. By night's end, you'll feel like Tony Montana did in Scarface (before he went ballistic) when he first got to Miami: empowered, overjoyed and dizzy from the high.
52 S. Second St., 267-671-0840, www.glamphilly.com.
