How do you spend Valentine’s Day when you’re in your 20s (mid-20s technically…for another 11 days)? You go to the biggest, loudest club in town to see a world-renowned DJ (obviously).
A far cry from last year's candle-lit corner table in an Italian restaurant, I instead ventured downtown to Stingaree to spend the evening grinding to eardrum-busting beats by Paul Oakenfold. Although working in the club has gotten old, the perks do come in handy—velvet ropes mean nothing when the doorman comes over to your house to watch football every Sunday.
At one point during the set, I must have caught Oakenfold's eye because he winked at me. I gave him a slight nod, then walked back to my boyfriend at the bar (as the men and women crushed next to the DJ booth swooned).
It always amazes me how people will drool over anyone with the slightest bit of fame. Oakenfold truly knows how to get a crowd riled up, but unfortunately his talents to not extend to the fashion department. This uber DJ looks like a troll who’s in dire need of a haircut (and a lengthy shower at that). I doubt any stylist received a heart-shaped box of chocolate from this man today.
For Bionda, the beat goes on...nnz nzz nzz.
