This. Is. London.

The year was 2000. 

I was 24 years old.

I had a huge job in a pharmaceutical company and was quickly heading up the corporate ladder. 

 During the week I busted my ass at work, which meant I made the rich corporate big wigs even richer (insert eye roll here).  It was very stressful but I worked damn hard every day to prove myself. 

But on the weekends, well….. the weekends were a different story. 

The weekends were my escape. 

 

After university, my best friends and I quickly became infatuated with the Toronto nightclub scene. 

It was the perfect escape for us.  The music, the people, the clothes, the dancing…..it was all so grand, so loud and so fun.   Completely the opposite of our corporate lives. We just craved it all the time.  We couldn’t get enough!

You can imagine that going back to work on Monday was just awful.

Not only was my body still filled with Red Bull and Vodka, but I swear that I could still feel the pumping of the music’s base in my chest as I sat down at my desk at 8:30am with my morning coffee. Or…. perhaps those were the heart palpitations from the Red Bull??  Anyway, whatever!

I worked during the week with only one goal in mind, and that was to get back onto a dance floor as fast as possible.  Like the song, I was literally working for the weekend.

My best friends and I partied like this for years, but it only took a few months before we REALLY got a taste of this good life.

I remember one night in particular, when it had been confirmed that we had finally “arrived” on this gregarious club scene. 

It was a hot summer night and Mandy, Nichole and I had just jumped out of the cab.  Our mission:  to get into The Eleventh Hour without spending an ETERNITY waiting outside in the horrendous lineup (Ahhhh first world problems folks!).

Of course, we were dressed to the nines.  Sparkly tops, leather skirts, stilettos, big hair and big ego’s.  We were READY!

 

As soon as we were out of the cab and double checking our lip-gloss in a compact mirror, a bouncer yelled, “Girls!  C’mon!”. 

Gasp!?  That was fast!

We looked over at the huge burly bouncer, who was standing at the front door, holding a red velvet rope in one hand and motioning for us to come in with the other.  He didn’t smile (they’re probably taught in Bouncer College to NEVER smile – it makes them look weak)……….but WE smiled!!   Truth be told, inside we were DYING with excitement, but on the outside, we made sure to look SUPER cool (that’s what we learned in Clubbing College).

Anyways…… ladies and gentlemen, life as we knew it was finally complete!  We had just been asked to walk right into one of the coolest hot spots in town.  No line-up, no wait.  WE had MADE IT!! There were absolutely no other goals that we would EVER need to accomplish in our lives ever again.  If we died that night, I’m pretty sure we would’ve been ok with it. 

 

The rest of that night was a blur.  I only vaguely remember dancing, flashing lights, super loud house music…….and…..oh yes, a tiger! 

You heard that correctly.  I did in fact say a tiger.

Some big wig had actually brought a massive tiger into the nightclub.  I only realized it when I felt something furry graze my fingertips as he (or she?) walked by me.  

NOW I’m super angry that someone would even THINK to bring a wild animal into a loud and packed nightclub……I mean, how cruel??!  But at the time, I was young and stupid, and I thought “Hells to the ya I’m partying with a f’ing TIGER!!!”

 

The months of partying went on and on and the weekends just got wilder.

Before long, we had found our new staple location:  This Is London.  A nightclub that in my mind was  only a slightly milder version of Studio 54.  I’m sure Studio 54 veterans would disagree with me but having never been to Studio 54 myself or partied with the likes of Andy Warhol and Liza Manelli, This is London, in my eyes, was just a mere step down from the epic club. 

Anyway, This Is London was insane.  Like Studio 54, you had to be chosen to get in, and hopefuls stood at the door, sometimes in the freezing cold for HOURS, praying that today was their lucky day.  Lucky for us, our status was now that of clubbing royalty (as I liked to think), and we were often escorted into the building by the bouncers and led directly to the VIP lounge.  It wasn’t out of the ordinary for us to be doing shots at the bar with the owner, or rubbing shoulders with the likes of Paris Hilton, Jennifer Lopez or Avril Lavigne. 

This club was just fabulous.     

Every night there was a hot new DJ spinning, there was some sort of cool performance….ya know…belly dancers, rope twirlers (is that what you call them??), and those people that spin down sideways from the ceiling using only yoga sheets….or something like that!?  And every hour on the hour, a deafening alarm would sound and a deep man’s voice would announce over the speakers “THIS ….IS….LONDON…”  which for some reason I thought was the COOLEST thing??  Like, just in case you forgot where you were!? 

The bathrooms as well were ridiculous, a mere step down from a 5-star spa.  There you could get your hair re-done by the in-house hair stylist and makeup professional, use any of the lotions or perfumes that were at your disposal, or relax on the huge cushy velour loungers whilst drinking cucumber infused water.  (Yes, I just said “whilst”….because those were the kinds of words that you suddenly started using when you were at This Is London.)

 

Anyway, that club became our second home.  And we lived there religiously every weekend….never tiring of the loud house music, the 3am nights or the packed dance floor.  In fact, when it got TOO packed, we just moved up onto the massive speakers. There was ALWAYS a solution to our first world problems.

 

But as it does, time passes us by and the years went on.  And as our lives changed,  so did the club scene.

This Is London eventually closed its doors down in 2015, but by then, I was long out of my routine of weekend clubbing.  But I remember that club and those days like it was yesterday.  In fact, if I sit quietly enough, I can still hear the music and feel the thumping of the base in my chest as we entered the large double doors of that club every weekend.

 

As I recently reminisced with my sister about those days of the past, I couldn’t help but blurt out, “Damn those days were fun!  If only This Is London was still around……..  they don’t make clubs like that anymore?” 

My sister said, “Not in Toronto.  Butttt........ we could always go to Miami??”  she smiled her devious smile as she looked at me sideways.

“HA!”  I laughed. 

There was no way I could go to Miami just to party!?   I’m a single mom after all!  I have 2 kids now….….responsibilities…..bills…..work…… a HOUSE.....stupid TAX season…..”

 

But without even thinking I said,

“Ok. Let's go!”

My sister looked at me in complete shock and said, “Really!!??”

“Yeah!  I think we should do it .........

........ but so HELP ME GOD if someone even THINKS of making me wait in a line-up!”

 ;)

Me, Mandy and Nichole

@ This is London

Sometime in the early 2000's

On a speaker ;)