Nightlife says adopt bitches, please

The construction at Republik, former space of M1NT, is far from being done, but I went to check out the site with their director Andrew Lewis. I got their cute new name cards as well, each with a different animal in a vintage suit. Andrew is a Dobermann Pinscher; marketing exec Patricia (¿como estas mi amor?) is a rabbit; and their mixologist Matt Radalj seems to be a badass shaved lion (…or it um, might be a lioness). You can collect them all, as all Republik staff will have cards. Anyway, judging from what I was told, it’s going to be totally awesome and totally different from M1NT. No more sharks—the couple in charge of feeding the sharks came and took them away, and gone is the enclosed black box-like feel of the old club. Republik will be all glass and wood, and boasts fabulous outdoor seating by its massive front doors, a perfect addition to the neighborhood with the popular “look-at-me-bitches” benches at Classified right next door.

I went to the First Anniversary at The Mira last Friday, at their alfresco terrace Vibes, which does have a most excellent and gorgeous vibe, surrounded by green foliage and bathed in that sexy purple glow. They’ve finally gotten the alcohol license, so that means yes, you can lounge on their sofas and cabanas and get served delicious cocktails now. Why they had a problem with the license for so long is far beyond my ken, as the terrace is enclosed within their hotel grounds. Stupid government. There, I said it.
Editorial had already opened up a bottle of Pinot Noir in the office whilst manically trying to closing the magazine, and I had downed a carton of Gekkeikan sake whilst on the cab ride over. Classy. So by the time we got there, our Dark Deputy Editor and I were only thinking of attacking the hors d’oeuvres, and not the bar like everyone else. But alas, after we glided through the halls of the glam hotel and out into the sexy alfresco terrace, macarons were already being passed around. Which meant we couldn’t stuff our faces with suckling pig. Dammit. Lucas Luraka was on the decks, and Miles was on the saxophone. Obviously everyone else had been taking advantage of the free-flowing champagne situation—certain workers of this socialite magazine continued to believe in their inherently superior and superduper FABULOUS existence, and the DJ was drunk and kept touching my ass. Bisexual.

Then the fire dancer came on. She was very subdued, and demure. Rebecca Walker of Asia Spa noted: “Hmm… what is this? Jazz fire?” Then out of the blue, the fire-eater’s two torches became five torches on each hand—now that was rather impressive. You could feel the heat from the firebrands.

I decided not to be a hot mess, as I had to model for a photo shoot the next day, with two bitches, Lucy and Louise. Sorry I forgot the cute boy dog’s name. They’re the cute mutts of Neil, owner of Cul-De-Sac, who’s ultimately responsible for my evil poutine binges. The photo shoot was for this project “Hong Kong Originals,” affiliated with SPCA and WOOFHK.com. They’re photographing HK personalities with adorable mongrels, to encourage potential dog owners to adopt rather than shop. Rosemary, is also on one of their photos. On their website Mutt and More, they have a cute t-shirt that says “Pugs, Not Drugs” and apparently the photographer Ali sent one to Rosemary. I hope she has a healthy sense of humor.