As the cocktail hour approachesÃ¢Â?Â¦ my friends and I begin to send our nonchalant text messages debating where we should party tonight. We message back and forth a few times and then I decide to take control. I send a mass text, “Chapter 8?” After a few minutes, my posse replies an obviously uncertain, “Ok” and we now have set plans to go to the newest club in the Conejo Valley. You may ask yourself, “Why be uncertain if it is the newest club in the area?” That’s just it. A new club always means long lines with trendy people awaiting the moment they can enter and prove just how cool they really are. I kid. Sort of. You see, there is actually a diverse mixture of club-goers at Chapter 8. It just happens to include some soccer moms and sugar grandpas.
The main reason Chapter 8 is so popular is because of its location. Why drive all the way into Los Angeles when we have a classy, sophisticated, and fun nightclub locally? The Conejo Valley does not have too much to offer when it comes to flashy, chic places to party. Sure, a few places have come and gone but nothing has ever met the high standards of the people of Calabasas, Westlake Village and Agoura. In fact, I recently heard a Miss Paris Hilton graced Chapter 8 with her presence. Thus, Chapter 8 is the new place to be.
My friends and I decided to arrive before 10 p.m. Everyone who clubs knows that if you show up after 10 p.m., you either wait outside in line for an hour or you have to flash an ugly guy in line to cut. Although, I am well-aware some people think it’s uncool to show up anywhere before 11 p.m. and deal with the torture. But why pay a cover of $10 just to get drunk and leave soon after?
We arrived at the club at 9:30 p.m. and were ready to rock. The line only had about ten people and the process moved smoothly. Once we got in, we had to walk through the dining patrons. That was awkward. The guests having their dinners were not too thrilled about drunks lurking around their tables with impatient glances, and the drunks were not too keen on the diners taking up space this late at night on the soon-to-be dance floor. In fact, we were shocked. We thought we’d have a place to dance after 9 p.m. I suppose not!
There was not much seating space but the place looked hot. The chic dÃ?Â©cor was definitely pleasing to the eyes. Even if the eyes were blurry, the environment was still much appreciated. Around 10:30 the restaurant was officially closed, the dining tables were cleared and the dance floor was in effect. The DJ was chill and the place was packed. Hip hop music was bumping and people were getting hot. Drinks were made pretty well, but the price was steep. The bartenders did a decent job of serving people promptly in between hitting on the beautiful people. The red and gold atmosphere was a feast for my feeble eyes.
Everyone was having a good timeÃ¢Â?Â¦ that is, until our feet started to hurt. We went to go sit down in the outside patio but the soccer moms had taken up most of the seating. Considering they were there trying to pray on the college boys, sitting outside did not seem like the smartest play. It’s not like the boys were coming after you, ladies. We waited around and even talked about leaving to go somewhere else. Being unable to sit was a drag. However, after some thought we all decided to stay. Considering just down the street at the other local hangout, Padri’s, there is a whole collection of old men waiting to pray on me and my girlfriends, overall Chapter 8 did a decent job of keeping us in their establishment. I mean, sugar grandpas are tempting. I always love the way their gold chains mesh right in between their chest hair. Bald spots make me swoon! Perhaps if the 40-something soccer moms would only join the 60-somethings at Padri’s, us 20-something ladies could really enjoy ourselves here.
All in all, it was a hot night. It really depends on what you’re going for when you go out that night, but if you want some local, ritzy fun, Chapter 8 will surely satisfy your needs. Bottom line, this dig gets an 8/10 on the M. Lo scale. Sizzling but not scorching.