Music » Brittney After Dark

It's the end of Charlotte

For TILT, just the beginning


Charlotte Cason is dead. After running the Cooper River Bridge Run in Charleston this past weekend she was attacked by a pack of killer salmon, and in turn, her predecessor, Brittney was beamed back to this planet from her alternate universe with a nose piercing in tow. Memorial services for Charlotte were held at Shaun Ryan's monstrosity of a beach bash. Actually, Charlotte was merely a pseudonym -- an alter ego I assumed for my career as columnist slash professional partier while multi-tasking as a Carolina Panther's TopCat cheerleader living under more rules than an all girls penal colony. Being an NFL cheerleader was merely something I had to check off on my life list. NEXT! The gig is up and I'm bringing Brittney back; reclaiming my identity, as well as my name.

And I figured a grand opening celebration was the perfect place to celebrate my homecoming -- so I took my happy ass to TILT.

TILT, just like Liquid Lounge was, is essentially a long hallway that kind of felt like walking through a retro art gallery with a bar running alongside of it. But at the end of that hallway there's now a cool, covered patio with what seemed like more square footage than the interior, decorated with retro light illuminations. Seeing as it was a party with an open bar and buffet, it's hard to tell if that was their normal crowd or freeloading crowd; TILT is still in the process of recruiting their regulars and establishing a less seedy reputation than its predecessor. It was good tunes and good times nonetheless. The DJ played those mood-inducing happy tunes you'd hear at Cans. Perhaps you should add TILT to your nightlife list.

And meanwhile, at The Sunset Club ...

Grey Goose was celebrating the launch of La Poire vodka made with Anjou Pear Essence (that's pear-flavored vodka in laymen terms); with a fancy name like that, and a Sunset Club setting, obviously the party was fancy. There was a small crowd with big titles: bar owners and managers, nightlife royalty if you will. It was a night of sin with S.I.N (the service industry) and by sin I'm referring to the chocolate fountain with pears for dipping chased with "peartinis" ­-- let's just say vodka and pears make a great pair. Even with two DJs, the dance floor was empty. This tiny dancer was too busy hovering over Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, and I could actually indulge without having to worry about maintaining less than 10 percent body fat in order to make my weigh in. Cheers!

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