1301 Winchester Road
Lexington, KY 40505
Fayette County
Phone: (859) 233-2374
Fax: unknownWebsite: no website on fileEmail: no email on fileHours: unknown
by Chad Gederman on Welcome to THE BOX, home of wee hour burlesque shows and drinks starting from $14 (shots from the well)....it's not just about glitz and glamour and T, A, & C (Tits, Ass, AND Cock). It's about getting in, period. A jet setter who now mainly dwells in New Zealand, a great friend of mine was visiting Manhattan for three nights only. After having seen a "fake burlesque" show the previous evening with "sad out-of-work Midtown failed actors" singing "awesome tunes" such as "the Duck Tales theme," she was hell bent on going to a "REAL, actual burlesque show." This is how she sounded talking (on a landline - picture that) to the management there before we went out: "Yeah, hi. Uh huh. Yeah. So how much for a table.....five-eighty....five dollars and eighty cents?! Oh. Oh, five-EIGHTY. Okay." She hung up, and I was already saying no way, Jose. She, however, wouldn't be deterred. "Whatever. It's a TUESday night; it'll be totally dead. They'll be begging us to go in. Let's just go and see if we can get in. I don't care; I just want to go and get rejected. It'll be funny." I pointed out that I was wearing flip flops because I'd thought we were just going to go out for a casual dinner and beers in a dive. "Oh, MAN! I can't believe that! What's wrong with you!!!" she hollered, but I could tell she was in a great mood, and all the more thrilled for the challenge of getting me into some high profile club with slippahs on. We had an average dinner somewhere and then met up with a couple other friends, one of whose boyfriend was dressed even more of a scrub than I was with his unambitious facial hair, worn khakis, faded logo tee, and dirty Sambas. I thought this would help my friend give up her hopes so we could just relax, but nooo... Around midnight, we tramped up to a black unmarked door between Rivington and Stanton. A few scenesters were lined up outside. The sexiest high-heeled female among us walked up quietly to the skinnier of the two bouncers. Our ringleader friend shoved me along because I was "the worst case scenario" for them to judge. Sexy girl whispered, "How is it tonight?" The goateed guard muttered, "How many?" "Just us and them," she rasped. The guy looked sideways. The ringleader, her friend, and the shabby boyfriend were hilariously illuminated in the streetlight. I chuckled, knowing we were done for. Amazingly though, the man said, "All right; I can take care of you." Two minutes later, my flip-floppy, mosquito-bitten legs swaggered right into a neon-lit den/theatre that I can only describe as a Victorian pleasure palace ravaged by cocaine and modernity. The lavish decorations were kind of delightful, but I couldn't believe people paid hundreds just to see it. Drinks started being bought for triple digits per round anyway, and we staked out a corner as the room filled with malicious gay men. Girls dressed like depraved 19th century sex workers paraded by once in a while with sparklers to announce the delivery of a bottle of Ketel One or comparable libation to special tables. These gifts were received with expressions of scornful boredom by high-stepping homosexuals, who made up about 98% of the clientele. A turbo-fueled remix of "When Doves Cry" pounded out of the speakers. One couple - inspired - began madly making out. The bathrooms were set up in that nouveau hipster vogue of unisex stalls with a huge washing station outside. One toilet kept closing because a decadent cushion above it. A boa'd worker sat on the counter, handing out paper towels for chump change. After a man passed out paper bags of hot, FREE popcorn off a sterling silver platter, the show began. And I have to admit, it was some of the craziest stuff I had ever seen. An aerial dancer hung from just her heels from a huge steel hoop. A magician did a headstand on a basketball that was perched atop three tiers of plywood held up by empty glass bottles. One person was dressed as a vagina (seriously; you couldn't even tell it was a human), and shook to a screaming orgasm by contorting against a gigantic glitter tongue. A transvestite did a melancholy/humorous striptease that prominently displayed breasts, and penis. Removing a huge plug slowly from the ass (to be clear: ass as in ANUS), "zhe" licked it while gazing coquettishly at the roaring audience. In all this, one very positive thing was that it didn't feel like a freak show. No matter how freaky things became, the performers looked happy and respected. Yes, it was some crazy shit, but it was over so fast before yet another intermission was called. When we found that the next installment would start around 3 a.m., we said bye bye to The Box and its plush velvet insides. Bottom line: PERFECT for anyone who wants to beg and roll over for admission to a club that bases its prestige upon arbitrary exclusion...then teases you all night with Hadean entertainment administered in twenty minute intervals.
by Tamara S. on I was at Gold Room for a rateclubs event a few months back, and the space is nice, but I finally came here again on a regular night out and was not really a fan. We were apparently there for a birthday party (I didn't know the birthday girl/boy/?) so we wee able to bypass the little line and there was no cover, so that was nice. We ordered four shots that were, for some reason, free. Maybe the bartendress thought I was lookin foxy. (That's obvs a joke). When I paid for a drink, later, though it ran I think nine dollars or so, which to me is a little pricey. The whole vibe here is still just kind of weird with the quasi-burlesque chicks suspended from the air and the lack of cohesive dance space. Music is also kind of whack. The bartenders are nice. Except--I misplaced my phone for half a second, someone must have found it and taken it to the bar, and they called my Mom, at about one in the morning. AWESOME. This isn't necessarily a fault of Gold Room, but I just really don't understand the concept of going out in Lindbergh. It's sort of a no-man's land and it's nice to be able to walk to other bars/clubs if you feel like a location change. Sure, Tongue and Groove is nearby but the impression I'm under is that both Gold Room and Tongue and Groove are the same level of unimpressive. Go elsewhere.
by Emery Minot on I went here after the restaurant closed and it becomes a night club, so I can't really comment on the food. The majority of the people there were mid/late-20s and up, and I do mean up. There were more than a few older people there, which isn't a bad thing, it's just not really my scene. The venue was really nice inside, the rooms were all decorated very sexy/modern, and I loved it all. The bartenders weren't cute and not very attentive, you really had to work to get their attention. The place was packed, but it was like a high school dance... the girls for the most part were all clustered together in a group and the guys were in their groups, everyone eyeing everyone else and making judgements, with a few couples and a few guys that thought they were the coolest thing ever... Again, not really my scene... What happened to just dancing and having fun? I don't think I'll be going back for the club scene, but based on the glowing reviews for the restaurant, I'll have to check it out during business hours.
