Beauty, Blondie and inside the beast

Blondie (Credit: Nick Margiasso)

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Two simple words — Clermont Lounge.

Say that you haven’t been there in a while and you will immediately be called out. Say that you haven’t been there ever and a fired-up posse will be almost immediately secured to correct the situation. Say that you’ve never heard of it and you’ll just piss somebody off.

Yes, Clermont Lounge is the weirdest kind of legendary Atlanta spots. It’s akin in fame (but certainly not class, and that’s the way we like it) with Piedmont Park, CNN, Stone Mountain and the like. Many things have been said about this gem of pure indulgence but never that it tries to be anything but what it is — the portrait of real Atlanta underbelly. Metromix peeks in.

The Spot: Situated smack on Ponce de Leon Ave. around the back from one of the seediest multi-leveled lodgings anywhere, Clermont Lounge will cost you somewhere between nothing, a couple bucks or just a cool enough demeanor to get you past the no bull bouncer. Once you are in though, it is the stuff of legends. Legends, of course, can be tough to describe as you might imagine. The dull lighting is as cheap as the drinks and some of the fine ladies within the strip club were born closer to the first World War than the first Gulf War, but with age comes — ahem — beauty. The rules are simple: be nice, never touch the jukebox, always tip and never take pictures - a rule I broke at my own peril, just ask D.J. the bouncer.

The Awards: The accolades never stop rolling in for the bastion of bar-divery, including top night spots from Maxim and Stuff magazines, and best dive bar from several websites. It was also featured on the Comedy Central show, "Insomniac with Dave Attell." Those nods pretty much sum it up. You can get into as much or as little trouble as you could imagine here. Regardless, any visit won’t be one you’ll soon forget.

The Blonde: A legendary vehicle is only as famous as its leading lady and, boy, does Clermont have that locked down. Her name is simply (and ironically, of course, because that’s what they do here) Blondie. She has partied with celebs from Sally Jesse Raphael to Kid Rock and for a mere $10, will crush your PBR between her bosoms. Oh, what a wonderful life it is, my friends. Don’t take her for granted because she’s ending her tenure at the hallowed ground soon. Seeing her somewhere else is like watching Brett Favre crush beer cans between his jugs for the New York Jets, or something like that.

The Word: It started out as an upscale supper club in 1955 and took only ten years to succomb to the eccentric evils that weave through every stitch of Atlanta’s cultural atmosphere. Just think about how good it’s gotten during the last 40 plus years. Think about it on the ride over people.