After detonating Shore Club, I roll up to Mint in Miami Beach, slap five with the doorman (you know who I am talking about), who says with an accent, “Nice suit, Michael”, and I respond “thanks, merci“ as I enter the arena.
Mint is popping like corn as usual; tons of fly girls, and the energy is sick.
I roll around, give a “two kisses” greeting to a Chilanga I sort of know and settle in for a Goose and Soda. Sixteen bucks. Not bad.
I am feeling great, and I am Custom Suited Down, so I start ripping the spot off the cord.
Number Crunch a fly Ecuadorian girl, and Number Crunch and kiss a fly Cubana. It’s on.
I take a little break, spark up a smoke, and then I see her: the flyest girl I have seen in Miami Beach. Or at least the flyest girl I have seen in a few hours.
She is tall, thin, and dancing like pop rocks mixed with Classic Coke. I catch my breath and make a move.
It is loud as f*ck, but I get her attention and whisper in her ear. She smiles. Pauses. Then unfortunately, continues dancing.
I pull out some big guns as I whisper in her ear again. She smiles. Kisses me on the cheek. Then unfortunately, continues dancing by herself.
I pull out and grab another cocktail to regroup; I look back over, this girl is fire like hillsides in Southern California during Santa Anas.
It then hits me; this girl is one of my favorite p0rnstars.
I have pretty much lost, but I kind of fancy myself as “Arturo Gatti of nightlife“, of sorts (as in, I often pull out spectacular knockouts from the brink of defeat), so I go back in.
I throw a hailmary left hook, and…miss.
She goes on dancing by herself. Unreal.
I think of pulling out the huge Bankroll I have in my pocket and “pitching” her, but I wisely decide against.
Oh well, even Arturo Gatti took losses.
Come to think of it, I think she only does lesbian p0rn these days.
Postscript:
After the p0rnstar debacle, I saw the flyest Mexicana girl smoking at the closest booth to the door with her friends. I have two Zippos in my pocket but I use The Greatest Opener of All Time.
A few months ago, I was rolling with my Corporate friend and he had to go to South Coast Plaza to pick up a suit and some shoes. I told him he should just go Custom with my tailor, but him being a Corporate guy, he is kind of a cheapskate. But that is neither here nor there, and I decided to roll with.
While he grabbed an Armani suit (which was actually not bad, nothing compared to the handmade craftsmenship of my my tailor though), I decided to dip into Gucci and picked up a pair of Gucci Slides (pictured above, although the ones I grabbed were dark brown), even though I prefer handmade shoes from London these days.
So far I have been happy with the purchase.
I have swooped a fly girl everytime I have worn them so far: I went 1-0 in Los Angeles, 2-0 in Palm Beach, FL, 2-0 in Buenos Aires and 2-0 in Miami Beach. Decent.
(Side Note: I am only counting nights where I swooped a fresh girl. I am not counting nights I wore them and swooped a girl I already swooped. I don’t want to “pad” the record, so to speak).
The price tag? 5 bills. But knowing what I know now, I would have easily paid double.
I would strongly recommend picking up a pair or three, although I think they are discontinued. I anticipate they should work great for summer in coastal Spain at the topless beaches and for The Del Mar Racetrack.
Keep in mind though, I am not sure if these Gucci Loafers were 100% of the reason I went undefeated. It is really kind of hard to track. Furthermore, I have been feeling great lately (minus a health scare), traveling, making mad CASH, sparring heavy, and I have been doing it all in Custom Suits. So you could say I am on a roll, and I don’t mean E-tabs either.
These days, I can pretty much tell any top flight actor, musician or athelete to f*ck off with lifestyle.
I am a pretty big advocate of the International Playboy lifestyle choice.
I am mildly surprised more people out there aren’t embracing it.
Young, Handsome, Fast and Pretty: South Beach, Miami Swagger
We have written before about how South Beach can be a tricky place. Even top tier players see more defeat than a foot doctor in South Beach, especially when compared to other US “nightlife hubs” like Las Vegas, where going Beyond Undefeated is commonplace.
In the expert opinion of your humble author, I have found that the key to South Beach is Swagger.
You really need to “taunt” South Beach, “clown” South Beach and “own” South Beach.
Kind of like this:
If you hang out in South Beach in winter, you might have even see me jump up on the planters on Lincoln Road, Custom Suited Down, grit in mouth and shout, “I am Young, I’m Handsome, I’m Fast, I’m Pretty and Can’t possibly be beat!” to no one in particular.
Now I am not saying you need to disrespect the people of South Beach, I am saying you need to simply be a Nightlife Maestro: Dress Razor Sharp, Carry Big Bankrolls, Display mad Language Game and don’t take any shorts.
Stick your chin out to South Beach, make it miss, and come back with flashy combinations.
Basically you want to harness Pernell Whitakers boxing steez into your Nightlife Steez:
Make sense?
Give it a shot.
And watch your Model swoop and fly Latina girl swoop numbers rise accordingly.
