Dress Code

Years ago queuing outside a club in Manchester. I’m pissed, I’m happy, I look down at my feet and realise that in my drunken state I’ve completely forgotten I’m wearing trainers. Nice black ones though, so I might just get in if I hide behind some of my mates.

As we get closer to the entrance I notice the bouncers looking intently at the footwear of the club goers. From my place in the queue I see some people being turned away for terrible breaches of dress code scripture. I imagine if you go into a club wearing the wrong sort of gear it could cause the place to burn down, or flood, or both.

Shit, been queuing for ages. Don't want to get turned away. Too late to get in anywhere else now.

We shuffle closer. I see the fella in front of me has bright fucking white trainers on. Nice one. He’ll be my diversion. While the bouncers are sorting him out I’ll nip in and get my funk on, bust some moves, drink some beers, sweat all over some poor unfortunate girl and then go home and have a wank.

Eventually we get to the bouncers, the fella in front with the trainers is allowed in. I put my head down and follow and a great muscular arm like a tree trunk blocks my path. It was like I was caught in a tractor beam.

“You ain’t coming in here with trainers on,” says the bouncer.

When I start to drunkenly protest and point out the fella in front with the bright white canoes on his feet who was now happily waiting at the pay kiosk, the bouncer shrugs:

“He was wearin’ Nike, mate,” he points down at my trainers. “Those ones you've got on are fucking shit. Now piss off.”

And that's exactly what I did. Never argue with a man who can snap you like a twig.
( SpankyHanky, Sun 22 Feb 2009, 0:37, 6 replies)

Im a bit of a fan of trainers
and I have to say that out of all the trainers i have owned the least satisfactory ones were Nike.
Adidas remain my favourite.
(spent.fish flipping and gasping, Sun 22 Feb 2009, 11:43, closed)

I wouldn't want to go to a club
that wouldn't want me as a patron
(MrChimp previously Monsieur, Sun 22 Feb 2009, 13:57, closed)

Bouncers
love their little bit of power
(Errin C, Sun 22 Feb 2009, 14:03, closed)

I experienced something similiar trying to gain entrance to IKON in bas vegas
it was a good few years ago now and it was a rare night that actually allowed trainers in the dress code. so I put on my favourite pair of dark brown Nike air force one 'premium' trainers which are made from some fancy kind of fancy soft italian leather instead of the normal shite. asides from the light brown rubber on the side of the sole you'd never know they were even trainers. but despite that they still look pretty smart (for trainers) anyways.

I queue up quite happily chatting to my mates, until I get to the door and the Thug du Jour puts his hand on my chest and says... "oi mate, lift up them jeans" (I was wearing particularly loose fitting jeans and as such you could only see the toe portion of my trainers stick out from under them). I oblige as refusal often offends and get told... "sorry mate, can't come in you've got trainers on". "erm we're allowed to wear trainers tonight" i reply and it's then at this point he either remembered he was being an idiot but didnt want to admit his mistake or he just really didn't want me sullying his club full of my trendy clothed over-aftershaved basildionian peers with my presence but I was genuinely taken aback at his response "yer well you ain't got the right type of trainers on, they're nike... we only let people in wearing stuff like k-swiss or sumfing".

I was truly feeling down-hearted as I was ejected from the queue and watched the rest of my pals enter the wondrous temple of dancing, alcopops and essex girls. so dejected I just walked 30 yards to the doors of the other club on the strip called 'Diva', whereupon I strolled straight in through the doors where the nice doorman welcomed me with a cheery, 'have a nice evening fella'. I pay my money and walk in, grab a drink from the deserted bar then pop straight through the doors that join the two clubs inside to find my mates have only just got past the queue to pay to get in, whereas I have a drink in one hand and a stamp on my other to allow me to come and go into the other quieter club as i please. something you can't do if you come in through IKON.

still it's all in the past now... I live in london and here there's infinite more choice and any club that doesn't let you wear what you feel comfortable in is a clear indicator that you shouldn't go in because it's either a) shite b) full of prententious tossers or c) both of the above
( HatBeard, Sun 22 Feb 2009, 16:07, closed)

Any place that judges its customers
by their shoes won't be getting any of my money...

FFS, my local club back home used to consist almost entirely of legions of burberry-hatted skanks wearing nasty Rockport "shoes" as part of the obligatory chav uniform.

Shoe policies don't work, club owners please take note.
( chart cat has an itch, Tue 24 Feb 2009, 9:53, closed)

Shoe policies do work, and work very well.
A shoe policy tells me instantly that a particular club is rubbish and not worthy of receiving any of my hard-earned money. Saves me the bother of having to find out the expensive way.
( flake has nothing against your right leg, Tue 24 Feb 2009, 23:21, closed)