First, I had dinner. A meal fit for a king – a French King like Louis the XIV, not an English King like Henry the VIII who might be content with plain fish and chips (only joking, or as Bill Maher would say, “I kid the English”). After devouring the best halibut I’ve ever tasted, I followed up with the best fresh fruit cocktail and ice cream dessert imaginable. There must have been a dozen exotic fruits from all over the world chopped into tiny bits with a scoop of rich chocolate ice cream planted in the center. This put me in the mood to explore the lounge below. I didn’t need a crystal ball to tell me this club was done right – the four Swarovski crystal ball light fixtures over the bar told me that. Just a beautiful accent that perfectly complimented the exotic black crocodile wallpaper lining the room (Crocodile Dundee would not have been pleased).

The club was so elegant that I thought I had entered the VIP room. Little did I know, that the real VIP room, a Helmut-Newton-inspired S&M dungeon room, was still under construction. The space is so well done, with private alcoves set back for more intimate gatherings, that every table felt special. The surroundings were so plush that if you found the right partner, you might be tempted to make love to them right in the club. I was lucky to have met a beautiful woman who was also in the mood for amore (see pictures below). The passion that we felt emanated from the sexiness of the club, and I long to return for another hot encounter.

Covet is the most beautiful gift from the French since the Statue of Liberty – I just love it.

What makes the show outstanding is exactly what made the party outstanding. The best clowns, contortionists, magicians, acrobats, singers and dancers in the world from the show, all came to the party at Roseland Ballroom… plus another 100 fellow performing artists and entertainers. This made us feel as though the show we just came from never really ended – except this time, all the party guests were onstage with the performers.

The organizers were smart. Somehow they managed to turn the dance floor of Roseland Ballroom (the biggest dance floor in New York City) into the biggest STAGE in New York City.

As you entered the Ballroom, you found endless rows of chilled yellow drinks waiting for you atop incredibly long tables. This was genius: no waiting in line for a drink (my kind of bar).  Instant buzz… on! Sticking with the title of the show, Banana Shpeel, the drinks were made of banana vodka and pineapple juice – yummy! The best beverage I’ve ever had at a party for 2,000 people. They used a banana flavored liquor called “99 Bananas” in case any of you want to make this your summer drink like I am. Perfect for lounging by my castle pool… but enough of that – back to the party.

Shock and awe! A giant, gilded bird cage with a dozen sexy guests playing on pillows inside, a humongous floating prison that had two convicts serving mac and cheese through the bars, a huge bamboo cave with loin-clothed cavemen serving Asian noodles, and last but not least, a “sushi lake” where guests were given real fishing rods and challenged to hook a box of sushi treats to fill their stomachs. As if that wasn’t enough, guests were then able to make their own good old fashioned banana splits for dessert. This was not labor intensive because the bananas were already “schpeeled.”

Hats off to you, Guy! You’re the “top banana” in my book when it comes to entertaining. Only you are able to successfully bring the glitz and the glory of Vegas to New York City.

The DJ booth sits front and center in the middle of an elevated stage. The booth itself is a large, curved high-tech screen projecting videos, and the backdrop is a gigantic futuristic wall of images dotted with countless LED lights. Bright would be an understatement when the booth and backdrop are both flashing electric-colored animated films at the same time. Wearing sunglasses at night inside a club is sometimes considered cool, but in this case, it might just be a medical necessity to protect one’s eyes.

Both sides of this illuminated Times-Square-like stage were guarded by two big guys in black suits and pink ties. Barely dressed go-go girls (by far the best kind) are the only ones let on the DJ stage – who said being a DJ doesn’t have its perks? However, while Ron Luna is an amazing DJ and while the dancing girls were indeed gorgeous, the two bouncers sort of gave me that “you can look but don’t touch anything onstage” feeling you find in strip clubs. Not only is it unnerving, but in the case of PinkRoom, also unnecessary. From my perspective, it didn’t look like anyone in the crowd was going to bother the DJ or rape the dancing girls, or possibly bother the dancing girls and rape the DJ. (Sorry Ron, you’re cute… but two body guards?) I think it would have been less threatening and way cooler to put the bouncers in pink suits instead of black suits. After all, the club is called PinkRoom, not “Men in Black” room.However, nothing, not even the burly stage bouncers could hold back the extraordinary computerized digital lightshow that beamed through the night, flashing both around AND behind the DJ. Serious money was spent on this lightshow and serious money was spent on the sound system. It seemed as if every table that shelled out for bottles of booze got their own personal speaker… finally something extra for the big spending customer other than a small bowl of strawberries. There were speakers upon speakers. This guaranteed that you could only dance with the people around you and not speak to them (which is the ideal volume you want… you come to DANCE, not chat)! Big club sound in a small venue is intense. It makes for a musical experience that pounds through your ears, your brain and every bone in your body. On the right drug, I’ve heard it is amazing and on the wrong drug, I’m sure it is annoying. Personally, I like an extreme light show and sound design under all conditions, so I was a happy disco camper.

As far as the décor, some of the ultra-plush suede couches were pink, while others were black. I would have made them all pink – stick to the theme! Colored spotlights bounced off the energetic crowd all night – again, I would have preferred shades of pink light only. The bars themselves were probably the prettiest bars on the planet, with hundreds of pink roses embedded in large, brightly lit lucite bar tops. They were stunning and a pleasure to lean on! You could almost smell fresh flowers while sipping your champagne cocktail. Once again, if it were my club, I would only serve pink champagne and pink drinks of all kinds.

Look me in the eyes! Actually, look her in the eyes! A giant photograph of a woman’s super sexy, gorgeous eyes takes up the whole wall behind the bar – mesmerizing! However, on the other wall, her eyes are completely closed – not mesmerizing. This wall needs either another set of sexy female eyes or, to be fair to the opposite sex, a pair of sexy male eyes. Also turn the eyes pink please! The entire experience should be unreal. Otherworldly is my standard.

That brings me to the bathrooms, an area of a club that many owners do not pay enough attention to or forget entirely. Not in this case. PinkRoom has the pinkest bathrooms in town –any town! When I walked into the men’s room, I was so thrown off by all the pink that I thought I was in the wrong bathroom. I thought for a moment that I should squat and pee in one of the booths. Halfway through my stream, I started getting comfortable with my surroundings.

Altogether, PinkRoom is a great place and a wonderful addition to the South Beach club scene. As long as they stick to house music every night, they will be blessed with my presence. While the super good-looking crowd (both men and women) would look good in any outfits, I suggest management force its patrons to wear something pink if they wish to enter. I plan to revisit PinkRoom (when I return from New York next season) and hope that a giant PINK panther, a litter of PINK pussycats and a pair of hot PINK lips are lined up waiting for me! And you might as well throw in a few PINK flamingos while you’re at it! I dig the way they can stand on one leg.

First up: Thomas Kramer, “The Party King of Star Island.” (Sorry mom, but even in the game of chess, the king comes before the queen). Once again, Thomas Kramer has proved his party prowess. When it comes to partying, he is the star of all stars on Star Island – no small feat, considering Gloria Estefan and P. Diddy both have homes on this uber-exclusive celebrity island. While Thomas’ parties are consistently great (the mark of a true champion), I believe his last one, to celebrate the birthday of Michael Capponi, was his best ever.

To honor the birthday of superstar club promoter, Michael Capponi, Thomas Kramer went all out with an Alice in Wonderland themed costume party. In a nutshell, it worked like a charm! Maybe it was because a remake of the classic movie has just resurfaced in theatres across the nation, or maybe it was because people in Miami Beach were just in the mood to get dressed up. Whatever the reason, Alice in Wonderland wackiness ruled the night!Upon entering the Kramer compound, guests were met by a 12-foot fire-breathing dinosaur. (Didn’t matter that there was no dinosaur in the movie, it added to the surreal atmosphere anyway). Right away you could tell that this was not going to be an ordinary party. Multi-colored jets of water criss-crossed the courtyard, reminiscent of the Bellagio water show in Vegas. As you entered the hallway, you knew immediately that you were in the home of a wealthy and powerful man. Stuffed animals from a safari hung from the walls (I felt sorry for the giraffe). As you proceeded through the palatial estate (think the home in The Godfather or Scarface) you began to smell a feast fit for a king being prepared on the enormous outdoor grills. The air actually became delicious. And once you reached the pool patio, the acid trip minus the acid began. More than a 1000 brightly colored mad hatters, bunnies, queens, kings, cats, mice and other creatures from Wonderland were everywhere. To top it off, they were eating, drinking and dancing under the stars. The impact was enormous, made possible only by the fact that everyone at the party was dressed creatively. That’s what made the difference between this being just a great party versus a legendary party. The legend himself, Thomas Kramer, had the best costume of all (as all hosts should).

A “Party King” must lead by example… by action, not word. And so Thomas did, dressed like a real king out of the hit Showtime series “The Tudors.” The party could easily have been christened “Thomas in Wonderland”… he looked that good.

Besides Thomas holding Court, you will find that the entire “crème de la crème” of Miami Beach nightlife was also in attendance having the time of their lives. This was a tribute to Eric Millan, the “King of all Nightclubs” in Miami Beach, who provided the amazing music and exclusive guest list.

Hail King Thomas, your loyal subjects await your next bash. LONG LIVE THE KING!

Ok mom (I mean, your majesty, my apologies)… you’re up!

It’s one thing for my mother to own the greatest collection of erotic art in the world, but it’s quite another for her to use that collection as a backdrop for her Royal 75th Birthday Celebration. Throw Barton G, the number one event organizer in America into the mix and, well, orgasmic is the only way to describe the result! Every guest who arrived at my mom’s museum, The World Erotic Art Museum (The W.E.A.M.), on the corner of 12th Street and Washington (literally the Times Square of South Beach, adjacent to Club Mansion), was formally welcomed by the blaring of English Longhorn trumpets and escorted in by traditional Buckingham Palace guards (something you never hear or see in Art Deco South Beach)! You knew from the start that this was going to be a royal affair fit for a queen. Sure enough, as you exited the elevator, there she was, the “Queen of Erotica,” my mom dressed like the Queen of England, sitting on her throne wearing a magnificent jeweled crown and holding a gold scepter. Male guests bowed and female guests curtseyed to Queen Naomi, wishing her a Happy Birthday.

Inside, guests were already eating, drinking and being merry. How could you NOT be merry when you are surrounded by over 4,000 pieces of erotic art from all over the world? That’s a lot of penises, vaginas and orgies by anyone’s standards (including Jenna Jameson’s). Many people were overwhelmed by the amount of sexual art surrounding them at all times, no matter what wing of the museum they drifted into. Some guest stopped to see the replica of a chair owned by the kinky Catherine the Great, while others stopped at the Kama Sutra bed with four large wooden penis posts holding up the mattress. Everyone stopped to admire my mom’s eight-foot gold penis and balls to have photos taken, but the highlight of the party was the unveiling of her birthday gift from her partner, J.C. He commissioned a sculptor to create the greatest illusional art that anyone had ever seen. Everyone crowded around a sculpture of a devilish cupid with a huge erection, that when spun around on a disc, cast the perfect image of my mom’s face on the wall. The crowd literally gasped (me included)!

Besides the 4,000 erotic sculptures, paintings, drawings and photos, which blew people away, there was also LIVE erotic art for the Queen of Erotica’s 75th. Two of the most gorgeous girls (with incredible bodies) and two of the most handsome men (both hung like horses) were painted from head to toe to look like naked aliens. They were positioned in 12-foot frames, which they could step in and out of, like 3D erotic creatures come to life. I thought I’d seen it all, when suddenly my 75-year-old mom took her royal scepter, tapped it on the head of one of the naked male’s genitals and said “Rise I say! I command you, I’m your queen!” The crowd went hysterical with laughter – and to think I’m to blame for my mom collecting erotic art. She was more than content to just collect antiques like any good traditional Jewish mother, when I asked her to do me a favor and please find me a piece of erotic art for my New York bachelor pad. I figured that a sexy conversation piece on my coffee table would put the girls in the mood for the “real thing.” At the time, my mom actually had no idea what I was talking about, but she soon became obsessed with collecting and opened her museum. All I can say is I pity the fool who misses her 80th.

Hail Queen Naomi! Your loyal subjects await your next bash. LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!

I shamelessly worship “The God of Partying” (don’t tell my Rabbi!) and he worships me. I live to party and party to live. If there was a University of Partying, I would be the class “valedictorian.” If “The Guinness Book of World Records” measured partying ability, I would top all of their lists. If the Olympic Committee made partying a sport, I would easily win the Gold Medal in every category. And finally, if the global intellectual community recognized partying as an honorable pursuit, I would win the Nobel Prize.

By now, those of you who have never heard of me are asking two questions: who the fuck is Sir Ivan and what makes him the party guru? Well, first of all, if you don’t know who I am already, maybe parties are not really that important to you – and that’s okay. Have a nice life and enjoy living in Boringsville. But, for those of you who are curious, please allow me to introduce myself.

I’m a man of wealth and taste (rock trivia – answer: Mick Jagger, “Sympathy for the Devil”). As legend has it, I was born Ivan Wilzig, in Newark, New Jersey in 1956. I was not called “Sir” Ivan then, although my father often referred to me as his “young prince.” At 54, my current age (not the most famous nightclub in history), I have had more fun than anyone on the planet. You name it: I’ve been there, done that, and still want more. Coincidentally, the first truly great parties that I’ve ever attended were actually at Studio 54.But that was only the beginning. For 36 years (since the age of 18) I have been going out and partying almost every night of my life. Sometimes I go to just one party a night (which is already extreme), sometimes up to six parties a night (this is what puts me in a league of my own). Of course, some nights I would stay in – to study for exams in college (at the University of Pennsylvania), study for finals in law school (at the Benjamin N. Cardozo School of Law), get a good night sleep before a big business meeting (for 20 years I worked for my family-run bank, The Trust Company of New Jersey), recover from illness or surgery, or just because I felt like staying home to read a book or watch a movie.

Do the math. Even after deducting all those nights off, I still have somewhere between 10,000 and 30,000 parties under my belt. I have pursued “The Great Party” like a shark fisherman pursues “The Great White.” And I will be the first to admit, that on more than one occasion, even I, Sir Ivan, have had to beg, borrow and steal to get into a specific party.

It’s not something to be ashamed of… it’s a learning process that toughens you up for the next party. The tens of thousands of parties I have attended included every type of party imaginable, all over the world: corporate parties, charity parties, fashion parties, dance parties, drug parties, and sex parties. They have taken place at straight clubs, gay clubs, lesbian clubs, bisexual clubs, transgendered clubs, fetish clubs, strip clubs and country clubs. And let’s not forget over-the-top Wedding and Bar Mitzvah parties. Dress codes have ranged from BLACK TIE ONLY to NUDE ONLY. I’ve been to an all-nude wedding, but not an all nude Bar Mitzvah. I don’t know why. An all-nude Bar Mitzvah would surely show whether or not the 13-year-old Jewish boy had actually become a man (pubic hair is after all the first sign, isn’t it?).So there you have it… round, round, round… I’ve been around. But going to more parties than anyone in the world is not the sole criteria for crowning someone a “Party King.” A true Party King must give as well as he can take. By that I mean he must be able to throw great parties as well as attend great parties – and that’s where I leave my competition in the dust. Whether you have or have not heard of me, I invite you to view my last party (or should I say, my last “creation”). For me, hosting a party is not just a way to entertain friends, but rather, the chance to take them somewhere they will never forget. Throwing a party is both a science and an art, and hosting one requires enormous skill and talent.

I believe that one must be able to throw a great party in order to truly appreciate and judge a great party. Anyone who has just “attended” parties, without ever having “thrown” at least one, will NEVER be quite as good a judge as someone who has actually put in the blood, sweat and tears that it takes to make a legendary party truly legendary. “Castlestock 2009” had only one equal in Hampton’s Party History: the 1997 “Jungle Masquerade Ball to Benefit the Rainforest Alliance,” also at my Castle in the Hamptons and co-hosted by my brother Alan. (Sorry no video for that one, but had you been there, you might have bumped into Billionaire Donald Trump or Home Run King Sammy Sosa). So you see, at least in the Hamptons my only competition is myself.

So now you have it! The secret’s out! I’m not only a legendary partygoer, but I’m also a legendary party-thrower!

Consider this blog your “Party Bible.” Follow me as I celebrate the joy of living through never-ending parties. Sometimes I will tell you BEFORE the party actually happens (trust me I have a nose for parties like a bloodhound has a nose for rabbits). Maybe I will tweet you DURING the party with a “blow by blow” report. (No, I’m not going to tell you who’s giving who a blowjob, nor am I going to tell you who is lined up to do blow in the bathroom). Other times I will just give a recap AFTER the party is over and I’m fully recovered (after all, it’s really not much of a party week if you don’t need a good nurse or at least a good massage afterwards). Remember, what you learn here you can’t learn at Harvard!

Someone once said that “whoever has the most toys before they die… wins,” but I beg to differ. I believe that whoever has gone to the most amazing parties before they die wins. The reason is because parties (all kinds) are the most fun social interactions we as humans can experience. The truly wise know that Fun with a capital “F” is more valuable than gold. Hedonism, the pursuit of pleasure, has been and always will be the goal that all healthy human beings desire the most. And parties are pleasurable for many reasons: they distract us from stress, permit us to fantasize, allow us to release energy, enable us to make friends, motivate us to explore business opportunities (networking) and perhaps most importantly, help us fall in lust and in love.