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Lissy's dancefloor journal | Second entry

Partying as a profession is a hard life... but somebody's got to do it!

Top raver, booth lurker and our very own AM to PM girl, Lissy Lübeck shares her thoughts and inner musings from Ibiza's clubland.

Ahead of her return to the island for summer 2023, we're re-serialising her infamous dancefloor diary, continuing today. Catch up on the first entry here.

This is my confession and sermon.

Wednesday 7 September

Woke up to a message from a friend asking me to jump on a plane to Mallorca tomorrow for Danny Howard's final party at BPM Magaluf. Tempting. At the start of summer I did promise I would make the short trip across to our sister island in the Balearics.

I suppose I could. Then again, I'd probably get FOMO leaving Ibiza even for 24 hours! There's just nowhere like this crazy island - sorry.

We wangled getting our weekly Wednesday morning meeting moved so that the clubbing team could go out last night…. and we all ended up staying in. Haha! Classic. Now I'm making plans to go to Paradise tonight, which means I will be very hungover for the rescheduled meeting.

Puppy dog eyes and fluttering lashes on stand-by when I explain this one to the boss.

Paradise | Amnesia | by PHRANK

Thursday 8 September

Missed my meeting again! Thank goodness the Bradford Factor is not a thing in Ibiza. I'd be toast.

My beloved Chris and Stevie, The Martinez Brothers were the special guest at Paradise last night and I've never seen it so busy in there. It was a madness! Ofc i stayed 'til close. Wouldn't want to make missing the meeting all in vain now, would I?

In my defence, I did request a wake-up call. But what's that saying? Let sleeping princesses lie, or something?

In non-club related news The Queen passed away after a staggering 70 years on the throne. Totes emosh.

Understandably, it dominated my TikTok feed. Let's just say some tributes felt more heartfelt than others! I'm not sure I've ever cringed so much. Second-hand embarrassment is real.

Still though, RIP Your Majesty. Long live The King! Saying King Charles III will take some getting used to.

Friday 9 September

An entire night in has left me thirsty for a night out. Defected, I'm coming for you.

Earlier in the day, we tried something different, testing our sea legs on Only Ibiza Boat Party. You can read about our experiences in more detail here.

The evening began at Café Mambo with the Defected crew, and saw Simon Dunmore play back-to-back with his sons Louie and Lucas. Their tune selection was impeccable. My new friend Rio Tashan, who won Defected's DJ competition, also hopped on the decks for the family affair. His first time in Ibiza and he managed to get a set at Mambo! The stuff dreams are made of.

Eden's Green Room has had a lovely little revamp - dark green and gold decor, boujee Mayfair club vibes. Melé smashed it, Heidi didn't make it due to travel aggro but Sosa played a blinder, as well as Catz N Dogz. All the bangers.

Defected | Eden | Ibiza by Mario Pinta

I bumped into Wayne Lineker in the VIP toilet at Eden and we spoke about The Queen. Not entirely convinced he recognised me. Then again, he does meet a lot of girls, so yano…

Although we left at 05.30, I was on the ceiling until at least 07:30. Hate being in bed and not being able to sleep. Feels like such a wasted opportunity. Might as well have stayed at Eden until the end. Given my sleeping prowess, I feel I've let myself down.

Even the best of us have off days.

Sunday 11 September

Wow. Back in the game. Slept a lot. Like, even by my own high standards, this was an impressive stint. It might even be a record. The black out shutters in my bedroom are lethal, but great.

Glitterbox is on the cards for this evening. Lots of things happening today on the island that are taking my fancy. The Martinez Brothers are playing at Blue Marlin, for one. It goes without saying, I would love to go. There is also a not-so-secret villa party, as well as Melon Bomb at Tanit.

It's all going on.

Ibiza has a habit of throwing distractions your way. But I'm keeping laser focus. When you deviate from plans, it can go either way. For better, or for worse. I'm looking forward to Glitterbox, so Glitterbox is what's happening.

Monday 12 September

Yesterday, I ended up at a party in the most unlikely of venues, at a place called C*** B******** (redacted). Run by a well-connected guy with his finger on the pulse, it was the type of party you often hear about, but rarely get invited to yourself... unless you're me, that is.

Jamie Roy, Max Chapman and Parris all played. Despite appearing like an odd choice, it turned out to be a really cool location. The decks were positioned on the outdoor patio and the bar was stocked with cheap drinks.

More important than that, the neighbours were either paid-off or up for a party themselves. These things are priceless if you want to avoid being shut down by the po-po.

Afterward, I hit Mambo for a few drinks with Team Defected. Sometimes I feel like an honorary member of their team - they're all super lovely and look after me.

Hï Ibiza looks unrecognisable when there's nobody else on the dancefloor, pre-doors open

Glitterbox was busy from doors open. Melvo Baptiste, Jeremy Underground, Honey Dijon, DJ Pippi, Danny Tenaglia and Heidi Lawden all delivered knock-out sets. I stupidly stayed until close, fully aware I had to be boarding a boat at 15:00 the next day. Kill me now.

At least I'm consistent.

I debated cancelling but this party animal has a reputation to maintain. One no-show and I'll never live it down. Though my social battery was low, I got up, got showered and got on with it. Keep calm and carry on. We move.

On the boat I sank a few cups of cava and ate way too many crisps, but at least I managed to spend some time in the water. By the end of the boat trip, I was beginning to feel a bit more human. The sea has healing properties.

We visited a cave and had our own private floating rave, as well as various swim stops and a spot of paddle boarding. It wouldn't have been a boat trip with the obligatory belly flop from the birthday boy or someone inevitably getting stung by a jellyfish. Bingo! We got the full house.

Unfortunately due to it being overcast, the sunset wasn't very impressive, but by that point everyone was steaming and loving life. We disembarked around 21:00 and headed home for a quick freshen up. As has become our Monday night ritual, Amnesia was beckoning.

Tuesday 13 September

Tbh with you, even though last night was tame, I am written off today.

Through no fault of the DJs or the crowd, last night was a lacklustre affair. Despite the music and atmosphere being on point, I was over-tired and not the life and soul of the party I usually aspire to be.

Like a pair of amateurs, Steve and I left around 04:00, our reputation hanging in the balance. Who even are we?

Right now, I'm curled in bed feeling sorry for myself. My brain function is on power-saving mode. I could sleep for eternity, which is an inconvenience as numerous options are on the table for tonight.

Where the magic happens: sleeping, TikTok-ing, writing. BTW, meet Howard the hedgehog

I've been invited down to Cova Santa for Do Not Sleep, which I am gutted to be missing. It's also Ida Engberg's UNA closing party at Club Chinois tonight, which my friend Nicole is attending and has kindly sorted guestlist for.

I hate to see freebies go to waste, especially since Nicole will be rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous and flirting with extremely eligible bachelors in VIP. But my bed and a little bit of TV catch-up is more appealing at this moment in time. I need to prioritise sleep for the foreseeable.


Anybody expecting non-stop, salacious clubbing tales this deep in September will be disappointed. The summer has taken its toll on my energy levels as well as my bank balance - and pay day seems like a long way off.

Apart from that, I have one eye firmly on closing parties, which means I have to pick-and-choose my nights out with the most objective and clear-headed of thinking. Don't let emotion cloud your judgement.

Go out tonight, sure, but risk potentially missing the party of summer tomorrow? These are the very real, theoretical scenarios to weigh-up. At this time of year, you need to make every second on the dancefloor count.

Perhaps I should rename this column the sleep chronicles? Not quite as juicy or dramatic, admittedly. Next week, I'll be back on form. This is only a momentary glitch.

You can't keep a good raver down.

Head here to read the next instalment.

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