Review of Vu: Make sundaes or meet stalkers?

By Matthew Barrett and Chris Kula

For the Daily

Some people come to the Vu for the furious lap dances and some come for the bottomless cup of icy cold Coke - we came for the story, a think piece on a mid-level strip club coming to terms with its own identity in the face of its enthused male customers.

Last weekend, various members of the Daily Arts Posse ventured to the fabled Ypsilanti hotstpot, Dejá Vu Showgirls, for a night of hard-hitting investigative journalism. It took some arm-twisting on the part of our editors for us to sign off on a Saturday night assignment, but in the end, our thirst for the truth proved too great to resist.

After receiving our complimentary beverages in jazzy, glow-in-the-dark limited edition collector's cups, the powers that be quickly ushered us into the Executive Lounge (perhaps after our recognizing our well-known headshots?) so that we could be wooed by the club's top-shelf talent.

Sitting 11-strong - six female, five male - on the lounge's posh vinyl couches, we settled in for an eye-opening evening of all-nude entertainment. Except for two of the staffers, who had already been, it was a brand new experience for all.

In addition to club favorites like the bombastic Cameron, who changed into two different outfits throught the evening - scary spice and pebbles from the Flinstones. Not to mention the pouty, brooding faced Destiny, who looked like she'd rather be at a real estate convention than showing her goods to the crowd.

The strippers performed death defying acts on the pole. They did jumps and flips never seen before. Well maybe it's been displayed once or twice before on "Circus of The Stars," by early '90s teeny bopper sensations.

The Vu offered a cast of memorable characters worthy of a David Lynch vehicle.

One of our faves was a suspected regular, identified only by his Indiana Hoosiers t-shirt and thick specs ("The better to see you with, my pretty!") We could only imagine that this young deviant was drowning his Bob Knight-related sorrows in a bevy of $20 full-frontal lap dances. Creepy...

While our Hoosier preferred to be away from the action, another patron chose to sit front and center, fist fully packed with dirty singles. He seemed to have no preference as to which stripper he delivered the bills to via his mouth, just as long as she stooped to his level.

The women in the crowd were no less starvin' for lovin' than the men. One woman put a dollar bill in her mouth and the stripper slinked down and sucked the money up. Crazy...

The soundtrack to our evening ran the gamut from Eminem crowd-pleasing gems to Van Halen cock-rockers.

Just as art imitates life, strip clubs imitate art, and '80s music videos are no exception. One of the fine ladies of the Vu paid homage to David Lee Roth and company, sashaying her way through Van Halen's semilan rocker, "Hot for Teacher." A gentleman's wager regarding the approximate time that the ubiquitous football stadium anthem "Who Let the Dogs Out?" would first sound off was settled far too early in the night when a few of the Vu's finest were "let out" while Baha Men woofed in the background - even the most misogynist male bastards squirmed in their seats at this point.

But even the femininist-minded men in the club were disappointed with uninspired performances by some of the Vu's second string strippers.

These girls were clearly going through the motions, particularly the young woman who doused herself in Hershey's chocolate syrup before lethargically hosing herself off as part of the special "shower dance" bit. It took an eagle-eyed colleague to point out, "You've still got some sauce on your ass!"

Speaking of celebrities, sports superstars Anthony Thomas of the University of Michigan offensive backfield and Brendan Shanahan, Red Wings forward and bit performer in the summer flop "Me, Myself and Irene," were in attendance - at least in spirit, courtesy of patrons sporting their respective jerseys (you can settle down now, Lloyd).

No other celebrities were sighted.

In conclusion, a night at Deja Vu is well-worth the $6 couples night admission fee, thanks in part to the accomodating staff, the off-colorful clientele and the gravity-defying pole climbing antics.

-Daily Arts writers Chris Cousino, Ben Goldstein, Gabe Fajuri and Elizabeth Pensler contributed to this report.