As far as travel bucket list experiences go, one of my top choices is famous for raising some eyebrows and eliciting an “oh, really?” from an intrigued listener. And I get it—an Atlanta strip club isn’t your typical trek to Machu Picchu or Great Barrier Reef dive.
But there I was, sitting on a bar stool that’s seen better days, watching women and men getting their faces smacked by the well-endowed chest of a zaftig stripper who, I’ll have you know, is currently getting her Master’s at Emory.
She’s working at The Clermont Lounge, not because she has to, but because she feels safe blowing off a little steam here. And for me, that’s part of the allure of the place. An 80-year-old sexpot shares the stage with a 20-something plus-size dream, and both are raking in the admiration (and tips) while having a time.
The Clermont Lounge is an Atlanta institution. It’s the city’s oldest continuously running strip club, operating since 1965 out of the basement of what is now known as the Hotel Clermont. It's made a few guest appearances on the Travel Channel and a Real Housewives franchise, so maybe it’s landed on your radar somewhere along the way.
There are many reasons to go to Atlanta: the Georgia Aquarium, the Beltline, Martin Luther King, Jr. National Historical Park, the insanely good food and drink scene. But for me, the Clermont Lounge was/is the ultimate destination. I was determined to watch its most famous dancer, Anita Rae “Blondie” Strange, crush a can with the sheer power of her breasts, and maybe take home that unsuspecting can as a souvenir.
A set of dark steps leads to the entrance of the lounge. There was a short line the night of my visit, enveloped in a cloud of smoke from a few stragglers finishing their cigs before heading in. I stopped at a table loaded with merch and picked a racy graphic tee in the spirit of “been there, done that, bought the T-shirt” and headed in.
And to be clear, this is definitely a basement. It’s windowless and dim—the platonic ideal of a grungy neighborhood dive bar—with duct tape heroically holding together the rips tearing through the vinyl bumper hugging the bar. Finding a seat isn’t a problem early in the night, but as the clock inches closer to 10pm, the crowd gets thick, and a rickety stool is prime real estate for the small stage in the middle of the very compact circular bar.
For the most self-conscious of us, the Clermont is a revelation.
There are a couple of rules the Clermont Lounge doesn’t play around with: it’s strictly cash only, cameras and photography are not tolerated (this isn’t an idle threat, either: I watched two people get booted for attempting to snap a pic), and behavior should be kept in check (more on that in a sec).
Some people aren’t comfortable with the idea of a strip club. For the most self-conscious of us (hi, I’m the problem, it’s me), the Clermont is a revelation. The club features performers of all sizes, colors, abilities, and ages who own that stage and don’t give a care about any judgment that might be passed. But here’s the beauty of Clermont: the patrons—a come-as-you-are mix of friends, couples, and singles who appreciate a killer soundtrack and a good time—aren’t judging.
Every woman gets heaping amounts of praise, plenty of applause, and not a single “boo” or snide remark in the house. You soon come to understand that this is their house, and disrespect will not be tolerated. That leaves a lot of room to be as fun, silly, and free as you want to be on that stage. And if that means following up an innocent skip around the stage with a gravity-defying headstand to the Backstreet Boys’ “I Want It That Way,” or strapping a bucket to your backside so customers can launch crumpled up dollar bills like a basketball freethrow phenom while you strut around the stage and catch your breath, everyone’s down for that.
Losing track of time inside the Clermont Lounge is easy. It’s not impossible to stumble out at 3am believing with your entire soul that it’s still before midnight (bless your heart). Here’s where I’ll advise that you plan ahead and book a room at Hotel Clermont.
The hotel is managed by a different company from the lounge, but their history is deeply intertwined. Once known as the Clermont Motor Hotel, the property rented out rooms by the hour and was best described as “sticky.” Fast forward to 2018, when Oliver Hospitality acquired the hotel and restored the property to the glory it's probably never known. Staying true to its history, the hotel feels like the tasteful bungalow of a '70s adult film director—rattan chairs, velvet cushions, subtly racy illustrations of women hanging from the walls in each room. You can feel the energy of the lounge and the history of the space coursing through its dimly lit walls, increasing your personal sexiness factor by at least 25 percent.
Rooms are on the smaller side, but the beds are soft and plush. Showers are spacious, with custom toiletries illustrated with cheeky Hotel Clermont designs from La Bottega. A fun add-on in each room: a zippy little black scarf with Clermont illustrations that you can take home and wear around town for a very IYKYK moment.
There are several bars on the property: a dark and sexy lobby bar tucked away in a small nook behind the hotel entrance that begs for a cold martini and a plate of crispy fries; the rooftop, which was renovated in April 2025 and delivers direct views of the Atlanta skyline along with snackable tacos from the permanent food truck; and the bar at the hotel’s in-house restaurant, Tiny Lou’s, the Michelin-recommended French Caribbean brasserie famously named for one of the dancers who performed in the Clermont’s “Gypsy Room” in the 1950s. As the story goes, Tiny Lou refused Hitler a lap dance and fled Germany soon thereafter, eventually making Atlanta her home.
Dinner and brunch feel equally cozy at Lou’s, with its homey floral wallpaper and private little nooks. And as the marketing notes, it really does feel like the kind of food you might cook (or, in my case, be fed) by a lover: housemade chips you can dip in a pool of french onion creme piled with osetra caviar, gnocchi parisiene soaking in a savory mushroom beurre monté, and a 13-ounce NY strip steak with a pat of foie gras butter. A meal here is sensual, sumptuous, and lush—a perfect precursor (or morning-after meal) for a visit to the Clermont Lounge.
There are plenty of people who say that the Clermont is “where strippers go to die.” But I side with one particular Redditor who opined on the topic: it’s where strippers go to live. The same will go for you, too.