Devil's Point5305 SE Foster Rd Portland, OR 97266 Southeast Portland
(503) 774.4513 - Visit Website - Facebook
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BarFly's Review of Devil's Point
Despite the crimson walls, carpets, and spotlights, this teensy, triangular outpost of Dante's burgeoning sex-n-rock-n-hellfire empire breeds good will. Bartenders are friendly, it's hard to tell just who's paid to dance during eterna-packed concerts, and there's as many be-pierced lovelies paying to sing during lap dance Stripparaoke as neighborhood gents. For spotty teens the world over, after an evening of Suicide Girls and Fireballs downloads, Devil's Point fulfills their best/worst imaginings of Portland.
Devil's Point's Happy Hours
|Monday||4pm-7pm $2.50 well, 1/2 price food, 50 cents off all beers 4-7pm|
|Tuesday||4pm-7pm $2.50 well, 1/2 price food, 50 cents off all beers 4-7pm|
|Wednesday||4pm-7pm $2.50 well, 1/2 price food, 50 cents off all beers 4-7pm|
|Thursday||4pm-7pm $2.50 well, 1/2 price food, 50 cents off all beers 4-7pm|
|Friday||4pm-7pm $2.50 well, 1/2 price food, 50 cents off all beers 4-7pm|
|Saturday||4pm-7pm $2.50 well, 1/2 price food, 50 cents off all beers 4-7pm|
|Sunday||4pm-7pm $2.50 well, 1/2 price food, 50 cents off all beers 4-7pm|
Getting to Devil's Point
Reader ReviewsAdd your own review or comment
One of the things that provokes interest in getting a lap dance is the feeling that a dancer isn't just going through the motions; who wants to waste at least 20 dollars on a robot? That was the vibe I got from this place. The women on stage seemed to be indifferent to the customers, which was at the most, 3 in number. The music wasn't very enjoyable-turned up way too loud and almost entirely heavy metal. I ended up with a major headache and left after realizing that three dancers were if for that shift. Adding some variety to the music selections and making an effort to relate to the customers will go a long way to improving at least this one person's opinion of the place.
Stopped in on a Monday night to see the fire dancers. I was not expecting much as I looked at the outside of the building. This was however, true entertainment. I was not expecting to see this much talent on a Monday night. While the dancers stripped, they were definitely dancers who stripped, rather than strippers who shook their butts. Excellent pole work from all the women (2 dancers and 2 fire dancers). Cricket was awesome on the pole... Tana the Tattooed Lady was sexy and sang very nicely; a true cabaret artist.
I highly recommend the fire dancers. Fire and naked women is an awfully hard to beat combination.
The bar staff was friendly as well. Drinks were priced right.
Every Sunday at Devil's Point is Stripparaoke. Stripparoake is exactly what it sounds like: Karaoke had a freak love child with a strip club, and it's offspring shall transform the world as we know it.
Everyone at Stripparoake is great, the bartenders are friendly and pour great drinks, the DJ is hilarious and sassy while keeping it fun for everyone, and the crowd is always friendly. The dancers, though, are the cream of the crop. Gorgeous, mischievous, and seductive, it's very easy to get distracted while trying to sing by these lovely goddess' of punk rock beauty. Somehow, people seem to get to the end of their songs though.
The girls dance while you sing, and as the rules of Stripparaoke state: You can't touch the dancers, but they can touch you. Probably will to if your shy, nervous, cute, looking the other way, or especially if you're a girl. In fact your doomed if your a cute girl (of which there are many in the crowd, very chick friendly).The shenanigans don't stop with the molestation of the innocent though. Far from it. The endless number of redonkulous costumes to come out of the dressing rooms is priceless, from Hillary Clinton masks, to bridal-esque skirts and veils, it's the musical naked circus I always dreamed of.
Stripparaoke is a fantastically fun night, and a hoot and half all around.
The night of the trip out to Devil's Point came with a rough start. I pawed around the edges of my bed to find where my glasses got thrown. They weren't anywhere to be found. This meant I had driven drunk across a new town last night without them. You're a reckless man, Charlie Brown. Not one to push my abundant Irish-Mexican luck, a decision was made to cab it on my next trip out.
The list of places was long but the choice wasn't hard. Devil's Point's isn't too far from Lucky Devil Lounge and any drinker should just move further down the strip.
When I arrived through the doors, deciding where to sit down wasn't an issue. The floor was clear of peeps and had plenty of tables in the center. Small enough to seat one and an oil-lamp provided enough light to write by. Perfect. Up toward the stage, the rack itself was generously sized and arranged along the ends of a stage jutting out from the back wall. A pair of thick chains brought the devil's point home. We get it -- you're a naughty, evil man for enjoying the female form. Hell is where you'll rest. And, of course, the omnipresent strip club fixture of a mirror at the back of the stage to expand the view to a full 360 degrees.
Compared with Lucky Devil's service, I really have to rep the dread-locked bartender at Devil's Point. Prompt to greet me, nice and quick with a grin, plus knowledgeable of all the ales on tap. He made me a damn good Kamikaze shot, using a pestle to crush a lime into the ice cubes. Though, not too finely -- a few tiny chunks of ice sat in the drink to crunch on. A pleasing distraction. The few jutting faux wood blocks marked the selection of tap beers as less extensive.
Reunited again with my nightly-orphaned twins, Beer and Shot came with me to be coddled and loved at my table. A dude with huge muttonchops passed me as I sat down, the emcee for the night, across the floor to the DJ station tucked in back. His hair did the work of nicknaming him Sideburns for me.
Sideburns announced that a girl named Pisces was first up. Pisces. So far, among a shortlist of great stage names in your humble author's book, that name stands out. For the curious, Mirage comes in at the top, the cleverness and blunt honesty is appreciated. Striking in person, 'Mirage,' this well-seeming illusion, retains an upscale, Vegas-esque promise of quality.
Pisces was a card-carrying member of the Ass-Jiggle club. When the bottom came off she thrust her legs apart, finger following the natural curve of her leg making its way to a baby's breath away from her vag. Said finger pointed, alternatively, at either ends of a splayed-out pussy. From a row or two back, this gave me the impression she was pointing at the outer ends of her labia (had to look that up). I thought back to the lame anatomy charts of middle school sex-ed class coupled with inadequate explanations of burgeoning adolescence and general boning. This wasn't enough for Pisces. Apparently, she wasn't having any of that weak shit and when the gentleman getting the anatomy demo didn't take to her point, she slapped her ass to redirect him.
A shock of bleach on black hair heralded a Stormy set. Stormy's a hot mamba jamba. Clearly, she loved to interact and play with the crowd, which made me question the wisdom of playing Nirvana's song "Rape Me". What is usually an invisible barrier between stage and crowd disappeared: Stormy slid down into people-filled chairs to give a nude howdy-doo. She began to collect items of clothing from the rack-dwellers to wear: a baseball cap, a scarf, etc. This struck me as an enterprising scheme. Briefly considered waiting out back at closing time to catch her heading to a car with a Santa bag full of stolen shit to pawn off. But the freezing rain of Portland intervened; an ever-wet ground makes it impossible to tell if you've stepped in dog poop.
The girl who had been seated next to Sideburns most of the night in the DJ went through the side entrance to the back. Cricket, this one. Boy, was I wrong. She tricked the pole like a pro. I mean, Day-um!! Suspicious at first, my eyes squinted to see if I could make out a Hong Kong wire team working behind her.
It made me think that the question of stripping as an artform is a tough one. I believe it is, albeit underappreciated, but if we are honest: few people go into a strip club looking for anything more than booze and a cheap peek. Yet, her burlesque ballet almost made me forget that contractually obligations required she get naked. Considering that any naked, beautiful form can arouse desire: the measure of ecdysiast art is, at once, sexual enticement and its transcendence. Someone should give Cricket a beret and a latte. Kid's an artist.
The club floor got crowded and I took that as a sign I should leave. Tabbed out with the bartender then ventured to smoke another cigarette outside. This one was all right and made waiting for a cab out in the cold bearable.
All said, a good night.
spot in PDX. Sure of course it doesn't work for everyone's circumstance... but you've got great bartenders giving good pours... and more importantly, the coolest and hottest dancers in the Nor'west.
The biggest difference maker is the music. (I mean Sassy's isn't bad but I suppose I've probably heard G&R and The Crue about as much as I can handle for the rest of my life.) I mean I can't blame the DJ if some drunk dude from the Couve slips him a $20.00 but that's pretty much the only excuse. I only want to see strippers that pretty much laugh their asses off at shit music of that level.
Now people can't even complain about the smoke! Everyone is just happier than shit on a shingle now right?!?!
Plus with the non-smoking patio you can meet and greet all of the best that Foster Rd. has to offer! (seriously though...an awning might be nice touch for outside...I'm no meteorologist but it does tend to rain a bit in Portland in the winter months).
Really loud music. Beer. Chicks. Fire. Darkness.
In all seriousness, any one of these things should be more than enough reason to bring you out on a Monday.
Name me one god-damn thing you can possibly do on a Monday? You can't, can you? Here's why... because you smoke crack. Your memory has been methodically shit out for the last decade by emotional pill-popping and the heroin of romance. You dumb yourself down with habitual dating, rat-race overdose, and the rusty needle of ~shudder~ night-time Cop dramas.
Your probably dating that christian chick from cubical # 506, arn't you? I bet she really digs on your "self-expression" Loony-Tunes tie. I'm sure she thinks about your modest haircut and '03 Saturn till she touches herself.
You know what you need? You need a tattoed flame-hurtling bitch to whoop your ass and psychologically molest you to Cradle of Filth.
Trust me, it'll cure you of your shitty rush-hour-to-rush-hour cubical goatrope you call a life.
Bring your girlfriend. The chicks at Devil's will looooooooooove her. Literally.
Ok so my friend and I thought we would check out this hole in the wall since it was close to my house. When we got there I noticed there was little seating in the joint. I had to wait till two people got up and left before we could sit down. SO we get to and its an okay joint...for a hidden dyke bar. Only one dancer made eye contact with me and that was for one song. The rest of the dancers ONLY gave attention to either the women in the front row or to gay men. The funniest part is some one chick with a thicker body (I like) but with some stupid black and white Punk hairstyle sucked this overly gay guy sitting next to an overweight Rue Paul, finger then he in return tried to "seduce" her by re-sucking it. Like the dancer gives a shit. The hottest chick there was Nikita who preformed with fire. But again...spend all her time flirting with the chicks. We left when some chick with the body like Olive Oyl called Cricket, danced to the most obnoxious so-called "music". It was just noice and since the joint was so small my ears began to ring. Oh and whats up with the short little annoying dyke that hugged the wall and put her head on the dancers tits and talked to them inbetween sets? Was she security? All I saw her do was talk to the strippers and wipe down the dance floor inbetween songs. The place is fuckin wild. No one asked for a "dance" no one gave a shit. The only reason to go was for the fire girl, but if there isnt any attention given, really whats the point?
There wasnt one time I felt like it was a club for str8 dudes. The two glasses of coke tasted real nice tho.
Briefly worked here as a stripper a few years back, are Bartenders Jeff, Ian, Karen still there? Love them, mostly Jeff! Love, Love LOVE the stage! The first time I spun around one of those monster chains, I was in heaven(or was it Hell?)! Forget the pole!, bring on the chains! I've been back a couple times since "retiring" still love the place. And after "Sinferno" nights @ Dantes, when the Fire girrrrls show up...the serious party starts! Those grrrls rock! Thanks, Jeff for playing dominoes w/me on those deadly slow afternoons, Karen, for turning me onto "Arrested Development"... And did "Bones" make it back from that STOOOPID war? Tell him I'm still playing Nilsson, and remembering how much fun I had there! Loved coming in on comedy nights, getting lame jokes in my direction,"Why do they have such big bags? Aren't they going to be wearing LESS clothes?"..."Ha! Ha! Ha!...Moron, it's for my REALLY, BIG.....SHOES!" Guy actually tried to give me the mike that night... gotta love the Devil, and his Point!
Really Crowded. Hard to find seating unless ya get there really early on the striperoke night. Was fun to watch friends and people interact. Good Show, Good Booze. Just need a little more seating and room to breath :)
I like going to DP. Only place in town that I feel "at home". Actually if Im not at home or at work Im probably there. Recently Ive been getting rather tired of the same dancers, doing the same routines. Because of this I havent gone as much lately. Its just once youve seen something 1000 times, you kinda get bored with it. DP needs some more strictly pole dancers. I forgot her name, but a few years ago there was a performer who did all kinds of pole acrobatics, spinning and twirling and all that. Other than that the place f'n rules.
On a side note to the performers. Im there to be entertained, and I will pay you for doing a good job. The more entertaining, the more money Ill toss up on stage. But when you crawl around next to the rack talking and yacking with your friends, which are mainly other women, Im not gonna pay you shit as you are not entertaining me. You want the $$$, then work for the $$$.
I love the Point, without a doubt the best strip club in P-town. But I'm getting tired of the shaved look. Didn't Britney's flash chase the shaved beaver back to the elementary school playground where it belongs?
Come on girls, leave at least a little bit so we don't feel any more like the old perverts than we already are.
You're all looking at 60's magazines for your head-hair styles. Why not grab a few classic 70's and 80's Penthouses and Playboys and see how to style the better hair? Maybe then I'll pony up for a lap dance.
A very clean bathroom. One stripper did the most amazing things with these flaming batons. I mean she really was talented, but she didn't show any pelt... what the fuck is that all about? Good times.
Devil's Point is still a fun place, but it needs an influx of newer strippers... some of the hotter regulars have left in the last year and it needs new blood. Still good drinks and cool bartenders though.
DP is cool. Cool for inner SE anyway. I wish they would have more nights of just music - no whores on the stage. I don't know, seems they could be more creative with the entertainment. Though, the dancerz are the hottest in town, in my book.
This place used to be one kick-ass hangout when it was just "The Point." When they changed the name and changed formats (i.e., added dancers) it lost it's appeal for me. I used to spend many a night closing the bar and even attending after-hours at The Point before it became Devil's Point, but now it's just a totally different place.
I miss my favorite bar :(
I think Devil's Point is my favorite bar here besides The Bog, however, I've heard shitty, snide remarks from a couple of the regulars who know the bar staff well as a result of my OWN comments I made which had NOTHING to do with them. It put a bit of a tarnish over the whole scene for me which sucked since I thought I'd found ~thee~ place for me.
I'll return, however, I believe in giving 3 more chances! heh heh! I just hope some people can use their intellect in sweeter ways than running good (new) people out of there by mocking what they say at the bar and destroying the atmosphere.
KP. S.e. Portland
I'm insulted a bit by Barfly's use of "mini-Dantes". Devils Point offers something Dantes doesn't. Pure physical perfection, undiluted by clothing, but still imbued by personality.. Dantes is a dim light compared to Devils Point beacon of lovely fantasy building evil!
Alls I know is that I straight woke the fuck up with a mother of a hangover covered in some frickin'glitter glue shit. I went down stairs and my mom and dad were straight standin up in front of the dining room table looking all pissed off and my mom was crying all sniffly like.
When I asked em 'What the hell?" My dad just about ripped my fucking head off saying "WHAT???!! Huh, you little faggot! THIS is WHAT!!" He totally threw a grip of these polaroids at me like he was trying to put my damn eye out or something. I pick one up and just about fucking puked, dude. Seriously
It was a fuckin picture of me down on my knees eatin balls in some public restroom. Worse part about it is, I was wearing roller skates and some fairy-lookin black dude was sprinklin some kinda white crytally stuff all the fuck over me as I was totally eating balls. ...Yeah, shit man, Devil's Pointe...WHOO...I'm not fucking kiddin.
some dude ate my balls in the bathroom while Pour Some Sugar On Me played on the jukebox... HEAVEN!
great bands play there, cool people that work there, dark and seedy... in all the best ways! http://www.mzconduct.com
Overall Rating of Devil's Point
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