Superstar DJ’s and the VIP circus that surrounds them bring employment to thousands of people on the island every year.You may detest their music, you may loathe the very mention of the term VIP, but I wager almost everyone will have a VIP Euro, either directly or indirectly, in their pockets by the time the season ends. We talk of VIP but in my opinion, it’s become a self-perpetuating myth. Merely a simple marketing tool to promote one business or one person over another. It’s important to remember that the only thing separating us from them is a piece of cheap, tacky, imitation, velvet rope strung between two poles. A vast magic trick played on us all by those in the background that pull all the strings. I’m sure it was a simple life back then with shared experiences.If Shaggy’s sliding scale of workers is to be used as the new benchmark for island hierarchy, then I’ve one foot in the Wannabe camp and one foot in the grave.Ray Davison* works in the Ibiza VIP industry and comes into contact with the high rollers and hangers-on every day so is perfectly placed to give his views on a culture that doesn’t appear to be slowing down any time soon. I settled Ibiza in 2012 , the year Ushuaia opened it’s doors.
This was soon copied by the competition and it is now a worldwide scheme of defining hotel quality.
Ibiza is an island which offers something for everyone.
Families, youngsters,yoga retreats, wellness centres, green juice bars. Peel back the wafer thing veneer of VIP and the real Ibiza still there. The trouble is, in my opinion, Ibiza VIP has become so diluted with pretenders, journeymen and impostors, that the essence of why it was created in the first place has been lost. Almost every business has invested in a piece of rope and two chrome poles to chase that last euro before the season ends, reinforcing the general malaise creeping into society of keeping the ‘haves and have-nots’ apart.
Every day I experience the natural beauty of this island and the best daily show on earth. Something that we all tried to escape from when we chose to live in Ibiza in the first place. An island free of class structure where rock stars and pop idols would happily rub shoulders with the likes of you and I.
A length of velvet rope strung between two chrome poles that has brought a perceived division to Ibiza, which is exactly what it’s supposed to do. There has always been a grading culture and it’s exactly the same as the grey suited men who ran a hotel chain in America in the 1950’s.
All that is wrong with Ibiza summed up in three letters with many wishing that V. Seeking to promote their brand above the competitors they awarded their hotels stars.