The luxury party planner of Ibiza revealed: He’s the fixer for the smart set who blow £700k a weekend. Now he tells JANE FRYER secrets of their outrageous spending and demands, the astonishing clean-up… and wild hangover cure

Every year, more than ten million tourists flock to Ibiza’s sunny shores. Some come for wholesome family holidays. Others are here for gong therapy and yoga on wellness breaks.

A lot come to get very drunk in very few clothes on the infamous San Antonio Strip. And the cooler set let their hair down in some of the world’s best clubs.

But, recently, a new ultra-wealthy group with an extraordinary zest for partying have started doing it rather differently.

They arrive via private jet, chopper or business class, use IV drips after all-night blowouts and often stay for just a couple of nights – but cram more hedonism into 48 hours than most of us manage in a lifetime.

For this new breed of high-end partier – think footballers, musicians, politicians, royals, business titans and even some very successful plumbers and lorry drivers – ‘full on’ is not enough. They want more. Much more.

So a luxury villa staffed with a uniformed array of chefs, a butler and a full cleaning team is a must – plus a private nightclub for a cheeky 24-hour champagne and tequila-fuelled after-party.

And they’ll definitely want a superyacht at their disposal, complete with DJ, bar staff, chef and perhaps a few professional dancers for garnish.

That’s not forgetting reservations at the best restaurants on the island – just in case they fancy a change from the private chefs – and VIP tables at the best clubs, where bar bills often top €100,000.

If they’re really feeling like spoiling themselves, perhaps they’ll have a fleet of identical chauffeured Bentleys idling by the villa ready to ferry them around.

And a burly security team who are more likely to have to protect them from their own crazy excesses than from local criminals – but more on this later.

All of this sounds wonderfully ‘high net worth’, but of course someone’s got to secure the very best of the best to make it happen.

So they all call a 26-year-old chap called Domenique Wissink, and cross their expensively tanned fingers that he’ll accept them as clients.

Dom is the discreet fixer who runs Extra Ibiza, a luxury concierge firm specialising in ultra-short, ultra-intense party trips for visitors happy to spend an average of £60,000 per head, per weekend.

Yes, £60,000! Even for Ibiza, this seems such a monstrously ridiculous sum that, earlier this week, I popped over to meet him and check it wasn’t a mistake.

But it turns out that’s just the start of it. Because, while some of us are worrying drearily about the cost of food and fuel, and whether we should change energy providers to save £20 a month, Dom’s clients are hosing money over the Balearic island as if it were on fire.

‘They spend a lot,’ he says. ‘An awful lot. Groups of friends will spend €800,000 [almost £700,000] in a weekend. They want the best and they want everyone to know they’ve got the best.’ 

One of the yachts that Domenique rents out to his clients floats on the shimmering azure sea

Jane Fryer spent some time in Ibiza learning secrets from Domenique, the party king of Ibiza

Dom, an entrepreneur and former DJ, who is Dutch, softly spoken, astonishingly well connected and seems much older and wiser than his years, began his business three years ago. He and his team have been flat out ever since.

Last summer, they hosted 8,000 clients – mostly groups of extremely bouncy male friends in their 30s and 40s here for a blowout, but also wealthy families looking for top luxury getaways without the relentless partying.

This summer, he expects double the clients. ‘At the moment we’re getting an inquiry every ten minutes and, of those, after we’ve filtered them out, we’ll service about ten per cent.’

Sadly, he can’t share names or his business would implode in about ten seconds.

But he tells me that they jet in from all over – millionaires, billionaires, government officials, royalty, celebrities from all around the world: America, Italy, France, Australia, India, Arab countries, Dubai. And, of course, the UK.

The Brits mainly come in groups of men (and a few women) and are a mix of City types, DJs, musicians, crypto kings, swingers – ‘always so lovely and respectful’ – and a lot of Premier League footballers – ‘they are so surprisingly polite and lovely that I really can’t say a bad word about them’.

For most, it’s a mixture of hedonistic behaviour and ostentatious spending. They’ll drink Dom Perignon 2008, Cristal, Casa Azul tequila and top-end vodka – ‘they don’t know much about wine, they just say “whatever’s expensive”‘ – eat a lot of caviar, and book 80ft party yachts and the showiest tables in the best clubs.

‘We know why most of them are here. Ibiza is the party island,’ says Dom. ‘But my rules are very strict – I’ll provide anything but prostitutes and drugs.’ Of course, this doesn’t stop them. They party shockingly hard and want to cram in as much as possible without breaking the ‘flow’ of their carefully curated weekend.

This yacht has a double sun lounger with a 007 theme, as well as plenty of expensive wine bottles

Dom helps with that, too. He sends medical teams to the villas with IV drips when they finally surface from the after-party.

Nurses rig up the revellers 12 at a time with vitamins and all sorts, to get them ready to re-join the fray in an hour or so.

‘They come here to destroy themselves,’ says Billy Atkinson of Eterna, a longevity firm with a lucrative sideline in hangover cures in Ibiza Town. ‘Some groups will spend €10,000 on IV drips in a couple of days, but if they’re spending €70,000 a weekend they don’t want to be in bed on the Saturday night.’

Ibiza has always been cool, hedonistic and costlier than the other Balearic islands, but for some of Dom’s clients, it seems the more ostentatiously expensive the better.

He tells me they’ll pay deposits on VIP tables in all the big clubs and then just swing into the one they fancy on the night. Same with restaurants.

And when they’re clubbing, they won’t balk at €30,000 bottles of Cristal champagne and tequila.

‘A round of three bottles can easily be €100,000. But they’re at the best table in one of the best clubs in the world,’ he says. ‘And they’re being seen. That’s what a lot of them want.’ They want a lot of other things, too.

Including a private after-party at their villa when the island’s clubs close at 6am.

They also want yachts – costing between £7,000 to £20,000 a day, plus fuel – complete with DJ and cocktails, and crew that don’t blanch when everyone’s clothes come off.

Billy Atkinson works for Eterna, a longevity firm with a lucrative sideline in hangover cures in Ibiza Town

‘Some groups will spend €10,000 on IV drips in a couple of days,’ says Atkinson

Yachts like this one cost between £7,000 and £20,000 a day – and that’s without taking fuel into account

And until recently, with the banning of ‘dwarf bullfighting’ in 2023, the employment of people with dwarfism as strippers or bouncers at private parties was hugely popular. ‘They thought it was funny. They loved them,’ says Dom, who has no issue with booking strippers – ‘it’s part of the show, so long as they’re safe’.

While Dom is deeply unflashy himself in his thick wool overcoat, he knows his way round extreme wealth – and hedonism.

He first went to rehab at 17, lived in exclusive Swiss ski resort Zermatt for years with his girlfriend, was a regular on the European DJ circuit, has been sober for years and has his fingers in endless luxury businesses – hotels, private islands and property – with a huge brain that is constantly whirring.

He knows the ridiculous level of cosseting demanded by the really rich. The required thread count for the sheets. The softness of the towels. The cachet of a professional pastry chef among the kitchen staff to make perfect croissants and canapes – ‘everyone has a private chef, but a pastry chef is a notch above’.

He tells me about one group of eight who had a staff of 26. And a group of six Arabs who requested five matching Range Rovers.

It goes without saying that the clients can be very high maintenance. One woman went mad about a small scratch in the superyacht teak. Another was so intoxicated before boarding her yacht that she fell in the harbour.

‘She tried to sue us to save face,’ Dom says. ‘But it’s all good, they pay a lot of money. They’re entitled to be demanding – it keeps us on our toes.’

It’s usually when they’re in full party mode that his clients become the most challenging.

Chefa Miranda, a brilliant private chef, prepares meat for a villa party. Not infrequently, she’ll serve up dinner for parties of ten or 12, only to discover they’ve all gone out

A client could want vapes to be delivered at 3am. Or chewing gum. Or a particular brand of mineral water. Or an inflatable cinema set up by the pool. One group paid €600 (£520) for a Bluetooth speaker to be delivered to their villa at 4am. Another demanded a tattoo artist come to the villa during their after-party. ‘There was a lot of to-ing and fro-ing about designs!’ says Dom.

The wealth he deals with is eye-watering. And so is the waste. All those €10,000 VIP table deposits. Mountains of uneaten caviar left sitting in the sun on yachts. Hundreds of unopened bottles of Dom Perignon that, at the end of the trip, clients can’t be bothered to have shipped home.

‘We always offer and they have never once wanted them,’ says Dom. So he dishes them out to his staff, along with occasional cash tips of €3,000, €5,000 or even €7,000.

‘The craziest was €10,000 after a day trip on a yacht,’ he says.

Chefa Miranda, a brilliant private chef, tells me that, not infrequently, she’ll serve up dinner for villa parties of ten or 12, only to discover they’ve all gone out to a restaurant without telling her.

‘What can you do? I’m doing my job and they’ve paid for it.’

And the mess! Infinity pools are left bobbing with beer bottles, condoms clog the filters. Curtains are ripped down. Glasses and furniture smashed. But most annoying is the fluffy white towels – all stained by the dye in pink cocaine (a synthetic drug that is all the rage in Ibiza at the moment).

‘They blow their noses on them and the pink is impossible to get out, so we have to throw them all away,’ Dom says.

Some villas require a 12-strong cleaning team at the end of a weekend. We visit one beauty – 1,000 sq m of glass, infinity pool and sea views on a £30million private estate.

It has ten staff, underfloor heating on the terrace – just in case it’s breezy – and builders are busy installing a private club.

Later, we take a spin on one of his most popular yachts, which is midway through a big pre-season clean-up job, because the last group were so badly behaved.

Italians, he tells me, are the worst for mess and damage, along with those born so rich ‘who’ve never had to pick up after themselves’.

His favourites are Brits who’ve saved up for a blowout – ‘plumbers, carpenters, who are here with their best mates, having the best time, they are always grateful’.

Of course, with all this hedonism comes risks. Middle-aged men going mad for 48 hours don’t always know where to stop. So far, Dom’s clients have had no serious medical emergencies, but it’s quite a job keeping them all safe.

Dr Enrique Lunar Ochoa of The Vitamin Therapy company tells me that sometimes when they get to the villas with IV drips, the residents are too high or paranoid to be treated.

‘They can be too dehydrated to find a vein, or out of their mind with anxiety,’ he says.

Ironically, it is often the security teams who pull Dom’s clients back from the brink. ‘They know when to step in and intervene and say, “now cut it”,’ he says. ‘Quite a lot of security guards have saved lives and the clients are very grateful!’

Even so, the next day, they tend to be back on it, wringing their weekend dry.

Blimey. Two days in Dom’s Ibiza is quite an eye opener. Never have I seen so much cash splurged on so little.

And as I leave him limbering up for this year’s influx of uber-rich with their ridiculous demands, appalling behaviour and more money than sense, all I can think is, rather him than me.

Additional reporting by Matt Barbour