Crystal

This club would be right at home in Las Vegas. It’s flashy, iridescent, and over-​the-​top… it’s called «crystal» because long stalactites of, you guessed it, crystal hang from the ceiling like icicles.
Entering from the relative demure darkness of Wells Street, Crystal opens up like an enormous glowing cave… you’re immediately met by the long bar and a sea of geometrically-​shaped tables assembled in sunken floor. *Everything* radiates with a moody blue neon light… even the chairs and tables and ice buckets are illuminated.
Think of Crystal like a Christmas ornament… glittering on the outside, hollow inside; the dazzling façade is thin and fragile — easily shattered; you sort of wonder if Crystal has any soul.
What’s nice about Crystal is that, unlike some clubs, mixed groups aren’t required… which means that you’re much more likely to socialize with the tables next to you. I’ve actually met some surprisingly nice and interesting people here.
Beyond the décor and vibe, Crystal also reminds me of a Vegas club because of their souvenir portraits — you and your group can have your drunkenness formally captured and placed in an *elegant* black paper Crystal frame for you to take home, which, guaranteed, you’ll want to burn the next day… Awww…