South Beach nightlife clearly never read the story of Goldilocks: choices are limited to shiny-shirted oontz-oontzing too hot, or dives that're too-cold, if only because of the chilly reception for having all your own teeth. This one's juuuust right, Bar 721.

From the fun-loving minds of Martin, a former Dutch marine, and Dan, the local-legend/former owner of New Concept Video (the only place you could get both art house and adult stuff in the 90s), 721's a big, loft of a bar that's neither a club nor dive and feels lived in by someone dedicated to plush debauchery, with a 40-foot bar mosaic-ed like a disco ball in copper, gold and eggplant tiles, and a backbar of tall espresso wood cubbies -- just like the ones from kindergarten, if your teacher was Mrs. Juan Valdez. The room divides into three vignettes: up front it's exposed brick walls, dark wood benches and art like metal peacocks juxtaposed with nudie girl art, the middle feels like a rock star's living room, with a big shag rug, and a mid-'60s-looking horseshoe-shaped couch stacked with throw pillows facing a four-foot flat screen for video games, while the back area's like a rec room, with '50s furniture, a pool table, a bookcase full of board games and a table to play them on, but good luck trying to play NoseCandyland. The bar's rocking beers like Grolsch, Kirin, and Presidente as well as a series of seasonally infused vodkas with options like pumpkin (for now), pineapple, and passion fruit when the time comes, plus specialty cocktails like a mescal margarita rimmed with smokey BBQ salt, since Smokey Robinson salt is creepily derived from the tears of a clown.

The whole joint's lined with 12 speakers aiming down from the ceiling, and running through a sound system that allows three different spots for DJs to set up their magic -- if you spend too long in the middle one, prepare to be eaten by bears.

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