Bigger isn't always better: sure, Andre The Giant could allegedly drink five cases of beer in one sitting, but his heart gave out at 46, and the poor guy could never find a one-shouldered spandex singlet that fit. For a club small enough to already be a VIP room, get into Twelve.

In the former Hed Kandi space, Twelve's way smaller than most South Beach halls of bottle service swagger, but it's still a totally rigged-up club; they've cleared out the middle of the room, tripled the bar's size, and decked the joint with orb-like black & white banquettes, two 6-foot flatscreens for VJs to play with, a lighting system shooting surges of color around the perimeter of the room, and last but not least, two patent leather dancing poles, who're just happy their country invented the very vodka that gets them action. Grown-up drinks're provided by a full bar, leveraged for a craft cocktail list including the En Fuego (tequila/passion fruit/jalapenos), the Orange Bliss (vodka/Grand Marnier/orange slices/honey), the Dimplomatico (dark rum, mint, lime, sugar), and one with Bourbon, muddled strawberries & basil called Strawberry Fields, which'll soothingly croon "let me take you down". Different nights get different vibes: Tuesdays it's the Black Betty party rocking mash ups by Pirate Stereo, Thursday reps a downtown indie feel with Poplife's Recess (DJ Contra and Mike Deuce), Friday drops house, and Saturdays're "open format" with hip-hop tendencies -- so, they'll be wearing 15 chains and developing fake beefs to boost album sales?

Twelve re-affirms its club-ness via bottle service, which comprises choices like Johnnie Walker Blue & Black, Macallan, Hendrick's, Don Julio Silver, and bubbly like Perrier-Jouet Fleur Blanc de Blanc -- which any doctor'll tell you you'll be shooting if your undies are as tight as Andre's.

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