All those one-word nightclub names can leave you in wretched confusion about what to expect -- LA's "Mood" doesn't specify which mood, London's "Fabric" could be burlap, and christ were you embarrassed when you showed up to Ibiza's "Space" accompanied by a rhesus monkey and an ant farm. Much more to the point: Vanity. Opening New Years Eve, Vanity's an obsessively glammed-out palace of shameless self-involvement awash in pearls, hand-cut crystals, rubbed brass, chrome, antique mirrors, multifaceted reflective walls, and a rocker-suited staff, all opulent-ized by the cockily named Mister Important Designs, with the flattering goal of "focusing the experience on the most important person in the room -- you". Tough break, Kid Rock. Entrance is via an escalator ensconced in floor-to-ceiling velvet and satin curtains; make a left through an entrance-way festooned with hand mirrors, and you're faced with a monolithic, 48ft marble bar and a sprawling dance floor lit up by a looming cyclone chandelier bejeweled with 20,000 crystals; made thump-tastic by the same sound engineers as Tao; and bordered by an onyx catwalk, sure to be SLAM!-ed with models. The 50 VIP tables and booths (which start at $500) each come with crystal bowls brimming with the house's secret-recipe punch, while the champagne menu's engraved on, again, a hand-held mirror; the ladies room actually maintains technicians to fix nails, style hair, and spruce makeup, while all bathrooms are equipped with full-length three-way mirrors, in which you'll discover that eyeshadow's maybe not such a terrible move. Five additional cabanas can be had on an outdoor terrace featuring a massive fire pit, Sky Bar access, and a view overlooking Rehab -- if actual rehab centers were that transparently named, maybe you wouldn't have assumed Sundance's "Cirque Lodge" was a place where your monkey might find gainful employment.