There's nothing more inspiring than watching someone defiantly living grandly, even as their lifestyle becomes more untenable by the second -- if you've seen Titanic, the best analogy's the stringed quartet, and if you haven't seen Titanic, neither have we. For a lounge that'll lavish you in your time of bankruptcy, Citrine.
Opened at the exquisitely wrong time by the guys who brought DJs to Puffy's Tavern, Citrine's illuminated by sweeping, kaleidoscopically-patterned lights and an immense, rotationally-lit glass bar, all dominated by a two-story DJ booth accessible only by ladder -- making it nigh impossible to request "Doing the Butt".
Centered along a doublewide runway of a dance floor, the 17 bottle service-only tables are attended by citrine-bedecked waitresses, and supported by multi-level, dance-friendly banquettes literally stuffed with pulsing sub-woofers (joyously reminding out-of-town ladies of their washing machines).
If you're suffering financially -- but not enough to stop drinking at clubs -- hit the full-service bar slinging custom cocktails and bottles of Sapporo, Heineken, and Corona (in lean times, you must change your damn latitude).
Citrine's opening Tue-Sat at first, and within two months'll open for a fifth night -- though if you go on a Monday, expect them to hand you a violin. Just pretend you don't know what it means.