Y'all Come Back Saloon

For this weekly goth drama scene of tortured industrial music and gloom-and-doom ambiance (appropriately placed on the most depressing day of the week), it's best not to stop the theatrics at the lips. Black, and nothing but black, is the unstated but understood dress code. For how does one convey that gorgeously tormented sense of one's existential conflicts and misunderstood angst (okay, how does one at least look gorgeously tormented; that's the most important thing, after all) while wearing the usual khakis and denim or Day-Glo colors so common in the usual nightclubs? It can't be done. If you're normally a regular at South Beach, you may need a bit of inspiration for this set. So look to the cluster of snow-pale girls convening in the corner, ornamented in vinyl and velvet bodices, tongue piercings, leather lace-up boots, and intricate black eyeliner swirls. Or, for the gents, survey the pack of male darksiders against the bar, wearing pretty much the same attire (sans bodice, but including the eyeliner), accented by black nail polish and looking oh-so Nietzschean. And there is always that mysterious, smoldering urban gypsy--the brave soul who shuns the poseur codes and takes the floor before anyone else dares to venture there--with the jewel on her forehead and loose raven locks that flail as she spins to celestial electronica. (Once the fashionably late regulars arrive, the dance floor becomes packed.) So drink, dance, and be sulky to your dark soul's content, because upon daylight it's back to the normal workaday world. Chances are your office doesn't follow such an interesting dress code.


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