Rounding 6th onto South Olive Street I find myself thinking "this city should be cleansed with fire." Then one pulls up to the valet in front of 617 and finds a miraculous oasis in a sea of depravity.
Upon entering the Oviatt Building (1928) one steps into antiquity encased in amber. The Cicada Club is a time capsule created by and for people who were raised on Turner Classic Movies and long to step into an art deco world which now exists only on celluloid; except it's still here, living and breathing, with hardly a hint of irony.
Watch any film from the 30's containing a nightclub scene. It exists in real life at the Cicada Club, replete with the original gilded ornamentation.
I didn't expect to enjoy the food. The venue's novelty caused me to expect bland mediocrity. I was pleasantly surpised by the quality of my scallop and whitefish special.
We dined upstairs, enjoying the view. Adjacent to our table was a lounge area and bar, replete with a piano that some of the evening's talent used to warm up.
Dancing to swinging tunes is a novelty in and of itself, but as an added bonus there are dancing girls.
Speaking of eye candy, look how sparkling Silvia is when she elects to "be a girl."
Add to all this a set of seasoned bartenders who know how to make a proper Old Fashioned and you create an experience I was geeking out over from the moment the doorman greeted us until staggering to the car.
And best of all: there's hardly a hipster to be found in the joint.
I'm looking forward to our next visit.
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