Looks can be deceiving.
Take, for instance, the stretch of urban curiosities at the Biscayne end of 79th Street Causeway. Not your first choice for a night out (though that Benihana's has its charms).
But starting this evening, you'll want to add an unassuming law office to your nightlife rotation. That's where you'll find The Office, a hidden den of sax-fueled jazz and Afro-Cuban funk, debuting tonight.
If the city had an actual, non-faux speakeasy, it would look something like this. Nestled behind large wooden doors in a building that still houses law offices (the owner's practice is next door), the place feels a bit like a smoky music club you'd stumble on in an episode of Dexter. It's the kind of place where the music is jazzy, the lights are dim, the cognac is flowing, and the fedoras are plentiful.
After your date has gotten over the initial fear that you're taking her to sign an affidavit, make your way past the waterfall at the entrance and the marble bar lining the corridor. She'll marvel that the place feels nothing like a fluorescent-lit cubicle, while you'll appreciate the discreet nooks where you can settle in for intimate conversation that has nothing to do with tort reform.
And don't worry, the band doesn't charge by the hour.
Take, for instance, the stretch of urban curiosities at the Biscayne end of 79th Street Causeway. Not your first choice for a night out (though that Benihana's has its charms).
But starting this evening, you'll want to add an unassuming law office to your nightlife rotation. That's where you'll find The Office, a hidden den of sax-fueled jazz and Afro-Cuban funk, debuting tonight.
If the city had an actual, non-faux speakeasy, it would look something like this. Nestled behind large wooden doors in a building that still houses law offices (the owner's practice is next door), the place feels a bit like a smoky music club you'd stumble on in an episode of Dexter. It's the kind of place where the music is jazzy, the lights are dim, the cognac is flowing, and the fedoras are plentiful.
After your date has gotten over the initial fear that you're taking her to sign an affidavit, make your way past the waterfall at the entrance and the marble bar lining the corridor. She'll marvel that the place feels nothing like a fluorescent-lit cubicle, while you'll appreciate the discreet nooks where you can settle in for intimate conversation that has nothing to do with tort reform.
And don't worry, the band doesn't charge by the hour.
