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This venue is closed.

The Culture Club is like a surreal high-school gym dance where the chaperones are stone-faced security guards wearing Peace Patrol T-shirts and the Heathers are a gaggle of inebriated 30-something bachelorettes performing the electric slide on a small light-up dance floor. Floor-to-ceiling murals of Debbie Gibson, Prince, et. al. add ammunition to the secret hunch that the silver Delorean hanging over the bar has transported you back to the future. The curacao-saturated Smurf drink is served in a plastic commemorative cup the size of a small bucket. If that fails to get you into the mood, take a breather from 80s power pop on the bleachers under the giant neon-rimmed ET moon. Should all of this hit you like a bad acid-washed pair of jeans, adjust your flux capacitor to time warp you to the 90s. Upstairs, Nerve-Ana might deliver a different decade but the smell of post-teen spirit is just as intense. More specialty drinks with names like Liquid Prozac can be found, along with a Peach Pit After Dark elevated dance floor, replete with life-sized cutouts of the 90210 cast. Those seeking escape from the ice-ice babies doing the running man to contemporary hip hop can hide out in the gutted replica of OJ's white Ford Bronco. There are seats and tables inside. — Jennifer Dowd

No sneakers, baseball hats, tank tops or other sleeveless tops for men.