Address: 657 Harrison St. 

Supperclub blends unbridled pretension with booty club sleazy to make the dumbest cocktail you ever suspected was roofied. Supperclub is a space-age bar where you sit in beds. That way you can pretend to be a decadent Victorian while still acknowledging that you ascribe to modern sexual mores. Be sure not to miss the semi-regular traffic light party, where the women are ordered to dress in green if they're available, red if they're committed, and yellow if they're teases. The bouncer tells me men have no suggested color code because the predator need not stoop to the level of the prey.