Finally, a place for clubbers to get their party on in Fort Lauderdale. Don't get us wrong: Velvet Lounge is an upscale nightclub on a par with anything South Beach has to offer but sans most of the attitude. As the name implies, there's velvet aplenty: red and black velvet on the walls, royal blue and black velvet couches -- but no Elvis painting. After paying the $5 cover charge, you can stock up on candy, cigars, and cigarettes at the concession counter next to the front doors. Straight ahead is the Bottle Bar, where for $150 you can play socialite and reserve a table complete with your own security guard and hostess. Keep going, and you'll hit the sunken dance floor, right beneath the stage where dancers and live acts perform. Above the dance floor, acid-jazz, house, and trance music are blended together courtesy of renowned DJs Chazz and Vaughan, who spin Friday and Saturday nights respectively. Velvet Lounge does have velvet ropes, naturally, but the elitism is kept to a tolerable minimum.

Screw Brian Setzer. To hell with Big Bad Voodoo Daddy. If those punks didn't have the fancy retro threads, they'd be lost causes. If you want to hear swing in all its original authentic majesty, try Oop Bop Sha Bam, which swings the house every Tuesday and Wednesday night at Mango's on Las Olas Boulevard in Fort Lauderdale. Led by its fearless leader, singer-guitarist Jeff Taylor, Oop Bop is one of the few survivors in swing's once-crowded corner. In fact, if the retro trend collapses on itself the way it appears destined to do (with zoot suits, cigars, and martini glasses close behind), this will be the final year for this category. To the band's credit, every cat in this sextet -- Taylor, his keyboardist brother Bob, drummer Brian Smith, saxophonist John Michalak, trumpet-and-flügelhorn whiz John Lovell, and bassist Rick Doll -- is an accomplished jazz musician. Each knows the difference between the real deal and most of the soulless crap that generally passes for swing today. Long before swing made its inevitable transition from cool to khaki commercials, these guys were on the right track. Catch them before the entire movement dissipates for good.

Screw Brian Setzer. To hell with Big Bad Voodoo Daddy. If those punks didn't have the fancy retro threads, they'd be lost causes. If you want to hear swing in all its original authentic majesty, try Oop Bop Sha Bam, which swings the house every Tuesday and Wednesday night at Mango's on Las Olas Boulevard in Fort Lauderdale. Led by its fearless leader, singer-guitarist Jeff Taylor, Oop Bop is one of the few survivors in swing's once-crowded corner. In fact, if the retro trend collapses on itself the way it appears destined to do (with zoot suits, cigars, and martini glasses close behind), this will be the final year for this category. To the band's credit, every cat in this sextet -- Taylor, his keyboardist brother Bob, drummer Brian Smith, saxophonist John Michalak, trumpet-and-flügelhorn whiz John Lovell, and bassist Rick Doll -- is an accomplished jazz musician. Each knows the difference between the real deal and most of the soulless crap that generally passes for swing today. Long before swing made its inevitable transition from cool to khaki commercials, these guys were on the right track. Catch them before the entire movement dissipates for good.