There's a fine line to be walked between tackiness that can be fun and tackiness that's just plain cheap. You'd think that Polly Esther's, with a name like that and sister clubs across the nation, would have tacky nailed down - in a good way.
Not so. Unfortunately for five fearless fun-seekers, a Friday evening at Polly's turned out to be like a time warp... gone bad.
It's not for lack of trying or know-how that Polly's fails to fit the bill. They've done everything right. Polly's has four floors of entertainment, featuring three different decade-themed dance floors appropriately decorated and pumping with just the right dated beats. They have relatively cheap drinks, dim lighting for the shy dancer, ample floor space, and a friendly bar staff which will let you dance on the bar if you're a girl and you ask nicely. No, the problem isn't with the bar itself, it's with the crowd it attracts, and that can be just as important (if not more so!) than anything the management could have planned for.
Located by North Station and across town from Landsdowne, Polly's doesn't see any of the Euro crowd which frequents Karma or Modern. While it can be good to escape the typical club scene and club crowd, Polly's isn't the place in which to do it. Rather, it's a bizarre and, quite frankly, discomforting mix of sketchballs and young middle management that find their way to Friend Street. The average age is probably 28, and interestingly enough it's the women who bring up that average. Decked out in cheap, tight pants and barely-there shiny tanks, they stare down the younger girls and aggressively compete for the attention of their "men." As if there was any competition - we don't want your men, you can keep them!
One woman even went so far as to climb up on the bar with two of us young'uns who had been encouraged up there by a friendly bartender. She shook her bon bon like a pro for the crowd of men who had gathered to watch us amateurs giggle and blush. Turning to face her, as if to make friends despite the unusual situation, I saw her give me a very hairy eyeball and shake her hips just a little harder than before. Give it up, lady - this isn't Spring Break and the crowd of men gathering to watch us isn't exactly the cream of the crop! Looking out over the crowd of faces, I saw one rather drunk and lonely-looking fellow mouth, "Take off your shirt!" Hmm... that's our cue to get down, I'd say, and return to the safety of our tight circle of friends.
Back to the dance floor for some feet-grounding retro moves. We're too young to remember the Hustle, but if you've seen Saturday Night Fever you'll fit right in on the first floor. Complete with a HUGE mirrored disco ball and an equally large blowup of Farrah Fawcett, the dance floor would be just like the movie if it weren't for the yucky crowd. Spotlights from the ceiling even illuminate the floor in colored checkerboard patterns like John Travolta's dance floor. The second floor consists of a balcony from which you can leer at the wallflowers on the '70s floor. This is the most practical floor, housing two small bars, a coat check, and couple after couple after couple... Apparently, though I didn't see it, it's written somewhere that that's where you go to hook up with your equally sketchy dance partner. Consider yourself warned.
Remember Milli Vanilli or the Culture Club? Break out your dusty old dance moves from middle school and test them out again on the third floor. Here, the music will remind you of a bad eighth grade dance...perhaps that explains why most of the people on the floor are standing facing the dance space like there's a live band to watch. Quite the contrary - there's nothing much to look at. Guys dance in groups, a girl or two will walk by and dance with one of them for a while, maybe she'll go into a corner with the guy, maybe she'll move on.
Up the hazard-themed stairs (as in road hazard, not, unfortunately, Dukes of Hazzard), the fourth floor is home to the '90s and is arguably the most down-to-earth floor. Of course, the '80s floor is the most crowded, but by whom? On the '90s floor, at least there's actually room to dance, empty stools for cool-down breaks and... techno. Yes, kids, there was techno before the popularization of E and the subsequent rise of House music, and you were there to witness its birth. Whether or not you want to celebrate that fact is up to you, but Polly's gives you the option. If nothing else, the '90s floor is a nice escape from the feeding frenzy atmosphere of the '80s floor.
Of course, in a club where decade-appropriate attire is encouraged, there can be no dress code. And where there is no dress code there is no cover, right? Wrong. Compare the $10 weekend cover at Polly's to the $15 cover of a "real" club and you'll realize that you're not paying for quality. You're paying for retro. You're paying for painted plywood walls and dirty bathrooms. You're paying for a kitschy theme club, mixed drinks like the "Sonny," the "Cher," and the "Ronald Reagan," and you're paying for the mass-produced nostalgia that comes with a chain of Polly Esther's across America the Beautiful.
The biggest issue with Polly's, however, doesn't have anything to do with the gross crowd or the expected paraphernalia. I ask you, dear reader, to ponder what it means when the '90s - the decade of our true conscious awakening - is included under the title "Retro." How can we be getting old already - we only recently turned legal!
