ON A RECENT Saturday night, Laney, Shutterbug and I dressed up and caught a night at Fever. It's located on the seedy end of Cheshire Bridge Road, but that was no deterrent to the scantily clad women and their gentleman callers waiting upwards of 30 minutes to walk into the faux Greek temple cum nightclub.

SCENE: As the clock ticked toward 11 p.m., the crowd kept streaming steadily through the doors after waiting outside for almost half an hour. Patrons' makeup leaned toward WASP-y fashion plates, but was sprinkled with the occasional rocker wannabe. To the untrained eye, most of the women could have stepped off the pages of Cosmopolitan magazine, but these girls' clothes were one size too small and their cute cleavage-baring tops came straight from the full-price rack at Target. Shutterbug, a photographer colleague, chatted with Aaron, who was dressed in wraparound D&G sunglasses, a tie-dyed band T-shirt, terry cloth armbands (one embroidered with the word "Stupid") and enough mousse for all six of his posse. Laney, another colleague and co-writer of AJC dating blog "Misadventures in Atlanta," commented on the number of untucked Polos. I loved the look of the guy with the cocoa complexion and the retro ruffled tuxedo shirt.

ELISSA EUBANKS/Staff (ENLARGE)
Justin Faltot and Aimee Hopper decide to forgo the dance floor and chill out and chat it up at Fever, on Cheshire Bridge Road.
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HANG SPACE: Each room is radically different. One is sleek white and space-age, right off the set of Michael and Janet Jackson's "Scream" video. The side room is dark red and bordello-esque, complete with beds and a stripper pole. Another used dark wood and looks like what a fraternity house might consider a "study." The dance floor upstairs is ringed with mirrors. Walking through the entrance to the downstairs area, my first thought was "couple skate." The dance floor is sunken, concrete and round with a disco ball hanging from the ceiling. There are great secret nooks to cuddle into and plenty of room to move. But watch out for the mirrors — which are all over the place — because most of them are distorted. Think fun house, but less fun, more house.

TUNES: Until the dance floors started kicking, the music was groovy, trance-y and forgettable. Around 11 p.m., the DJ upstairs put on '80s dance tunes and kicked the beats up a notch. Downstairs, it was "oonz, oonz," all the way. The words didn't matter, but the beats were heavy.

FINAL WORD: Fever is for the Buckhead refugees. The crowd is friendly and enthusiastic. Clubgoers are smiling and not afraid to hit the dance floor. Forgive the choking patchouli in the bathrooms and cologne in the stairways. Get dressed, get boozy and get dancing.

• THE 411: $15 (check Web site for discounts); nearby parking $7-$20, valet $15. 10 p.m.-2:45 a.m. Thurs.-Sat. 1789 Cheshire Bridge Road, Atlanta. 404-214-0151, www.feveratl.com.

— Elizabeth Cobb