Dirty Dancing has something of a reputation of being at the wild end of the spectrum of the Moscow club scene; not quite so infamous as the Duck, perhaps, but still with something of a name of its own. The club is renowned for its high energy, enthusiastic audience and, well, just plain "not a place I'd take my mom to" near-debauchery.

Recognizable from the outside by a neon sign representing a woman who is (surprise!) dancing, Dirty Dancing actually contains two levels. The ground floor is a pool hall featuring both Russian billiards and American pool (with very hefty fines for damaging the tables, so watch out with those cues). A turn to the left and a quick climb up a flight of stairs past the cloak-check room and you will find yourself in the discotheque – after, of course, having shelled out the not-inconsiderable cover charge of 300 rubles.

Dirty Dancing is not a big place. Actually, it's very much on the small side, and could be described as either "cramped" or "cozy," depending on your preferences. It is Central and South America-themed, though, for some reason or other, it is decorated with black-and-white photographs of American and other celebrities lining its walls. In general, it is nicely laid out with comfortable decor – including some very comfortable-looking sofas – and nice atmospheric lighting, which would be romantic in another sort of venue.

The club opens late – at 11 p.m. – and fills up fast. Given the small size of the establishment, this means that the attendees quickly get divvied up into two distinct groups; those crammed together bumping into each other on the dance floor and those crammed together bumping into each other standing or sitting around the dance floor. And, true to the club's billing, all this sardine-in-a-can-like cramming and bumping takes place to the pulsing sounds of Latin American or Latin American-inspired dance music. (Just to avoid confusion, by "Latin American-inspired" I most emphatically do not mean to raise the specter of the dread Ricky Martin to any horrified readers who might be scared away from ever visiting the club; at Dirty Dancing, you will find actual Latin American music sung in – perish the thought! – Spanish and Portuguese.)

And the club's reputation for sensual excess and/or exhibitionism is more than a little well-deserved. One thing noticeable about the clubgoers in evidence the evening I was there, in addition to the general high-fashion quality of their attire, was, well, a notable lack of that attire. Put it up to the club's reputation, or to the supposedly aphrodisiacal effects of Demon Salsa, but, given the quantity of clothing discarded – and the cramped nature of the dance floor – Dirty Dancing was rapidly transformed into a veritable frotteur's paradise. Indeed, the apparent inability of some of the club's clientele to keep their clothes on is so central to the club's image that the establishment itself widely touts this as a main drawing point.

Beyond the aforementioned high cover charge, prices are actually pretty standard, or even at the low end, given the atmosphere and the apparent socioeconomic pretensions of the clientele; with beer (Baltika, that is) starting at 40 rubles for 0.33 liters and going up to 60 rubles for half a liter. Other prices are scaled accordingly.

Not a place I'd take a significant other to, but not without its charms either – especially in the wee hours of the a.m. after the fifth, sixth or seventh vodka.

DIRTY DANCING
31 Gruzinsky Val
Metro: Pushkinskaya
Tel: 250-0482
Hours: Fri., Sat. 11 p.m. to 6 a.m.