I went to Swimclub32 more times than I liked to admit, since the dark den in the heart of Highland was haunted by a crowd more common to the depths of LoDo. My friends and I were fascinated by the hordes of men bathed in Acqua di Gio, the women tottering on impossible stilettos who were more interested in looking at the food than eating it, the tables covered with a fine film of residual blow, the hip lack of signage. In this rapidly gentrifying part of town, filling up with families and thirty-something urbanites, the concept was just douchebaggy enough to make Swimclub seem like... More >>>