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When a hot spot leaves its perch in the Meatpacking District for bigger and better things, there’s just one place to go: West 27th Street, where the Pink Elephant now resides. Not surprisingly, the crowd remains the same: Skinny young things in heels and designer jeans and the deep-pocketed lotharios who seduce them with bottles of $7,500 Cristal. The space accommodates 360, with lights that descend and steam that belches from the relatively low ceiling. However it retains its coziness thanks to crystal chandeliers, plants sprouting from behind the wavy wooden panels that are attached to the brick walls, and lounge seating that noodles its way around the room, creating nooks that feel private while allowing for gawking. From the small sunken dancefloor, one is eye-level with the booties shaking on the upper tier and arm’s length away from the D.J., who on any given night will be spinning deep house and on a good night might just be Pete Tong or Paul Oakenfold. — Daniel Maurer

Wed.–Sat., $25

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