I really despise this place. I only went because I was invited so at least I didn't have to pay, and I suppose, if I'm to be completely honest, the food was good, if not spectacular, in a wannabe haute cuisine kind of way. But this restaurant-cum-nightspot isn't really about the food. In the midst of lower St. Laurent hell, it's a place "to be seen." I don't really get that but I guess it's a place to conspicuously display one's wealth and show off the fact that you have enough money to eat or drink or snort coke in the bathroom or whatever the hell else people do there. The ample fishbowl windows seems designed to allow the mixed Eurotrash crowd to gawk at their Ferraris parked on the street outside while middle-age balding business execs can show off the new implants they recently purchased for their young peroxide blonde trophy wives in miniskirts (if they don't, in fact, have to settle the tabs with them at the end of the evening). The overdesigned modernist retro kitsch recalls the set of a 1970s science fiction porno film (something out of 2069: A Sex Odyssey perhaps).