Warning: Prohibition is a classy establishment. Be prepared to feel awkward in nothing less than your smart-casual best, and certainly do not show up in jeans and a T-shirt (as we did, unfortunately). You'll just feel even more out of place than you already do as a Rice kid who's ventured far enough beyond the hedges to end up at the new bar next to Saks Fifth Avenue. After the bouncer miraculously let us in, despite our uncouth garb, we found ourselves in the midst of some weird fusion between 2011 and 1922: a piano playing 1920s-style covers of new music, bartenders dressed in suspenders and hats, and a crowd of people who were doubtlessly as confused as we were but doing a better job of not showing it. We shuffled in as inconspicuously as possible and slid into one of the tables not reserved for people getting bottle service. (For future reference, all the tables are generally reserved for parties getting bottle service, but our waitress took pity on us and was really nice about the whole affair; she even moved us to a larger table once our party grew.) That said, once we sat down and got over the fact that we were pathetically underdressed for the place, Prohibition became quite a delightful experience.