Wearing Their Welcome

The sign above the door reads: "Strict dress code enforced." Underneath it, a slight doorman in a dark green suit patrols his fiefdom, the sidewalk outside Deep. He carries a clipboard but doesn't consult it as he plucks a select few from the line and lets them through the tightest door in Hollywood. At his side are two beefy men in leather jackets, who ensure that no one touches the velvet rope.

With a growing line of 40 impatient people, the muscle seems prudent. Standing at the front are three guys in black slacks and shirts who have spent the better part of their Saturday night--nearly two hours--waiting. The three, who have driven 90 or so miles from Temecula, eventually give up. Pointing to his shirt, one guy exclaims: "I've got flames on my sleeves--that's the reason we're not getting in."

Los Angeles may be the capital of casual couture during the day, but at night it's quite another world--a land where merciless doormen enforce a system of dress codes as loosely organized and confusing as the city itself. The suit and tie that let you breeze past a doorman in Beverly Hills may only get you a disapproving stare outside a club in Hollywood. The nightlife dress code, this sartorial fatwa, is as hard to negotiate as a left turn across Pacific Coast Highway in July.

Although some clubs advertise formal dress codes, the real rules are unspoken and nebulous. A given: Show skin, or hold one of the three universal trump cards--striking good looks, disposable cash or recognizable celebrity--and you won't have a problem. Possessing none of these, prepare for, in quick succession, adrenaline, anxiety followed by possible disapproval, and mortification.

Rejection is always personal, and served up by a neckless guy in a cheap Italian suit.

Ivan Kane, for one, is unapologetic about inflicting a style standard on those who want to get into his clubs, Deep and the newly opened Forty Deuce. To perpetuate the nightlife fantasy--a sexy escape from the mundane 9-to-5 world--a club has to have the right mix of beauty, skin and fame.

Fashion is just one ingredient--albeit an important one--in that mix. But for those who don't pore over the latest issue of In Style, the rules can seem arbitrary. And, in fact, they are. Kane's dress code officially bars jeans, sandals, flip-flops, hats and T-shirts. But then comes the inevitable caveat: "If you get a girl who's wearing a pair of Frankie B. jeans cut low, we're going to let her in. If George Clooney shows up in a tank top, we're all good," Kane says. "The doorman's job is critical. You want a discerning person.... It's all about the eye. You have got to have a guy who knows who David Geffen is." (As if on cue, Andy Garcia, in matching dark pants and shirt, walks by. Kane nods in recognition and approval and, later, peels off to hug Deep's celebrity of the night.)