t a time when lounges and mid-sized clubs are being opened and closed more frequently than the wallets of their patrons, an establishment truly needs to be a standout to survive. Seven indeed stands out from its peers; many of its standouts, however, also serve as its problems. Seven seems to make strides to set itself apart in many areas of both its style and operation. It does so by inadequately blending several techniques used by clubs in the past. Don't get me wrong, Seven isn't a failure by any means, but it fails to live up to its own hype.

Seven’s design scheme is a conceptual step into the future. This place feels like 2001: A Space Odyssey, but with high-tech fabrics and more legroom. Spectacularly assembled by Toronto’s ll X lV, everything is bright and modular, with round safety edges. There are bright, modular chairs, a floating glass staircase, lacquered floors, wrapped in yet another red-tinted layout.

Spanning two floors, the dance floor has a 30' ceiling. The main level illuminated bar bar is oversize, with a conversation-inducing communal banquettes here and there. Unfortunately, the crowd isn’t quite as cool as the furniture -- a perplexing problem the design world has yet to solve.

Seven (the name is from the notion of the seven sins) is part of the Dynamic Group, and appears to have been targeted at absolutely everyone with ten bucks in their pocket. Wildly erratic, the Seven crowd is sometimes wild and beautiful, sometimes depressingly average, sometimes pumping and packed, sometimes half-full and sad.