We went yesterday evening.
Gold flocked wallpaper, a bar in the corner with green lights around it, and various stabs at Art Deco which have probably left it bleeding and mortally wounded on the floor out back. When the couple at a nearby table started drinking Mateus Rose I half suspected they were making some kind of satirical statement about the 70s retro-decor.
The toilet is a trauma. I had to slam it a few times to shut it and then it had no lock. With both the door and the toilet paper dispenser on the same side there were times when it was necessary to leave myself exposed to some halfwit walking in on me while I was wiping my bum.
The restaurant is all hard surfaces, including the floor which has no carpet. So, there is a cacophony of voices so unpleasant that I couldn't hear Jen, who was sitting opposite me, for most of the meal. The answer to this is not to ratchet the jazz up even louder to compete with people's reverberating conversations.
The food was Ok, but the whole experience pissed me off way too much to want to go back.

