Night Moves

Breaking the ice at Zero Degrees ... slowly

Austin doesn't really produce seasons, just fronts, mostly hot. But for a relatively brief period, while most of the country experiences actual winter, Austinites enjoy a relatively persuasive cold front.

Just before Halloween, I thought that cold-front season had officially kicked off. But, of course, Austin warmed back up just in time for skimpy costumes, and, since then, we've felt the edge of another front. So I thought it a bit ironic when Sally and I found ourselves in Zero Degrees during the gap between cold fronts. For those of you who don't know the club roster from A to Z, Zero Degrees is a small dance club connected to the Lava Lounge on East Seventh Street. (Connect the dots to arrive at the owners' titular joke.)

Zero was relatively crowded when Sally and I arrived. The club seemed to be populated with a large party of students, possibly from out of town, as most of them had that virginal, wide-eyed look you wear your first couple of times around the downtown block. There were other "outsider" couples as well, and Sally and I had no trouble slipping in, but still, as we were sipping our drinks, I couldn't shake the feeling we were crashing a party.

Aubrey Edwards for AA-S A drink or a dance at the minimalist Zero Degrees can take the chill off a winter walk through downtown. Zero Degrees. 405 E. Seventh St. 474-5514.

In addition to the dance floor and bar, one finds a small lounge area composed of a few low-rider sofas in front of a large, black garage door, which separated the club from what sounded like a punk band playing on the other side. The club's lone bar was staffed by two very striking women, one of whom was a recent Texas State University grad named Kassidy, whose warm smile and, more importantly, quick service melted any frozen feelings. In the fast-paced club scene, where overworked bartenders constantly struggle to please everyone, it's refreshing to receive service with a smile.

Sally and I decided to warm things up by hitting the dance floor. Under the bright glitter cast by the overhead mirror ball, we moved in unison to the DJ's pop music remix medleys. The dance floor was quite crowded by this point, and Sally and I were pressed closer and closer together — it seemed dance floor space had become Zero's new hot commodity.

At Sally's request, we surrendered our space and took a seat on one of the sofas. The cold-shoulder party group had vacated the premises, and the surrounding sofas were now occupied with friendlier people.

With the exception of the party people, Zero's crowd appeared to be formed by folks in their 20s dressed in casual or dressy casual, which is really just casual with a collared shirt or more accessories. It's what my godmother would refer to as a "dark jean" dress code. I never really appreciated that train of thought, but it has to do with the fact that dark jeans are on par with slacks, a level above light jeans. In case you're wondering, both Sally and I were wearing dark jeans.

Even though Zero Degrees was occupied early on by a few "too cool for you" patrons, things warmed up as the night progressed. My feelings of being outnumbered dwindled as the crowd grew, and it became very clear that, despite a few cold shoulders, there was plenty of room for everyone at Zero Degrees — except for maybe on the dance floor.