High in its loft in Chinatown, thirtyninehotel set a precedent in Honolulu with its West Coast-style outdoor bar attached to a sleek, spare room whose floors are made for dancing and whose walls are made for hipster art. Now, it's begun to branch out a bit, making itself available for that brand of Saturday night party that includes Kanye West on the stereo.

GARDEN BAR

Where: thirtyninehotel, 39 N. Hotel St.

When: 9 p.m.-2 a.m. Saturdays

Getting in: Free, 21 and older

Learn More: www.thirtyninehotel.com

Is this the thirtyninehotel I fell in love with?

Yes and no. And don't let the night's title fool you. The term "Garden Bar" brings to mind images of tranquil gatherings around umbrella-sheltered tables with perfectly relaxed folks sipping perfectly adult cocktails. The music is mellow and sophisticated — enlightened conversation is the real aural stimulus.

That's not what it's like here. At least not on Saturdays. If you like the adult thirtyninehotel, you might be disappointed by Garden Bar. It is markedly clubbier than it is on other nights. There's even booty dancing.

"What?!" say all the anti-clubbers in the city who found refuge at 39. Indeed. But find solace in the fact that the garden stays fairly unaffected by the activity on the dance floor. Out there, it's still your favorite thirtyninehotel.

XX marks the spot: Funny thing about Garden Bar: the crowd is at least 80 percent female. They're everywhere. But with a name like Garden Bar, who's really surprised?

The other funny thing? The music: It started off fine (hey, there's nothing wrong with Human League!) and then dissolved into a barrage of bad top-40 hits. On the bright side, there's apparently no better way to dissolve the long line to the women's restroom than by playing "Fergalicious." It sends them running to the dance floor like children to a sandbox.

People watching: Judge for yourself whether Garden Bar can satisfy your inner voyeur. This is what we saw:

1. An enthusiastic gentleman who split his time between the dance floor and the patio, where he would promptly unbutton his white linen shirt, his naked tan skin being cooled by the night air while he peered suspiciously around.

2. A couple of guys awkwardly consoling a weeping girl.

3. A guy doing what some might call fancy footwork circa Michael Jackson's "Beat It," alone and very much in the way of impatient drinkers waiting for their turn at the bar. But does he care? Uh-uh! That's how he rolls, baby!

4. Did that guy bring a chaise lounge or is he just really wasted, lying down on one of the bar's benches with his head propped against the wall and his cigarette hanging from his lips? Way to make yourself at home, man.

5. A woman wearing a tiara that read "Bachelorette." We'll give her the benefit of the doubt and assume she really was one.

Dress code: There isn't one, and there never is, which is why thirtyninehotel, even on the nights when it seems less like itself, is one of this city's best nightspots. It shuns image consciousness and replaces it with ... nothing. And there's nothing more appealing than that.