Step out of the lift and you enter a gorgeously sexy, dim-lit dimension of black, white, gold and au courant slate-grey French boiserie paneling. There’s a white staircase of huggable Gaudi curves spiraling up to the floor above, long couches with fabulous cushions beside beautiful table settings, while mute trumpets toot cool jazz from the sound system. The menu is cute and fun, with items like the “mushroom cigar” (a spring roll filled with 15 kinds of shrooms) and “squab on a tree,” which regrettably, did not come on a tree, but with a raspberry beetroot sauce that had a fruity kick. The seafood lasagna was sublime, with more Boston lobster and John Dory than pasta sheets (a good thing). Not all dishes were awe-inspiring, like the meh tuna and hamachi carpaccio, and too many items boasted a boring “black truffle” as a USP. It’s also quite expensive for the area, but you are paying for exquisite ambience (and a chic toilet with an electronic sliding door), and an unsuspected wealth of dazzling flavors and curious presentations. Unfortunately, service was still CWBish, with a fresh waitress who did not give us any water until we asked.