It's Golden Week, 1991, and a line of hundreds of party-goers snakes its way along a rain-drenched street in a Tokyo bayside district toward the entrance of one of Japan's biggest postwar nightlife sensations.

Among those braving the elements are men in turtleneck sweaters and baggy suits and their female fashion antitheses who are crammed into ultrashort, ultratight bodi-kon (a Japanese portmanteau of "body conscious") dresses, their long, wan-ren (one length) hair unable to disguise enough bling-bling to start a metal works.

Some have traveled the length and breadth of the country to pirouette their pin-heels on the raised platforms and dance floors of what is an already near-mythical institution: Juliana's Tokyo.