As the music of Equinox plays in the background, a woman wearing a bridal veil and a black leather catsuit grabs the metal bars surrounding her in a raised platform known as The Cage.

It's just another Saturday night at the Man-Ray club located in Central Square.

The club hosts a 19+ night known as "Liquid" every Saturday.

Attitude abounds and the out-of-the-ordinary is ordinary at Liquid.

One room in the club blasts 1980s music, while "camp classic disco" fills another of the club's rooms.

"I come here almost every weekend," says Celia G. Thomas, examining one of her lace-gloved hands. "Great music, great dancing."

The club's decor is as bizarre as the clothing worn by its patrons.

A large picture of Mary Poppins, the magical nanny of film fame, is tacked up behind the bar and lends the club an upbeat atmosphere.

But paradoxically, a wreath of thorny antlers, and small stuffed birds, black of course, surrounds the smiling housekeeper.

Underneath the eerie picture, a bartender moves quickly and forcefully.

The bartender's canine teeth are quite sharp, and her black "Roadkill Cafe" t-shirt and several facial piercings do nothing to soften the first impression.

"Who the hell is next?" she asks, while violently shaking a vodka sour.

"Someone, anyone? Can we move it along here?" the bartender barks.

The next customer tentatively moves forward and orders a Cape Codder.

The bartender rolls her eyes. "I better get a big tip for this one, blondie," she says, both hands already grabbing bottles.