Mounted sailfish were soaring up the walls of the Oceanaire in schools of lacquered blue splendor. An old Andrews Sisters tune boogie-woogied down from the mezzanine above, filling the snazzy deco dining room with a little retro shimmy.
And as a crew-cut waiter in white coat ignited the neighboring table's Baked Alaska in a pouf of dripping blue flame - "Don't be afraid!" he said, with practiced theatricality - I could almost imagine the grand old cruise ship moving.
There is no ocean, of course, beneath the Oceanaire, the Minneapolis-based seafood chain that opened last fall off Washington Square. But the lofty space, cast from the bones of the historic PSFS building, is about as huge and comfy as a luxury liner, with seating for 350 in its red-leather booths and spacious, white-linen-draped tables. It also goes full speed ahead in the pursuit of old-time nostalgia, from the sleekly polished decor to a litany of kitschy details, like the relish tray laden with herring, celery and canned olives that might have been better left to that bygone era.