For singles on the hunt, the hottest nightspot in LA isn't Area or LAX or Privilege. This primal prowl (pronounced Tar-JHAY) is the place to aim quivering Cupid's arrows.

The cute blonde girl in True Religions. The hot bespiked gay guy in Diesels. The stubbly Euro in artfully shredded Energie. All are buffed, toned, teased and tucked into just the right designer denim—butt-conscious but not too of-the-moment pretentious—for an LA night of preening, scoping and price comparisons. Yes, Target has become a defacto hookup joint worthy of a review in LA.com's nightlife section. Like Basque, its walls contain impossibly beautiful models. Like Mood, the space is packed tightly with cruising prospects. Like LAX, the decor gleams with kitschy accents. And like Privilege, new possibilities around every tantalizing corner keep everyone in constant neck-craning motion. (When it all becomes too head-spinning, the central courtyard patio offers a breezy respite.) The only difference at this exotic red-and-white playpen, seemingly cracked from the mind of Jack White, is that amid the frenzy of flirtatious glances and studious poses, the blonde girl is buying dishrags, the gay guy is bending over for some protein powder and the stubbly Euro is comparing pomades. —Lonny Pugh