The nineties were a true decade of boom and bust for Sheffield's evening economy.
It was the granting of a licence for the groundbreaking Republic venue - after earlier refusals - that opened the floodgates to scores of new clubs and bars.
Suddenly, every empty building in the city centre was being eyed up as a potential nightspot - former banks, fitness suites, cinemas, engineering works; there was hardly a structure in Sheffield that wasn't considered fair game.
And it didn't stop there; a glut of new nightspots even opened in the East End in a bid to provide nightlife's answer to Meadowhall.
It was all a far cry from earlier in the decade when a report highlighted the sorry state of things in Sheffield; thousands of the city's young people shunning local venues every weekend and opting for the bright lights of rival cities like Manchester, Leeds and Nottingham.
But within a couple of years Steel City had totally turned the tables and become regarded as one of the top party venues in the UK; Sheffield was synonymous with the dance generation for groundbreaking nights such as Gatecrasher, Love to be..., Rise and others.
But it wasn't just the house nights that were putting the city on the national map.
Home-grown music was arguably at its most buoyant since Sheffield's chart dominance in the early 1980s as the likes of Pulp, the Longpigs, Olive, All Seeing Eye, Babybird, Moloko and others made their mark.
But no amount of hit records, hit venues or any other party-related shenanigans could quite prepare the city for its unexpected, full frontal appearance in one of the most successful comedies of all time, The Full Monty.