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Tuesday night, 10.30pm and the dancefloor at Wanhan Tanssikellari is packed. On stage, the house band, Laura Hihnala and Sesam, are keeping the crowd on their feet while, at the bar, a slick of middle-aged lotharios in open-necked shirts and hair grease are wiggling their hips in tune to the rhythm. Outside the blizzards of the bleak Finnish mid-winter may be howling a chilly symphony but, inside, the exotic beat of tango fills the room.

“I come every week just to dance and flirt. I love to dance close,” says 45-year-old Vuokko, dressed in a racy leopard-print top and a pair of high heels that would leave Naomi Campbell stumbling down the catwalk.

Vuokko works in a hospital and travels from her home in Vantaa, 15km from Helsinki, just to join each Tuesday’s tango session. “My husband is at home,” she laughs, casting an eye across to bar-hugging potential dance partners. “He doesn’t like to dance.”

Tango has provided Finland's national soundtrack since the 1917 declaration of Finnish independence. Even today both old and young know how to tango, while huge outdoor music festivals are a mainstay of the short but hedonistic Finnish summer. The biggest event of all, Tangomarkkinat (www.tangomarkkinat.fi), has been held in the country town of Seinäjoki (www.seinajoki.fi) since 1985 and now attracts 100,000 visitors annually; the next festival runs July 6 to 10, 2005.

In winter, however, tango goes behind closed doors with a slew of dance schools and private parties, where Finnish tango fans find perfecting their footwork brings a much-needed dash of colour to the drab winter months.

“Our popular culture is very melancholy. The paradox of tango -- the feeling of longing for someone while dancing very close – appeals strongly to Finns,” explains Maarit Niiniluoto, a radio presenter and leading Finnish tango historian. “For Finns, tango is a three-minute dream with your eyes open – it’s poetic and deeply symbolic.”

Tango was born around the turn of the century in the suburbs of Buenos Aires and visiting Argentinean musicians brought its dramatic vignettes of Latin life to Europe in the aftermath of the First World War. By the time tango fever had gripped Paris in the 1930’s, Argentine tango had developed into a syncopated form of music incorporating influences from early jazz and blues.

In Finland, however, where dancing in restaurants was banned during the Second World War, it was only after restrictions were relaxed in 1948 that the local tango scene could flourish.

The Finns also added their typically dour sense of gloom to the craze, tempering the Argentinean ardor with a dash of minor-key Finnish melancholy. Lumihiutaleita (Snowflakes), composed by M. Maja in 1936, was one of the first break-through tango hits to introduce icy Nordic imagery to the sultry tango.

“Melancholy is beautiful to the Finnish soul. The sadder the tango, the more Finnish people love it,” says Maarit Niiniluoto. “Finns are not very verbal, nor prone to easy communication. Tango expresses the distance they feel in their daily lives.”

Back at the restaurant, the Latin spirit - not to mention the vodka -- is flowing freely. After tripping the light fantastic with a frisky Vuokko, I head backstage to find lead singer Laura Hihnala basking in the post-gig glow of a rapturous ovation and besieged by autograph hunters.

“When I sing, I feel the pain of tango. Finns reach out via this music - it’s like musical therapy for them,” says the 23-year-old singer, crowned Seinäjoki’s tango festival princess 2003.

“I want to take Finnish tango to the world,” she smiles, a gently elegiac smile. “To share our pain.

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