The new club era has brought with it the new door policy. As clubland becomes ever more specialized, the carrot behind the mean door is more desperately sought. Clubs have become clubhouses and if the clan or clique that you need to be part of has moved to a new hot spot then being allowed in or included becomes an obsession. When Marquee reduced its party mix to its essentials you got Avenue, and most of the people still going to Marquee got left out. Decisions at the door of Avenue became less frequent as most guests were either invited or had made pre-arrangements, which were approved at the bottle host, management or owner level. Still beauty, celebrity and the very familiar or valued were whisked inside. Boom Boom Room took it to another level with pre-arrangements becoming almost a necessity. Provocateur seems to be taking that up a notch maybe just to be provocative.

When I was there last week interviewing the powers to be, I was told that everyone had to call in advance. I confronted the door staffer in front of co-owner Michael Satsky and asked if she would really turn me away. She weakly said, “Depending on who you were with" looking at Michael for the right answer. He said, "No, tell him what he has to do." I asked, "You really have the balls to turn me away or will you sneak me a card and tell me to call from the corner or something like that?" Michael told her to give me her card. I got that card somewhere, maybe. Probably in that place filled with one sock, a glove or an ex girlfriend’s clothes.

Mr. Satsky wants me to call him personally when attending and I will. I bring this up because I got calls over the weekend from A-listers left out in the cold. This isn’t embarrassing to them as much as to Provocateur. They and many others should get in anywhere. It's like an old joke my dad once told me:

A guy walks into a bar and sits next to a pretty young thing... Guy: Miss, may I ask you a question? Miss: Sure, go ahead. G: Would you sleep with me for a million dollars? M: Well for a million dollars I probably would. G: Would you sleep with me for a hundred dollars? M: What kind of girl do you think I am? G: Well, Miss, we already established that we're just negotiating price.

The meaning of the joke is applicable here. Is Provocateur going to turn away Barack Obama if he shows up without a pre-call? How about Muhammad Ali? Mayor Mike? Or Brad and Angelina? Andre Balazs? Noah Tepperberg? Jay Z? I can't believe it and if so it’s just stupid. A schlub like me maybe should call in advance at Boom Boom or Provocateur but not the crew above and many more. Do Leonardo Dicaprio or Mark Wahlberg call? See, we're just negotiating a limit or line here. Turning away good people to make a statement seems more harmful than having a real door person who can make intelligent decisions. It's a must and I question Provocateur’s policy.

The blizzard made strange bedfellows, literally, as my convenient Nolita apartment became a crash pad for bar staff and an annoying art dealer stranded in the city. I dug up the aero mattress and Jack Daniels and threw a party. Amongst the revelers was Connor Hanwick the drummer of the Drums, which is being described as one of the coolest New York bands. I caught them at the Paper awards ceremony. I noticed that the emcees, presenters and winners were not whining and screeching through the mic for a moment and that a band was on stage. A good one. The drums captivated me. Webster Hell’s Kaelin Ballinger saw me watching the act and came over to chat. He knows me well and how hard it is for bands to impress me. The Drums were busy impressing everyone and I suspect that we are seeing the birth of a national act.

Back at the blizzard party, coat check girls and waitresses called and came over and told of packed houses in the hotel bars as stranded tourists and New Yorkers huddled around high end hooch and hooked up. Many places closed as staff couldn’t get in and crowds were not anticipated. Smart promoter types waged facebook/twitter wars trying to lure whoever was out to their lairs. I got what I think was a mass text that read "snow ho in soho will provide ho ho ho.” Now that's entertainment.

The blizzard got me and everyone else seeking human contact to see James Cameron's Avatar. I went with my ex (no, not that ex, the other one, the smart one). I loved Avatar for about an hour but then wanted to slit my wrists. What started out as the filet mignon of all sci fi, special effects flicks, soon digressed into being nothing more than blue corn tortilla chips. Not quite satisfying for a real deal meal. Like the vacuous model types I used to date, it is beautiful but as soon as it opens its mouth you understand its limitations. It fills you with awe with its awesome visuals, but everything else about the film is just plain awful. The acting, plot and music are horrible, but the script is merely comical. It’s Dances with Wolves meets Lord of The Rings without anybody to relate to. There isn’t a real human in the entire movie, no offense to the blue folk.

Cameron is just plain plodding, obvious and arrogant about anything other than selling his political agenda and displaying his considerable visual prowess. I sat there hoping for insane things to happen, a blue ray of hope. Something fun and off the soon predictable path. Like Celine Dion singing, "Near far, wherever you Avatar" or the Blueman Group making a cameo and blowing up a warship or something as annoying. As annoying as blue balls, Sigourney Weaver is so lost in space in this film, basically being reincarnated as a lesser version of her previous James Cameron part, Ripley, and wiping out those horrible greedy, planet destroying humans. Just one, "Funny you don't look bluish" side crack would have made it bearable. Alas the only real question was whether to return the 3D glasses to the theater or wear them as a fashion trend.

Speaking of blue bloods, the street is abuzz about the collaboration of Nur Kahn and Paul Sevigny at the 98 Kenmare street space. I talked about this a week ago. Paul called me over the weekend. He's very excited. I told him to wish his sister Chloe a merry Christmas and congratulate her about her golden globe nomination for Big Love. I'll talk to Paul after Christmas and bring you closer but for now I’m content just knowing that somewhere out there people are trying to answer all the questions nightlife seems to always ask or beg for. There is a lot going on around town but we sure need this restaurant to open. The scene is looking at this place like it’s an Avatar, a deity coming from heaven to show us the way. This version will have great actors. Real intelligent conversation, great music and no need for special effects. Maybe just some specialty cocktails.