An unassuming tourist type at an unassuming football bar tells me this: "New York restaurants are crazy! There's a club in every basement!" I nod my head. He means RdV, the bass-thumping club below Bagatelle. "No," says the unassuming tourist, "We were in some East Village pizza restaurant or something!" Jesus, it can be tough keeping up with the NYC Jones. There seems to be tons of hidden gems that try to stay away from the people like me who can write about them, Twitter about them, Facebook about them, and ultimately ruin them. Some things are worth keeping a secret, but when the party is in the basement of Coffee Shop or some media lunch spot that regularly gets off on decent press, it's easy to broadcast. Some other things will remain a mystery, until I can fully understand if it's an actual basement party or simply a couple of bus boys getting high between shifts.

As the holidays near, it's fun to roll the dice on what former hotspot will have a revival, or what invitees may finally get a glimpse of the most exclusive space by way of special event invitation. This week alone the The Bowery Hotel had a major resurgence, proving it's a party player by hosting the annual Humane Society’s Cool vs. Cruel benefit, back-to-back with tonight's Art Rocks! event. Same with the six-thousand-foot "local hang'" -- The Ainsworth -- which was ground zero for Stylecaster's Short Films Premiere Party. Sienna and Savannah Miller hosted a dinner to celebrate their spring 2010 collection at the Royalton (not exactly the downtown scene we'd imagined for them). Party palaces also revive with extreme makeovers' the closed 105 Rivington space -- a splinter off of the Rivington Hotel -- is getting a redux. It will be called CV, and it had a little show-and-tell this past Tuesday. All in all, the holiday times bring a little nightlife cheer in the form of new beginnings at old places, reminding people how awesome some of our nighttime landmarks can be.

Every field of endeavor has its icons, and nightlife is no different. To be an icon in this world, one has to be successful and stay relevant. After all, you’re only as good as your last party. For every genuine icon, there are swarms of scenesters who occupy the pantheon in their own minds -- putting the “I” and “con” in the word. But it takes a certain amount of swagger to succeed in this business, so they should be forgiven. Besides, they are always the easiest people to shop for around Christmas: any mirror will do. Listed below are my six New York City club icons -- solo artists and teams -- and the up-and-comers with the potential to replace them, if only their predecessors would move to India (or somewhere even more remote, like Brooklyn).

Guys may come from Mars, and women from Venus, but Friday night dance parties are universal lingo. From glittering warehouses to stealth doors at intimate lounges, these slick floors ache for some unbridled dancing debauchery.

● Butter (NYC) - Friday night party Whipped is so fresh, most can't believe it's Butter. Resident hipster DJs Matt&Maia draw out big name fashion folks like Alexander Wang and the Ronsons and buddy up with special guest DJs like Interpol's Paul Banks. Mixed clientele harbor a serious need to put on their dancing Miu Mius.
● Cielo (NYC) - New York's dance addiction reigns supreme. Deep Space house heads maintain the sunken dance floor, which still attracts the pretty people looking to move something.

Jeter, A-Rod, CC Sabathia, and (hip hip) Jorge Posada celebrated at 1Oak last night. Here's video of Jeter and Sabathia poppin' bottles. You can too, if you win the World Series. So now you know who parties at 1Oak. The Yankees. That's me to the very left, making out with Kate Hudson. Kidding, A-Rod! She can have the Centaur. I spent last night blacking out at the Cherry Tavern. A home run for everybody. L'chayim! More video after the jump.

Once again, the landscape of nightlife is a'changing. Sometimes, you have to stir up the water to catch a few fish, which is exactly what happened to us. East Village Monday-night favorite Le Souk lost its liquor license, forcing patrons to take their business to Le Souk Harem, but it's the neighborhood that's the real loser. Wandering aimlessly in search of something new and good on Sunday night, we found a new party at White Slab Palace. Places we'd long since wrote off somehow hit the spot if not filled the void. An object lesson on wandering outside your comfort zone.

Being a partier used to be as simple as throwing on a clean tee and getting out the door. Now, it's work. The Jane was once our last great hope; it's now all but shuttered. Just when we feel we've found our new home, a place where -- if not everyone knows our name, at least they know our label -- it loses its license, lease, or cool. If we were lazy, we'd advise you to try the Boom Boom Room every single night of the week, but if on top of the world isn't really your scene, here's what's been moving and shaking amongst the movers and shakers this week. We'll be trying them out one by one, consumed with the determination to find our Beatrice Inn incarnate.

I caught up with 1Oak honcho Scott Sartiano and asked him if they were still suing some of his neighbors. A resounding "yes" led to a conversation which went beyond Andrea Peyser's New York Post article about the lawsuit. 1Oak is suing a tenant, Ann Fredlin, who lives on the 20th floor of the Caledonia, a new construction directly across from the boite. Two other people named, LeCee Johnson and Bobby Cintron, live in the Clinton housing building up the block near 10th Avenue. The $2 million lawsuit is a result, according to a source , of "continuing harassment and lies told to anyone who will listen." This sort of conflict was inevitable when the city rezoned the area to "mixed use" to support the highly ambitious, highly brilliant High Line project.

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He built his empire with the swagger he learned from the streets. And while the hustler turned hip-hop icon has had his professional triumphs (awards, parties, wealth beyond belief), he’s also had his share of personal catastrophe (murders, infidelities, heartbreak) as he’s kept up the near-impossible struggle to stay on top. After two decades in the game, Sean “Diddy” Combs—free of superstar posturing, bad-boy sunglasses and bombshell girlfriends—discusses Last Train to Paris, his most vulnerable and soulful album to date, and the wild ride that got him here alive.

From my humble point of view this has been a fantastic Fashion Week, and it's not over yet. The looming Marc Jacobs party is the talk of the town. It's a game of musical chairs with so many fabulous people getting a dose of humility as invites are seen as status. A longtime friend of Mr. Jacobs was lamenting on Facebook getting shut out this year. The gist was that Mr. Jacobs had abandoned the old for the new. Meanwhile, a well-known liquor marketing dude was hawking tickets online to last night's Kanye-mess-stricken VMA event for $2,500.