Today's title paraphrases the Thin White Duke as word comes from a strange source that Rebel nightclub may be changing hands. I was asked to be involved with the renovation, so it just might be true. If so it will mark the end of an error and quite possibly the beginning of a new one. As a rock mecca back in the day, the space had a mediocre run as Downtime. I went to a few goth nights there cause they're always great fun for 15 or 20 minutes. I might have caught a long-forgotten band fronted by one of my waitrons as well. Downtime/Rebel was/is located on a "seam" block smack dab in the middle of the city at 30th Street and 8th Avenue. Although not far from anything and real easy to get to, the location was just never sexy. It always felt like I was in Jersey -- or worse, Philadelphia.

Any trip down the memory lane of nightclubs must pass by the Mudd Club. It opened in October 1978 and was the best joint in town -- some say the best ever. When it closed in 1983, it had morphed from the chicest of places to a punk/hipster haven. Any visit to the Mudd, even as a memory, must go through a door manned by Richard Boch. Mudd was located below Canal at the end of an alley at 77 White Street. At the time it was unimaginable that people could live down there, as it was a domain of rats and bag people with frequent visits from the new culture of graffiti artists. The music was rock and roll, and the crowds were punks and rock stars and rock stars who were punks, plus an uptown crowd slumming for flesh or drugs. Movie stars came through with their apricot scarves and that rarest of commodities: cash. It was a time before we thought of AIDS, and only Betty Ford went to rehab. Orgies and drugs in tenement squats were a common end to an evening on the town. There were few designer labels, save for Trash & Vaudeville or Natasha or Levi’s. But everybody wanted to get into the Mudd Club.

OMG, OMG, OMG. OK, OK, OK, enough with the Xtravaganza Ball, some shall say. Well, maybe so -- but I was just sent these photos from the amazing photographer Kevin Tachman (check out his blog Backstage AT), and I just had to share them with you. This is more in the way of a rebuke rather than my usual attempt at enlightenment. If you didn't go, you missed something special, and the next ball must be on your to-do list or your ta-dah list. Look at these images and look at the faces in the crowd -- people were roaring in delight. I want my audience to roar with delight when they venture out, and I just don't see that very often from the same ol' same ol' nightspot offerings.

David Graziano and Corey Lane are becoming moguls. David is a fantastic hospitality/interior designer with home runs like Pink Elephant and the Kiss & Fly/Bagatelle/RdV complex to his credit. Corey comes from an operations background but is well grounded in promotion, especially when it comes to South American house fests. I don't know one person that doesn't like or respect them. In an industry which sometimes creates tensions, that's a mouthful. I caught up to them (and their new publicist Steve Kasuba) at their new restaurant, Ganesvoort 69, where the old Florent restaurant used to be. Florent was in the Meatpacking District when men were still packing meat while other men dressed as women were also packing meat. Late night, a scene of running mascara and sex workers of every persuasion had a bite after a long night. For club operators and staff, it was one of the few places always open where you could get an intelligent late-night meal. It was an after-hours club affair or someplace to fuel up before taking the party to the late afternoon at one of the great house meccas. They kept a lot of the charm and some of the fixtures as Ganesvoort 69 pays its respect to its vaunted past.

Last week I dwelt on last Saturday's Xtravaganza Ball at Irving Plaza; the Xtravaganzas honored me by making me a judge. Of all the loot I made, celebrities I've met, and openings and redoings -- all the things I have done or accomplished in nightlife -- this was one of my most memorable moments. I was described as a legend to the packed house, and the reception from the crowd gave me goosebumps. Usually when someone describes me as a legend, I check my pulse to see if I'm still alive, but here it thrilled me to my core. I looked impeccable in an Yves St. Laurent ensemble styled by Laurean Ossorio. The "voguing" houses and their balls are one of the best things nightlife has to offer. I told my friends to bring throat lozenges because they would be screaming so much. They thanked me for the advice. The night was a scream, with a love reserved for a Woodstock as real legends from the houses of La Beija, Ebony, Milan, Ninja, Legacy, and many more competed in 26 difficult categories. While most of you were up to the same ol' same ol' and complaining about it, Irving Plaza was packed and rocking.

My design business took me to Las Vegas for a night and a day. I can't tell you what it's all about yet because it really isn't anything until it really becomes something, and if I told you everything, you wouldn't need to come back Monday to find out more. I'm not a Vegas kind of guy. As far as I'm concerned, what happens in Vegas can stay in Vegas. As I don't gamble, enjoy shows, or whore around, I spend my time looking at what my design idols build when developers throw bushels of money at their projects. The story of a guy like me being flown out here to design something bodes well for the economy. A town built on gambling hasn't thrown too many building dice for over a year. Old projects with money in the pipeline have been built through the recession, although some are a little late and some a little less extravagant. New work has been as scarce as the crowds at the tables. My flight and the Las Vegas airport were packed, as a big fight brought all the players to the dessert.

Nick Cohen is one of those brash mash-up open-format DJs that has the gals swooning and the guys envious of his skills. It all seems easy to an outsider, this modern DJ thing. Serrato technology can put every song you might ever want to hear on a laptop and tell you exactly how to thread those songs together; DJs use this technology to mix in songs from different genres, as they have to constantly find a new way to thrill the crowd. They can carry thousands of songs with them, and the open format set that most clubs now feature can seem repetitive. The great DJs bring smiles to pretty faces as they mix in Dolly Parton, James Brown, or Gang of Four with a song that has been enjoyed so often it needs to be twisted. Those DJs that are successful and have the looks and charisma -- the whole package -- can demand megabucks In a market that has become ultra-international. Tours are no longer the domain of the house heads, as the worldwide table/bottle service phenomena demands DJs that make you sway in place rather than hit a dancefloor. People don’t spend money on dancefloors, but they do at tables.

This Saturday, the House of Xtravaganza will host their first ball in over five years. I live for balls, and I’ve always lived for the Xtravaganzas; this ball will consist of 26 different competitions. Cash prizes and trophies will be awarded. Contestants are spending hundreds of hours preparing, as this is a very big thing. Some of the categories are Realness, Natural Beauty, Butch Queen-Vogue Fem, Battle Kat, Cha Cha Ruffle Bitch, and Butch Trans and His Bitch: A Night on the Town. The competition is fierce, but the love pervades it all. I am honored to be a judge; when I was asked by grandfather Hector Xtravaganza, I got goose bumps. For me it was one of the greatest honors I have received in this business. Other judges are old friends designer Malcolm Harris and Patricia Fields. There are some others who are famous and all that, but I can't mention them right now. If you have never been to a ball, I recommend that you get out and catch this one. The Moda La Envida Xtravaganza Ball is this Saturday, November 14, at Irving Plaza from 8pm. For more info, email . The following is an interview I got with an Xtravaganza contingent a couple months back.

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).

A weekend of springlike weather brought optimism and a few mosquitoes to my downtown abode. It was a weekend of new construction -- a fresh start for so many things. The trickle of growth in clubdom has become a torrent, with my design firm getting an inquiry a day about our services. Gossip down below in subMercer was that Serge Becker's new subterranean versian of Chinatown Brasserie will make dim sum available for Thanksgiving. Lovely Day has recovered from its fire and is slowly returning to the neighborhood mainstay it was before. Also in the hood, Jon Lennon celebrated the second anniversary of his GoldBar on Ssunday. By the end of the day today, I should be signing a couple of more contracts -- maybe even three more, as the recession is officially over in nightlife.