Kylie Minogue has nothing to prove. She’s the sweetheart of just about every nation in the world. Countless European tabloid covers have devoted serious headline space to her romance with Italian pin-up Andrés Velencoso, 10 years her junior. The mini-divinity has not one, but five fragrances. She was even honored with the prestigious Order of the British Empire and the French Order of Arts and Letters. So why, exactly, has Minogue’s career not taken off Stateside? Maybe it’s because she hasn’t toured in North America since first chugging along to “The Loco- Motion” in 1987. Even Neighbours, the TV soap opera that gave birth to her illustrious career, was broadcast almost exclusively for Australian and European audiences. But all that’s about to change as the gamine, 41-year-old entertainer from Down Under takes her spectacular live show this side of the pond for the first time ever. Through each endeavor and incarnation—from Charlene, the garage mechanic on Neighbours, to the early-’90s shiny bubblegum-pop princess and the moody soul-searcher alongside Nick Cave, to the breast cancer survivor and activist—Kylie stays Kylie. Both sexy and likeable, she is the diva-next-door.

In the run up to Sunday's main event, the Gay Pride parade, I went to visit Miss Honey Dijon, the Chicago house DJ who is now a New Yorker. Miss Honey was playing at a party called Chocolate later in the evening, which was clear on the other side of town. I wasn't sure I would make it that long, so I met her at a Mexican restaurant in Echo Park, where she was sitting with six or so of her favorite gay boyfriends.

A night that began with a quiet and scrumptious Whole Foods BBQ was turned on its ear by a bombardment of text messages about the goings-on at theGansevoort rooftop. The nice weather enticed me to the party, which my friends call "woof.” I asked if that was the real name for the party -- after all, I am a nightlife correspondent, and accuracy should be part of my agenda. I asked my friend again, who avoided eye contact and said, "When it's good they call it ‘woof, woof’,” or sometimes "woof, roof'.” Maybe Sundays are not for answers. The roof was packed, although everybody told me it was a weak night. Apologetic promoters told me that "it’s usually more packed" and that celebrities abound. "Last week, Leonardo DiCaprio and Willem Dafoe were here, but this week we only have Lance Bass.”

Walter Durkacz is an extraordinary human being. He tells me this in the course of our interview, and you don’t find me disagreeing. In the movie business -- a place Walter tells me that he wants to be -- the real players are often quiet participants, while other less brainy but maybe more brawny folk tend to get all the credit. Take Gone with the Wind for instance, most people know its mega stars Clark Gable, Vivien Leigh, Olivia de Havilland and even Hattie McDaniel. But these were all just interchangeable hired guns, and so many others might have done just as well. The heavy lifting was done by the far lesser known (at least these days) producer David O. Selznick and the director Victor Fleming. How many of you knew Victor Fleming’s name? Yet, in that same year, 1939, Victor also directed The Wizard of Oz, so you really should know him. Walter Durkacz is that kind of player. If you take the time to read this, you will see a list of names and places that Walter made happen, and you will be impressed and wonder how come you’ve never heard of him. Although he is very quiet (unless you speak to him), Walter is making moves.

Rose Bar partner and creative director Nur Khan rocks out with Metallica in his living room, trains with Shaolin monks, holds court at his drinkery, and caps off the night at the Beatrice Inn. Just don’t ask him to sing karaoke.

Point of Origin: I actually converted a decrepit old movie theater in Connecticut (my home state). It was one of those old balcony movie theaters. I rebuilt that and turned it into a live music venue, a rock venue. I did that while Diana Ross’ husband was my partner, and we brought in Ron Delsner. Delsner was promoting Roseland and the Academy Theater at the time. This was probably 1990-91. I was commuting to Wall Street. We had this great music venue, and we took all the acts that came to Roseland and the Academy and rerouted them up to Connecticut. It was like a smaller version of the Ritz. Back then, there was such huge talent coming out of this venue: Radiohead, Nirvana, Pearl Jam. We called it the Marquee Theater.