● Mission Beach Café (Mission) - A favorite among hip neighborhood lushes for post-booze-fest brunches. Pretty young things, some still clad in their PJs, searching for comfort in decadent biscuits and gravy, Prather Ranch beef brisket hash, and of course pomegranate grapefruit Mimosas.
● Home (The Castro) - Bloody Mary preferences say a lot about a person. Do you take yours spicy or mild? With celery or olives?? Home’s Build Your Own Bloody Mary bar, which includes all of the standard accoutrement plus wasabi and a whole bevy of hot sauces, allows you to express your individuality while downing oversized omelets and crunchy cornflake French toast.
● Zazie (Cole Valley) - To compensate for the indelicacies of last night’s festivities, atmosphere of subtle French refinement can help you regain your sense of dignity. Shade your sensitive eyes under an umbrella in this small Cole Valley bistro’s back garden and sip on a cranberry or mango juice mimosa, forgetting last night ever happened.

A while back the often maligned but generally easy guy to deal with Jon B of Home/Guesthouse fame was looking for a new spot to hang his hat. I steered him into what is now the Greenhouse space. I had been designing the property for the shelter crew of Timmy Regisford and Merlin Bobb, and it turned out they needed a partner. I felt strongly that the space, which has been a nightspot since pre World War II, was ideal -- an easy-to-get-to cabaret downtown with few neighbors. A home run. Jon told me I was nuts for a couple of months, but then moved in.

The good news came via BlackBerry from Eddie Dean in Ibiza. Pacha won its hard-fought battle against the NYPD, who seemingly would stop at nothing to close the club down. I had sat in the back of the courthouse and listened to arguments from both sides, and although I was extremely biased towards the defendant, I tried to be objective. But I couldn't find a case in the government's case. It all seemed to get down to the concept that although Pacha was taking extraordinary measures to prevent drug sales on its premises, the sales continued. The police case seemed to be that the continuing operation of the mega-club was a drain on the department's resources. These resources would be better spent patrolling the nearby hood. All doughnut jokes aside, the argument didn't seem to impress Judge Joan Madden, who threw it out. I read the verdict, and indeed there are stipulations that make this less than a 100% victory for New York's last real mega-club; but for today, it's a reason to be cheerful.

I awoke to the sound of CNN blaring great economic news to my Martinez Brothers-blown ears. Cielo is winding down its summer programming, and as reported earlier will close August 1 until September by court order. The Martinez Brothers are no longer the new kids on the block and seem destined to become legends before they reach 21 years of age. As I write this, the good people over at Pacha are awaiting a decision by Judge Joan Madden regarding the fate of the last mega-house club this town can boast. I have heard unsubstantiated rumors of economic troubles over at M2, and to me, Webster Hell is not a consideration. Home and Guesthouse just shuttered under the weight of enforcement, and the question "who's next?" looms large. Is it a coincidence this latest round of crackdowns by the powers that be is happening just as an economic recovery is waking me and the whole country up?

Exactly five years to the day after opening, Jon B's 27th Street mainstays Home and Guesthouse have closed. The presence of mounted police, klieg lights, and general harassment by authorities of all patrons wanting to party in Outer Chelsea (OuCh) proved too much. Almost 100 employees found out yesterday afternoon that they were no longer working at the venues. I caught up with Jon and asked him why he closed so suddenly. "I feel terrible. I took care of everybody as long as I could, even when times were tough for me. Yesterday I had to pay a bunch of fines, and I didn't have money in the account. I had to close -- there was no other option."

I got this story secondhand -- and like sweaters I get that way, it's bound to have a few holes in it. It seems that Bungalow 8 was closed for ten days, and excuses like “Amy isn't around” and “They were taking a break or renovating” were thrown out for their adoring public. A source with some chops told me it was the collapse of parts of the roof that caused the closing. Plexiglas panels came detached, and in a sky-is-falling late night incident, the party came to a stop. Repairs were long overdue, and staff did their best to control the elements with strategically placed buckets and such. Amy is indeed traveling some, but my source revealed that with only about a year and a half left on her lease, Ms. Sacco has decided to ride it out. She has some money put aside from the sale of her West 23rd Street boîte as well as a flow of consulting fees from the Griffin, the Hard Rock Hotel in Las Vegas, and the "Living by Amy" condo project on John Street. Bungalow 8 London, which according to another source isn’t hitting its marks, is still another revenue stream for the queen of nightlife.

What clubs offer that bars and lounges generally don’t is sound and DJs. There are a few guys at the top of the heap in the sound world, and Daniel Agne is one of those guys. If the sound is crisp and clear, chances are that the club owner spent a great deal of cash to make that happen. As a designer, sound considerations are a day-one thing. The open entrance to the mezzanine level at Marquee with no apparent break to stop the bleed from the main floor was a major design move. The padded ceiling and columns and front of the bar at Home overcame the tremendous bounce from the hardwood floors, brick walls, and concrete ceilings. Joe Lodi hid bass speakers behind banquettes and added a scoop that pushed the sound where it needed to be. The club world is never as easy as people think, and I hope this interview with Daniel gives you insight on the process of sound installation

I’ve known Ian Gerard of Gen Art from the beginning. Gen Art parties are must-attend events that combine an eclectic mix of the film, art, and an amazing social scene in clubs around town. Ian was originally very hands-on with the details at every event, and he did everything short of popping the popcorn. He booked the films, did the invites, arranged for the after-party venue, got the liquor sponsor, invited the crowds, did the door, then went inside and schmoozed with everyone -- and at the end of the night, he swept out the place. Gen Art has gotten too big for that much control, and Ian has delegated to a creative crew, but the upcoming Gen Art Film Festival has gotten better and better and more significant over the years. I stole Ian away from his furious preparations for this years’ festival to ask him a few questions about Gen Art.

My favorite memories of Lelaine Lau are her Sunday-night bingo parties at Bungalow 8, where my ex provided her with many of the prizes. She had a warehouse full of neat stuff like Prada bags and Cartier bracelets that were given out to blasted bingoers. Nowadays, they’d give out a plastic bag with a Swatch in it -- maybe. She had “club royalty” types obsessing over things like B-6 or N-17. She never does the expected thing and is sometimes rewarded for it; I’ve always seen her as a wayward artist or an intellectual who feeds at the teat of nightlife and can’t figure out why she’s here. Lelaine is a bright woman -- well-read, cultured, and a breath of fresh air from the usual promoter dweebs and their crackberries. I actually go places when she asks me to, as opposed to trying to figure out how to block some fool from emailing me an invite to listen to the same songs I heard the night before at a party celebrating the birthday of some skinny chickadee who thinks Dickens is the punch line of a bad joke and Hemingway is a street in the garment district.

As far as restaurant eats go, Scranton PA must be the pits. I've never been, but come on. So it's a good thing that only the character Oscar Nunez plays on NBC's hit show The Office lives in Scranton, and that real Oscar gets to enjoy the finest culinary treasures that New York has to offer. "There’s a place in the Village called Home, really cozy and romantic. Another place is Quality Meats, around the corner from the Ritz-Carlton.It’s a great steakhouse, beautiful atmosphere, really dark and woody -- modern but eclectic, and the food is amazing. They have wonderful vegetables, but you go there for the steak."