At Cambridge, he wasn’t as funny as John Cleese (born Cheese) or Graham Chapman, who were in the comedy footlights, and -- while deciding on a career as either a journalist or a chef -- he took up amateur drama. Since University, Sir Ian McKellen has become the consummate professional.

In the end, I end up at subMercer because it is reliable, well-run, intelligent, classy, unpretentious, and adult. My goodness, I could go on forever, but of course goodness has nothing to do with it -- subMercer is sexy. Doormaster Richard Alvarez and I exchanged a dozen "oh my gods" and "you look greats" and we both said "fierce" and "fabulous" and "work" a few times before I went subterranean. A sea of familiar faces greeted me and mine. Gabby Mejia, who rules this gem, got me my usual -- a glass of water -- and stunned me with conversation and a slinky black cocktail dress. Greg Brier of Brier Group's Aspen, Aspen Social, Highbar, Amalia, and D'or fame was celebrating his birthday, and he didn't look nearly as old as people said he was. DJs Justin Strauss and Tommy James were hanging out to support by being even a bit older than Greg. One of mine said Greg was "charismatic and handsome and fun and it was amazing that he was as old as he was." I reminded her that I have shoes as old as him. She asked, "How long have you guys known each other?" and I said, "I can't tell you how we met or where or how long ago, or I would be dating myself," and then looked her up and down and realized I already was.

The town is going goo ga ga over The Standard Hotel's Boom Boom Room and, of course, that not a drag at all queen, Lady Gaga. Word comes to me from multiple (usually reliable) sources that the upper tiers of The Standard will have club legends, Nur Khan and Paul Sevigny on board after a few T's are crossed. I think it's two different spaces, but hey, it's only one cab ride. I could call them both and get a denial...so I'll wait for their phone calls and find the truth in their protests—although it does really makes sense as all parties involved would benefit from the fit. Paul has been looking for a place to hang his hat since The Beatrice took a beating and Nur just loves to be on top of the world. Paul has had marvelous success with his Tuesdays and Thursdays at Avenue so it seems he and Nur are at the top of their game right now. The Standard's excellent location and sublime views combined with the smart looks and staffing seems ideal.

● Per Se at the Time Warner Center (Midtown West) - Discreet and intimate, with stunning attention to detail. That's how one would choose to describe this advanced gastronomy resto at the Time Warner Center. It doubles for the bathrooms. Discreet, intimate, and roomy. I can name more than a few hookup tales thanks to these private rooms.
● 1 Oak (Chelsea) - Private bathrooms lined in a row for a gorgeous group waiting in a line. Floor to ceiling coverage, low lighting, and mirrors where you just barely make out your own reflection. Bonus for the fact the attendant never seems to be around. Maybe he's getting it on as well?
● Plaza Hotel (Midtown West) - Act like you're old money having an affair like the rest of the clientele. Restrooms are private and off main grid of the palace, though everyone's too wrapped up in themselves to notice your vulgar behavior. Posh, gilded -- dare we say fucking tacky -- catering to tacky, sexy quickies.

I am not a frequent visitor to The Box, even though I live just a short walk away. The shows don't excite me much; in fact, what I have seen has had the opposite affect. However, I cannot deny the cultural impact the place has had on our town. In the jaded land of nightlife, The Box has redefined the model-bottle era. In its performance-based theatrical approach, it has shocked us into believing once again that if you think outside of the box in clubdom, you can achieve success. My problem with the bottle-model era is that it's never been over the top enough to excite me. It never pushed the envelop or culture. Having Lindsay Lohan, Paris, and a gaggle of lowbrow celebutantes, models, and promoters throwing napkins into the air to generic music is not greatness. Any night at the World, Studio, Area, Paradise Garage, or any of the classic joints was better than the best nights ever at Marquee, Tenjune, or Kiss & Fly. I am not knocking these clubs, as they are doing their formulated best to entertain their crowds. They are the product of these times and are a reflection of the attitude of their owners and the need to make money against impossible odds.

There may be a push to a performance-based nightclub scene as more and more clubs explore alternative ways to attract moths to their fading lamps. The Box has certainly led the way for this generation but its shocking, or often described as "disgusting approach," to performance may not be necessary. There are inklings of a burlesque revival, which has small but tenacious roots in places like Corio and The Slipper Room. Dita Von Teese is the grand dame of this genre. I caught her act over at the now-defunct E. 27th Street haunt Happy Valley, when she performed for Suzanne and Kenny. Her performance in an oversized champagne glass nearly drove me to drink. Murray Hill, however, is a performance artist who I have seen for almost 15 years. His act has evolved from a distraction to a big time "show biz" attraction. Murray will be joining Dita tomorrow night in L.A. and I expect sparks. Catch Murray as soon as you can while you can get it cheap. The world just might be ready for him at exactly the same time he is sober and honed to meet the world.

Dining might be the new nightlife, so then where does that leave nightlife? Could nightlife be the new shopping? Could it be still alive and well, and hiding behind a bandolier of dusty velvet ropes? Our dear Foster's existential breakdown and subsequent pocketbook damage got me to thinking about what everyone else (re: people with jobs other than chronicling New York nightlife) is doing with their free time in Manhattan. I cornered a Wall Street Dude, a New York Newbie, a Hipster DJ, a girl-about-town Socialite, a Fashion Intern, and a Lawyer to see what's going on behind our editorial backs. Turns out actually going someplace isn't a precursor for strong opinions, pro or con. For example:

WALL STREET DUDE
So, what do you think is hot these days in nightlife?
Minetta Tavern.

Lest you think Ronald McDonald is a benevolent jester who just wants you to have a happy meal, know that he's just the guise in which an evil empire disguises itself to appeal to the kiddies. Just ask actor, health nut, and Box partner Josh Lucas, who was basically strong-armed by Ronald and his goons out of offering up a healthy alternative to McDonald's gunk. Mighty's was to be the actor's gift to us ordinary folk who can't afford to eat organic all the time. But when prices got too high, and Ronald reared his grotesque head, Lucas' dream basically died.

One of things I touched on yesterday in my story about actor/doorman Wass Stevens was the concept of exit strategy for nightlife workers. Most people employed in nightlife have other careers that they hope will take them to some promised land. For some, it's a dream of fame and fortune; for others it's a law degree and a nice house in Minneapolis. Many have no plans at all and are just trying to get through the week. Sometimes it would bother me if after many years of trying to act or paint, the bartender had not broken out or progressed and they seemed destined to be a gin-slinger for life. I hired creative people. That was my trip. I wanted these kinds of interesting art types to make a decent living and move on. I wanted my patrons to interact with these types. Many of my best friends have and are indeed now facing the realities of being stuck behind the three compartment sink and serving people they no longer relate to. Moving to California is a band-aid often applied. My ex-bartender Scrappy is still in the life but has segued into singing and performing in burlesque shows around town. Catch her act ( and any of the other burlesque shows being offered) if you can. The Box broke this stuff out to a financially viable level, and I think we will see more of it. It keeps getting more interesting. Just ask Scrappy.

If you’re the type of person who doesn’t frequent IMDb, to you Josh Lucas is still that dude from Sweet Home Alabama. If you frequent Perez Hilton, then he’s probably the guy who Rachel MacAdams is dating post-Gosling. But Lucas is now a decade-deep into a serious film career that’s seen him go from brooding indie artiste in films like Undertow and Session 9, to American hero in blowouts like Stealth and Poseidon. His latest film is tiny, but it packs a sledgehammer punch. Death in Love is grueling film directed by Boaz Yakin, about a mother (the ferocious Jacqueline Bisset) who uses her tortured past as an excuse to torment her two sons, played by Lucas and a decrepit Lukas Haas. It isn’t a fun movie (Lucas calls it masturbatory), but you probably guessed that from the title. Lucas' plays a man so wounded that he tries dulling the pain through violent sex (there are at least six women in the first ten minutes). I spoke to the surprisingly mellow actor about the effects of taking on such a demanding role, offering up sex on Craigslist, and those damn pharmaceutical companies.