Imagine the small frisson of satisfaction we had one night when the doorman at No 8 said "it's a private party". Okay, fine; it actually was a private party. But for a moment we had an Armin flashback. Ah nostalgia for impossible doors. Once inside, the scooped out booths and palm tree wallpaper did feel decidedly familiar, but while in some ways Amy Sacco has come back to us in NY, this is not just a Bungalow re-boot. At No 8, which LDV owns and Amy is a partner, everything, is well, more homey. The lounge has nibbles with such fun things as Chef Anthony Russo's Angry Lobster taco with tomato salsa, a lovely fresh Ahi tuna tartar, a tasty grilled cheese with a tomato bisque, sweet prosciutto and onion flatbread; and a can't-miss beignet-esque fried Oreo. Drinks are playful; a watermelon martini with fresh fruit and a Scorpion tequila drink were popular. Indeed there is a calmer, lighter, softer air about the whole place. A chandelier turns in the middle of the room while Bob Seger and Duran Duran tunes are on as folks eat, hug, laugh, and clink glasses. No one looks impossibly waifey. The club kids of yore have all graduated to legitimate book and recording deals, and much talk is about one's next project, as opposed to the next party. All the sharp edges of the 90s are gone. Well, perhaps not all. As we left, a trader- type stood at the rope attempting to negotiate how much bottle service he would be willing to buy for entry.

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