Monsieur Depp is a gentleman, a scholar, and a sexy mothrf*ckr. Check out my own personal photo montage at right.

Contemporary art and low light set the mood at Selva. My date and I spend a short time waiting at the bar during which Sir Steve helps me choose a delicious martini made with Chambord, vanilla vodka, and champagne (the “French”). Vinny Sizemore, local playboy and owner of denim destination Stitch Boutique pops by with air kisses, and I politely wait before he is out of ear shot before turning to my date to tell him I’ve spotted a rival local girlie blogger sporting a very staid hot-pink pashmina/LBD combo. Ha. I always knew I was better…dressed.

Getting to the table I’m a little overwhelmed by the menu, and also the abundance of Affliction t-shirts in the room. While the atmosphere at Selva is quite elegant, it sadly seems to be a gathering spot for douchebags and their dates. Scanning the menu my date immediately chooses the octopus ceviche with avocado (yum), and I get an order of the truffle oil french fries to start (at right). Next, on the recommendation of several friends, I tried the tuna tartare, while my date had lobster with mango (also yum). The tuna was good, but not thrilling, and the service was definitely weak with no less than six different people bringing things to or from the table. Throw in a cheap bottle of wine and that killed my $100 gift card amount right quick so we button things up at Selva and bounce before we run into any more frenemies.

After a stop into Cork on St. Armands to scoop up one Miss JenKing visiting from New York, it’s over to Ivory, where the crew has gathered for Plush Entertainment’s big Website Launch Party.  This is where things start getting fuzzy. There’s music, my friends are there, and I have a long talk with a woman in a sparkly dress named Liz in the middle of the street. Next thing I know the place is closing and thankfully a beautiful friend gives me a ride out of there.

Unfortunately, said ride is to another party, but one can’t complain about being entertained at the fabulous home of Ivory Resident DJ Ansidis, aka Frank Enright. The Enrights are always consummate hosts, what with the fully stocked bar, built-in DJ setup, fire pit, hammock, and consistent carloads of great people. On this particular occasion one of those great people shows up with a bag of 20 tacos, which I happily dive into after my wimpy dinner, and then ask (very politely, no doubt) to please be taken home so I may pass out. I’ve got big plans for Saturday — making banners with a couple of favorite friends for the Sarasota Roller Girls‘ first bout tomorrow night. It will be my first derby bout too and I can’t wait.

Aside from the beautiful bar and capable menu, Arthur himself had always been a draw for me, so it’s very nice to see him back out on the floor of the restaurant. After I finished my calamari, Arthur sat down with us for a while to discuss his backyard garden, the changes at the restaurant, and that one time he dated the Jewish-Italian mayor of Providence, R.I. (“the sex was great but I’m not looking to be the first lady, okay!”). Another highlight of the evening at Main Street Oyster Bar was when server John stopped by to tell me that he was a fan of my work. “To what work are you referring?” I asked with a wink. All in all, the only thing I’ll miss about Zoria was meeting my favorite bartender in the handicap bathroom when I needed to make a “purchase”, but as they say, all good things must come to an end.

Next stop, Ivory. Why I continued drinking after dinner on a Wednesday I don’t know, but I wasn’t buying so agreed to go along for the ride. Before even getting in the door I ran into six friends including the lovely lady of The HuB, Assunta Swier, and her feisty friend/massage therapist Stacie Nevelus. We followed them inside and ran into the rest of the Ivory regulars but it didn’t take long to get tired of the piped in hip-hop, so we beat it.

At the Sports Page came the proverbial “last drink I didn’t need,” but a group of Filipino friends were at a booth against the wall so Joe and I joined them in helping break beer bottles attempting to perform one of those pull-the-tablecloth-out-from-under-the-silverware-type parlor tricks (waitress Lisa was quite gracious about helping clean up our mess). Black tie clad young men and women with big instrument cases flooded in for a late night bite and after a club sandwich of my own I hit the road and passed out. Needless to say, my Thursday did not feel so good, but it was nice to spend a little time on the town reconnecting with my city. With events on the agenda for the next six weeks and parking spots harder and harder to come by I think it is safe to say that Season is here.