Sometimes, you get a perfect night, a glittering evening where -- within a few blocks' radius -- every party is somehow related. Even when they're absolutely not.

So it was one recent, elegantly chilled October evening. Ali Waks and Dave Magrogan put on a disco-balled benefit for Bring Back The Bayou with host John DeBella at his mustachioed best at The Crystal Tea Room. It was the opening of the wide, high, grotto-like Estia, the new Greek restaubar complete with more private rooms than a shipping magnate's yacht. Finally you had the opening of the white, warehousey lifestyle salon, Mitchell Gold + Bob Williams furniture showroom, one where lots of men with blond highlights and expensive rectangular eyeglasses hung with the women who loved them.

"The gay community is very much Mitchell and Bob's clientele. Most of their showrooms are on the outskirts of or within the community," says managing partner Bruce Levy of the famous furnishing couple.

A furniture store might seem an unlikely venue for what masqueraded as a party equal parts Limelight ball, Warholian Factory outlet and gay Ritz-y disco. An armoire might not be something as readily cheered as tits. It's hard for me to imagine, despite its three floors and 8,700 square feet of high ceilings, glossy whitewashed exposed brick and beams, visible plank hardwood flooring and cracked concrete walls, that I'd be sipping martoonis while looking at coffee tables -- getting more excited about armoires than breasts.

But if lifestyle -- the great umbrella term for all manner of home decoration -- has become the new religion, be it seen in Wallpaper or Budget Living, then MG+BW is its churchlike club. Hence my Limelight comment -- that dusky space being the first church I can think of that became a nightclub.

Hey, they didn't bring in DJ Lady Bunny to spin in the basement for nothing.

"I don't have any deep analysis, honey, as to furniture being religious," said Bunny, wearing a bouffant high on her head, her false eyelashes falsely and her Playboy tunic proudly. She pointed toward her listeners: several distressed Parisian leather club chairs in lime, ox blood and deep red; and a large oblong table with the legend "Surf's Up" stuck on it (several of MG+BW's top pieces have names, like "Behind Closed Drawers" for their Camp Hickory Bachelor Chest).

What is neat is that this shop is as cool and beautiful and spare a warehouse for MG+BW-designed fabrics, slip covered and upholstered sofas, chairs, ottomans, dining chairs (don't forget all the lighting -- the track lights, the long, wan "Niko") as the stuff itself.

So many of its toniest items -- mahogany beds with tall twisted posts and Tramp Art spool tables, for instance -- are set like theater pieces, lit amidst towering ceilings and rust-colored backdrops with yards of exposed heating vents. MG+BW's furniture and furnishings have been used on shows like Sex and the City, Six Feet Under and The Apprentice.

The building itself is sheer drama. The Rappaport property, which once held Blondie's hip-hop clothing, was a mess. "It was a cave," said Levy. "Our air conditioning ducts and the track lighting? Their ceiling was below it. Their basement was like an old hockey rink. A rat hole. MJRA Architects opened that up."

The gorgeous space is like one giant lounge with individual cubbyholes. Rows of pristinely muted fabrications hang like fine garments in the first floor lounge area, behind a wall of antique-y portallike mirrors. A low-slung basement with crackling ceiling beams feels like one huge conversation pit with so many L-shaped couches and loveseat patterns in leather and suede. An upstairs mezzanine has at its smallish center deep chocolate plush-pit seating and an immense glass coffee-table top with square-glass candleholders and a fresh grass display. After a short walk up to its third floor, you get assaulted with more divans and tall mirrors than my old SoHo apartment.

"When Mitchell and Bob unveiled their 90-piece case goods and lamps, we had to find a bigger build-out," said Levy of finding a showroom big enough to hold the pair's newest design ideal, one based on things they themselves had owned, antique and modern. "We had to find something immense, cutting edge and hip. I think we nailed it."

Mitchell Gold + Bob Williams furniture showroom, 1308 Chestnut St., 215-732-2001.