We went back to the restaurant at Hotel Costes last night, as promised in Thursday's column. That was after a perfectly chilled martini ($45) in the bar at the Ritz. (Did I mention wiping out my savings account with this trip?) Just call us gluttons for financial punishment. But we are loving every minute of it.

The nighttime entry to Costes is not as easy as during the day because the intimidators (swarthy men in dark suits) tend to block the pathway, scaring off anyone without a strong sense of self worth. There's another guy in a dark suit to open the inside door while he gives you the once-over, assessing your level of sophistication and whether or not you really do have business in this inner-sanctum of the partying scenesters.

We were chic enough to get in but apparently not fabulous enough to merit a coveted seat in the courtyard. Their mistake. Either we sit in the courtyard or we leave. So there.

The hostess acquiesced — sightly — and offered us a table in the hallway looking out to the courtyard. Not working for us. My husband, striking in double-breasted suit with orange Hermes tie and hankie, asked, "Are we sitting in the courtyard or not?" His best Jason Bourne tough guy stance now intimidating the hostess. "Oui, monsieur." We got our table amid the holy land of Costes diners.

And from our glorious perch, we found the people-watching practically as glamorous as at the Cannes Film Festival. It's just that these beauties with legs the length of stilts in micro-mini skirts and the tide of drop-dead gorgeous gay men weren't in black-tie and weren't in the movies. We are certain, however, that some of them have those aspirations such as the male model sitting next to us showing his beau the latest photos for his portfolio.

Long story short, the food was killer delicious. We had three appetizers — foie gras, escargots and an artichoke/asparagus salad laced with balsamic vinegar dressing. Despite the cigarette and pipe smoke that wafted our way (they can't smoke indoors but an enclosed courtyard with open roof is ashtray friendly), we would go back tonight just for the parade of glamazons and gay caballeros. Except that designer Andrew Gn and his partner, Erick Horlin, arranged for dinner reservations as their favorite restaurant, which also happens to be Madonna's fave. Eight tables, one waiter. But that's tonight.

The designer

Andrew Gn has loads of friends in Houston including Cynthia Petrello, Valerie Sarofim, Tootsies buyer Penne Weidig, Becca Cason Thrash, Tootsies owner Mickey Rosmarin and CultureMap's editor-in-chief Clifford Pugh and John Dascoulias. My pal Clifford set up a tour of Andrew's new salon (more to come later on that) in the Marais district and we were subsequently invited to lunch with him and Erick at a neighborhood brasserie.

Fun! The guys are gregarious and delightful. Since tomorrow is Saturday and my schedule is free, I asked them to name their favorite things to do in Paris on the weekends. Other than hang loose (no dinner parties or galas, thank you), for Andrew, it's arranging flowers for every room in the apartment. "It de-stresses me," he said as he went on about the peonies, roses and irises that he employs in June and how he'll be doing all the flowers for his home when Elle magazine arrives in a few weeks to shoot it for a feature story.

For an outing, they enjoy antique hunting at Marché aux Puces. My only reservation is the pick-pocket situation there, of which I've heard more than enough. Another favorite weekend excursion, if not escaping to a friend's country house, is the the food market on Boulevard Raspail, which I think we'll try on Sunday.

Andrew and Erick were quickly back to the salon for a 2 o'clock fitting for Susan Tolson, wife the U.S. Ambassador to France. Andrew is creating a dress for her for Prince Albert's wedding in Monaco next month. We're having dinner at her house, actually the U.S. Ambassador's residence, on Sunday as the first of three days of parties during the Liaisons au Louvre II.

The weather

After coming from Houston's 105-degree temps, we have to love the fact that we are freezing. Actually, the lows are in the 50s and the high today only 64 with on-again-off-again rain. I picked up a wool cape at one of those cheapie tourist shops along the Rue du Rivoli yesterday, preferring to spend my money on pricy cocktails rather than a priceless Hermes or Burberry jacket, particularly when my closet at home is packed with jackets and wraps.