t 11:00pm, Budo Liquid Theatre is packed and loud. The weekly Friday night party has drawn a crowd of the usual club-going suspects. There are too many men in here for club gender-ratio comfort (It helps to be with a beautiful girl to get past the door here) - men skulking around slowly like cats in a bird sanctuary, chatting and dancing with women. By midnight, it will all even out, it always does.

Budo is the younger, confident sibling of moody problem child, Fluid, down the street - all grown-up, but not the least bit old or pompous. Budo, meaning “way of the warrior” in Japanese, settled in quickly, all polished and proud with it’s designer furniture, signature fruit martinis and plans for a second floor tapas restaurant. From the moment Irfan Bukhari’s body-locked lounge opened, a healthy stampede moved on in. Once past the Budo door constabulary, the scene-addicted club folk partied within a mesmerizing three-story temple of mod, complete with a 35-foot waterfall serving as the backdrop for projected Japanese art and poetry - the namesake liquid theatre.

A large crowd and lineup helped create a none-too-honest "come-and-go-as-you-please" door policy. This ensured two things without which no under-30 single Torontonian feels the nightlife experience is complete: 1) claustrophobic, bar-clogging chaos and 2) celebrity sightings. You came to Budo knowing you might wait hours at the rope, but you'd get to see - Omigod - Ethan.

These days a trip to the Peter Street nightspot will most likely be filled with a younger stampede, an attractive crowd that may or may not appreciate the surroundings. Gone are the pricy signature cocktails. “It’s still a premium brand bar,” says Bukhari, “But the fancy martinis just weren’t taking. They were all made with fresh juices, but they couldn’t see past the price.”