How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! how art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations!
For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God: I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north: I will ascend above the heights of the clouds;
I will be like the most High. Yet thou shalt be brought down to hell, to the sides of the pit.
You know the tale: God creates all. All is good. Then Mankind happens and gets the short end of the stick. Lucifer rebels against Heaven, and ends up cast into Hell for eternity for losing.
The real story is somewhat more complicated.
We are from the West.
The world we suggest should be of a new wild west,
A sensuous, evil world,
Strange and haunting.
— Jim Morrison
Lux vaunts its salacious past. The site has had its fair share of scandal: it has hosted the likes of immigrants, a Prohibition-era cabaret frequented by celebrities, and a few dark deals. It's a beautiful, vaulted den of dusky upholstery, dark floors, and brass accents. Jazz and soulful tunes are the place's calling card.
Those who make it past the watchful doorstaff fall through the looking-glass into a sensual, vibrant experience heavy on Old World flourishes and an intimacy rare in the soulless vinyl and Formica cocktail bar scene elsewhere. Hints of counterculture and rebellion are woven into the decor, a nod to the lyrics covering up the same. It's a lounge for lovers of cocktails, the louche, the velvety and the vivacious. Stimulating conversation and drinks to match are almost a necessity.
The cocktail list trades on the music's reputation for debauchery. If you've a devil-may-care attitude to your drinks, pluck a selection that earns a smirk or cipher the ingredients list. As might be expected in a hideaway for luxury libations and lyrical liaisons, the sleek space has a sense of mischief and impropriety.
— From a very particular reviewer's pen, among those in the know.
In principio creavit Deus cælum et terram.
Terra autem erat inanis et vacua, et tenebræ erant super faciem abyssi:
et spiritus Dei ferebatur super aquas.
Dixitque Deus: Fiat lux. Et facta est lux.
Et vidit Deus lucem quod esset bona: et divisit lucem a tenebris.
— Genesis 1:1-4
And God said, let there be light. And there was.
The being who calls himself Lucian is, very much, that first blaze of light at the instant of creation. Yet he is but a spark to the immense potential that served to cleave the fomenting chaos in twain, bringing forth from the void of eternity being. He is to his former might but a pale reflection, and yet he is still Lucifer Morningstar, named a thousand thousand names by sentient creatures hurtling around countless stars in an ever-expanding universe.
He's also simply a fellow who appreciates music and mixing up cocktails as the mood takes him.