About a million early-80s bucks were tossed into creating the stupefying 24-hour Lux complex at 5220 St Lawrence where you could get a drink, munch fries, peer at magazines and buy oddball doodads... although in truth you'd more likely just mill about amid fellow scenesters also not spending a dime.
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The artily-designed multi-purpose facility was bankrolled by thirtysomething physician Dr. Jean-Marie Labrousse and whipped into shape by designer Luc Laporte in 1983 and soon became a defining spot for its era but was, alas, never a lucrative venture.
The restaurant was hampered by slow-arriving waiters with a low threshold of tolerance for nightowl spendthrifts who descended on the place after the energy of the evening had sputtered out.
The bright, multi-level cavernous place – almost overwhelmed by a pair of industrial curved staircases - struggled from the outset as 4 a.m diners betrayed the magnificence of the environment by drunkenly thumbing through cheapie menu options after blowing their wad in bars down the road.
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Quirky items such as toothpaste from Italy, toast with Cheez Whiz and a 50-cent vitamins didn't prove to be hot sellers but a visit was an occasional mandatory pilgrimage. Spenders were few. Fashionable loiterers posing as consumers were many.
3:15 a.m. alternatives offered less bang for the non-buck: Lola's Paradise (3604) down the Main required you to make a purchase and attempt coherent chit chat.
But at Lux you could stand for an eternity basking in flattering halogen lamps flipping through Vogue and Details without the customary magazine store cashier raising an eyebrow after 20 minutes of reading.
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The copper-green metallic circus was set in a semi-no-man's-land of the Main near Fairmount, a remote spot during a time when nightclub poles were anchored by Business and Di Salvio's closer to Sherbrooke.
Hungry nightbirds (nobody would go to Lux before clubs closed) would usually hop from the cab further down at The Main for smoked meat or even Bagels Etc.
The end was clearly near when poetry reading sessions started in the bar upstairs during the endless early-90s recession. It closed in 1993 and is now used as arty office space.
Though it had its faults, Lux injected risk and imagination into a building where generations of garment workers spilled sacred blood from needle-pierced thumbs (previous building occupants included Kiddies Togs Manufacturing, Grand Cloak Manufacturing, Lyon Textiles and SW Sportswear) turning it into a loitering wonderland for 80s scenesters.
The artily-designed multi-purpose facility was bankrolled by thirtysomething physician Dr. Jean-Marie Labrousse and whipped into shape by designer Luc Laporte in 1983 and soon became a defining spot for its era but was, alas, never a lucrative venture.The restaurant was hampered by slow-arriving waiters with a low threshold of tolerance for nightowl spendthrifts who descended on the place after the energy of the evening had sputtered out.
The bright, multi-level cavernous place – almost overwhelmed by a pair of industrial curved staircases - struggled from the outset as 4 a.m diners betrayed the magnificence of the environment by drunkenly thumbing through cheapie menu options after blowing their wad in bars down the road.
Quirky items such as toothpaste from Italy, toast with Cheez Whiz and a 50-cent vitamins didn't prove to be hot sellers but a visit was an occasional mandatory pilgrimage. Spenders were few. Fashionable loiterers posing as consumers were many.3:15 a.m. alternatives offered less bang for the non-buck: Lola's Paradise (3604) down the Main required you to make a purchase and attempt coherent chit chat.
But at Lux you could stand for an eternity basking in flattering halogen lamps flipping through Vogue and Details without the customary magazine store cashier raising an eyebrow after 20 minutes of reading.
The copper-green metallic circus was set in a semi-no-man's-land of the Main near Fairmount, a remote spot during a time when nightclub poles were anchored by Business and Di Salvio's closer to Sherbrooke.Hungry nightbirds (nobody would go to Lux before clubs closed) would usually hop from the cab further down at The Main for smoked meat or even Bagels Etc.
The end was clearly near when poetry reading sessions started in the bar upstairs during the endless early-90s recession. It closed in 1993 and is now used as arty office space.
Though it had its faults, Lux injected risk and imagination into a building where generations of garment workers spilled sacred blood from needle-pierced thumbs (previous building occupants included Kiddies Togs Manufacturing, Grand Cloak Manufacturing, Lyon Textiles and SW Sportswear) turning it into a loitering wonderland for 80s scenesters.