Every day is opening night.

Ladies and Gents,

The Tony nominations have been unveiled, and the spirit of (mostly) friendly competition can be felt up and down Broadway. I had the pleasure of watching the announcements with a few select confidantes in a private atelier at the Civilian, where mimosas, bagels, and cupcakes adorned with the names of potential nominees were served.

Later that afternoon, I fluttered into Sardi’s, where the John Proctor Is the Villain crowd had assembled to celebrate its tally of noms – more than any other play. In another corner, I raised a glass of house chardonnay with the always-effervescent The Roommate producers Nelle Nugent and Kenneth Teaton, in honor of Mia Farrow’s first-ever Tony nomination. Can you imagine? All that glorious work and this is her first? And, let me remind you that the Academy has never seen fit to nominate her, either. Well, perhaps June will see her long-overdue coronation.  Nelle reminded me that she’s known Mia ever since she cast Mia’s mom, Maureen O’ Sullivan, in the glorious (and Tony-winning) McCann & Nugent production of Mornings at Seven.

Then a swing to the Booth Theatre for a pre-show toast — John Proctor again — where playwright Kimberly Belflower and director Danya Taymor (both nominees) took gleeful bows with the company, who were dressed in youthful shades so bright I nearly had to borrow someone’s sunglasses.

A quick breeze through the St. James revealed a scene bordering on preschool fête for Sunset Blvd.: balloons, cupcakes, and a cotton candy vendor wearing rainbow suspenders. Executive Producers Wendy Orshan and Jeff Wilson were fussing over Tom Francis, while Nicole Scherzinger beamed with cast mates.

At the Winter Garden, the company of Good Night, and Good Luck celebrated its leading man and their other nominees. I counted Clark Gregg, Glenn Flesher, Ilana Glazer and Christopher Denham in the cocktail crush on nominee Scott Pask’s glorious news studio set. A rumor buzzed that Mr. Clooney is sourcing a vintage tux for Tony Sunday.

Dinner conversation at Bobby Van’s centered not on this, but next season – specifically the hotly anticipated Queen of Versailles. I tucked into a steakhouse alongside the upcoming tuner’s director Michael Arden and designer Dane Laffrey (both fresh off Maybe Happy Ending noms), and producer Anna Mack. Why Bobby Van’s? The hosts at Gallagher’s and Mastro’s refused to seat me — which I can only assume means they’re loyal readers.

A detour back to the Winter Garden brought a glimpse of special guests Bruce Springsteen and Patti Scialfa, who loved the show and hung around so long after the performance with Clooney and the cast (and the band and its superb vocalist, Georgia Heers) that I hear the doorman required overtime pay.

Meanwhile, I sprinted (yes, sprinted) to the Longacre for the thunderous final moments of Dead Outlaw — roaring crowd, the kind of reaction that could rouse the dead. Then straight to the Golden Theatre for the equally electric conclusion of Operation Mincemeat, then off in a sprinter van with that show’s giddy cast to West Bank Café for a sangria-fueled soirée. (Fans of the show will know why sangria was the drink du jour.)

Tony Season has just begun, and I already need to lie down!

Tidbits from around town…

Caught Padma Lakshmi at Kalustyan’s quizzing a shopkeeper on the subtle differences between Kashmiri and Tellicherry peppercorns, then buying both “just in case.”

Spied Bob Balaban purchasing an entire case of Gerolsteiner sparkling water at Trader Joe’s.

Overheard Jeremy O. Harris at Bemelmans grumbling about “overly enthusiastic” dog owners while stirring his Negroni with a Bic pen.

Witnessed Timothée Chalamet (or a dead ringer) helping a baffled tourist navigate the subway at Union Square.

A toast of something sparkling to you and yours!

Kisses,