November 2, 2005 | 4:16 pm

Dinner and Datum
I met the editor-in-chief of Datum. Of what, you say? Normally, I wouldn't know from Austrian magazines either. But it so happens that every Sunday I read Tyler Brűlé's column in the Financial Times - Brűlé being the style guru who founded the magazine Wallpaper. And just a few weeks ago he anointed Datum "best news magazine" in his "Fast Lane Media Awards," a survey of global media. (He also dubbed Austrian state broadcaster ORF's FM4 best radio channel, "for pace, variety and internationalism." It has some English-language programming.)

So I was actually rather excited to meet Klaus Stimeder, Datum's bossman. He gave me a copy of the September issue, but being unable to read German, I can only attest to its excellent design. Klaus walks, talks and smokes at the high speeds I associate with the maniacally successful. I told him I was looking for cool things in Vienna, and within 24 hours he had given me phone numbers for a nightclub owner, a party promoter, a radio executive and a novelist. Truly a journalist's dream.

I met Klaus only by happenstance. He was among the sparkling array of guests at Verena's place on my first night in Vienna. Verena is a Tyrolian lass who I had worked with when she was an editor at Foreign Policy in Washington. Showing the sort of casual-yet-gracious hospitality I aspire to, she ginned up a short-notice dinner party at her seventh-district apartment.

Verena was careful to draw my attention to the pumpkin seed oil she drizzled on the salad: A dark and nutty specialty from Styria that is rumored to have various medicinal, aphrodisiac and magical powers. (Arnold Schwarzenegger is from Styria. Maybe some sort of steroidal power too?)

Sturm und Flex
Alfredo did not want to go to Flex. It wasn't his scene, and he suspected it wasn't ours either. So it was very kind of him to show us the way.

To backtrack for a moment: My boyfriend, L, flew in from a business trip to Brussels. He looked up his Austrian friend Alfredo Barsuglia, who he had met in Montpelier several years earlier while recovering from Internet-bust fallout. At the tender age of 25, Alfredo is successfully building a career as artist. He's a talented painter (here's a self-portrait), and also undertakes conceptual projects, often involving toothbrushes. (He'll have a show at Vienna's MAK, or Museum of Applied Arts, in January, and one at Galerie Gans in March.)

L and I had dinner at Wrenkh, on Bauernmarkt in the first district, where the creatively modern wood-and-metal design is matched by such creatively modern menu items as steamed flavor packets tied up with string. Alfredo met us after dinner. A roll of posters from his recent Venice exhibition poked out of his backpack.

Skeptical regarding Flex, Alfredo nevertheless led us through the bar-intensive area the Viennese call "the Bermuda Triangle," along a busy road, and down a set of stairs onto the bank of the Danube Canal. Once an international icon of underground clubbing, Flex has, at 10 years of age, evolved into a quasi-respectable Vienna institution. But only quasi. It's isolated location means it can make as much noise as it wants, and shows never start before one o'clock in the morning. Kruder and Dorfmeister, the Viennese DJ duo of nineties remix fame, still spin here on a regular basis.

To Alfredo's surprise, Flex had undergone a facelift: A new metal railing now keeps outdoor revelers from falling into the canal, and the bar area has expanded. It was packed with a crowd of ticket holders for Turntable Rocker, among them a long-lost friend of Alfredo's, so our foray thankfully wasn't a write-off for him. I helped Alfredo tape up a poster from his exhibition, amid bills for Billy Idol and Franz Ferdinand concerts. L said Flex reminded him of CBGBs.

After Flex we followed Alfredo's lead to a favorite place of his, the Kunsthallen Café. It's housed in a low glass box with the Kunsthalle Project Space, an art gallery. It's tables and low-lying sofas were mostly full, but the vibe was significantly mellower than at Flex. We stayed until last call, drinking large glasses of a cloudy, sweet apple cider called sturm.

Find more food and nightlife destinations in Vienna by visiting coolcapitals.com.