Like George Costanza wanting to drape himself in velvet (if it were socially acceptable), Wayne Shulick -- the man responsible for opening the designer dungaree chain stores Smith Bros. Jeans throughout the area -- is awash in denim. But for Shulick, it's not just about the kids whose hips have gone numb from the constant hugging of Miss Sixtys; Shulick has taken his obsession with the fabric one step further.

Along with Michaels Silverman and Churbuck and Chris Cwienkala, Shulick has turned his obsession into DENIM, a tony Walnut Street nightclub and restaurant that promises true exclusivity, VIP treatment (like private lockers, mezzanines and bathrooms) and, of course, more jeans swatches than a Diesel catalog.

One week before opening (the club had its grand opening in late January), construction workers on a dozen Genie crane-lifts are busy drilling and painting. One worker asks Shulick if he's doing anything, and is granted a sarcastic "no" in response. Shulick's tone reveals his raw nerves as he faces the opening of his first nightspot -- one he wants to be different from any other "so-called" VIP/luxe lounge in town, one that he's spent a rumored $2 million on.

"To tell you the truth, the buzz is so strong and the anticipation so high for this, I'm a little nervous," Shulick says.

To some, denim represents the hard labor of Levis or the casual cool of Calvin Kleins. But in the same way that denim fashions have become chic for fine dining and nights on the town, DENIM hopes to appeal to Philly's fabulous folks with moolah to burn. "Denim is the great American fabric. Philly is the great American town," says Shulick. "You know what, even if I didn't own a jeans store, it's a great name."

Shulick, 39, got the idea for DENIM on a golf jaunt through Scottsdale, Ariz., where he happened onto that town's groovalicious Six lounge, a club known for its laid-back vibes -- from an aesthetic, crowd and musical standpoint. Shulick wanted his club to be like Six -- hip and modern, but cozy. "I wanted someplace where you could eat at nine o'clock -- or at one -- and not have a reason to go anywhere else."

When he returned from Arizona, Shulick contacted Six's designer, Jeff Low, to chat about Shulick's idea to use his store's upscale customer base and his own clean design aesthetic for a club where customer service, plush environs and his favorite fabric would rule. "I had no idea, at first, what the competition was like or what the need for this sort of exclusive location was," Shulick says. "So I ran around town on a fact-finding mission and decided DENIM was needed."

While Shulick envisioned DENIM as something sleek, smart and subtly colored in deep candy reds and dungaree blues, Low came up with the idea to use Philly's all-American history by hanging an American flag made from denim and bicycle reflectors at the front of the club.

"This wasn't about 9/11 or anything maudlin, though that's certainly reason to celebrate and dedicate oneself to [America]," says Shulick about DENIM's patriotic twist. "To me, it signifies both what Philly was and what Philly is: historic and hip."

In an interview with City Paper in May 2002, Shulick promised that DENIM would be comparable to NYC lounges Lotus and Bungalow Eight. Now, despite several setbacks (rumored to be due to building codes and unhappy rivals upset that Shulick and co. snatched up many of their staffers), the current result is pretty stunning, starting with an elevator ride up to a lively foyer with blue fluorescent walls, a chapel's worth of floating votive candles encased in red depression glass and VIP rooms with private liquor cabinets (a cabinet can be yours for about $2,000 a year).

Beyond this entrance is the Crystal Lounge, with a tiny marble table lit from below in orange with big mannequin legs and topped by a Swarovski crystal chandelier, tropical flora and an encircling panel, in case you want to be completely alone. The main room has glowing red-framed mirrors and the "World Bar," a concrete-poured slab. You can also spend your time in the Amber Lounge or in the less pristine, plasma-screen-filled Red Lounge.

It's the VIP mezzanine, though -- rich with royal purples and velveteen throw pillows -- that is DENIM's heart, complete with its own separate entrance (in the back, on Chancellor Street). Other hoity-toity types can reserve private VIP tables within the larger lounge, getting their own phone number to let DENIM know when they're en route.

"Look, like my stores, DENIM's not going to be everything for everybody," he says simply of DENIM's VIP prices, separate entrances and limos-on-call services. "It's more about discretion than exclusivity. Money is the only level of exclusion."