IAMI

ON a chilly winter night, when the temperature dips below 60 degrees, Miami masquerades as a city of seasons. Jackets and boots were on display after midnight one Thursday in late December at the District, where friends comfortably squeezed together on suede sofas, and the courtyard patio rippled with bobbing heads when Billy Idol sang "Dancing With Myself."

As patrons crowded the bar for two-for-one drinks, the bartender, Marko Popovic, passed out small plastic cups of "pichka," a cocktail with a Southern Comfort kick, whose name, he warned, might better be left unmentioned in Belgrade, Serbia. The concoction tastes like a tropical cough syrup, but like the District's décor — a fusion of global hippie and modern minimal — and the D.J.'s mix of 80's club hits and 90's rock and electroclash, the drink works.

No matter what the weather, Thursday nights at the District never really feel like Miami, at least in the fabulously hot and incredibly superficial way the city is famous for, which is why locals who like indie rock and retro pop come to the District each week. In a town where club crowds can look as if they have gathered at a party for "The Swan" pageant, the regulars at the District show off style with Afros and messed-up mullets, geeky chic eyeglasses, thrift shop T-shirts and glam dresses by local designers. Many are second- and third-generation Miamians of Latin descent, but they leave the salsa dancing to their parents. House music, the sound of South Beach, is on permanent exile.

"Here the atmosphere is relaxed," said Adam Zimmon, a guitarist on a break from a recording session in his nearby loft. "It's stylized but not pretentious. These people look like this all the time. It's not like they're getting home from work and putting on their clubbing outfit."

Located in the Design District, part of the rapidly redeveloping downtown area billed as the new urban Miami, the District is itself a sign of the changing neighborhood. Its "new American" menu is tailored for a well-off clientele, which also frequents Grass, an elegant Asian-style lounge across the street. Grass wears the snooty airs of a high-end club. (Hostesses in black stand at the roped-off entrance.) Inside it's a stylish and romantic alfresco space, dotted with black banquettes and low tables under thatched-style roofs.

"The people here are artists, graphic designers, guys in bands," said a promoter, Joshua Menendez, the organizer of the District's Thursday night party. "They're the people who really matter in Miami."