While the other Inn, the Beatrice, faces an uncertain future, and Graydon Carter is getting ready to open his approachable Monkey Bar, his Waverly Inn restaurant sounds easier to get into than Marc Jacobs' pants.

We already heard from one patron that the Vanity Fair editor's West Village fixture (of the past few years) has been c'mon in! welcoming of late, and now another tipster tells us much the same:

I just took a stroll over to the Waverly Inn to make a reservation for my boss for tonight. I walked in, sat down, talked to the very friendly reservationist who worked off her laptop, and got a reservation. It's that easy! My boss isn't even a celebrity. Is the Waverly slipping? I was expecting to have to beg/cry, and was fully prepared to do both. I guess the recession has trimmed down their list of regulars so that the plebes may have a taste of greatness.

Hmm. Used to be that there was a certain strict set of rules one had to follow to get seated at the little haunt. But that was back in dusty old August, before we blotted out the sun with our econo-missiles and everyone turned out their pockets.

And to hear the New York Post's remaining batty old gossipeuse Cindy Adams tell it, Carter's new uptown venture, the be-muraled Monkey Bar, is basically as exclusive as the Red Lobster on a Tuesday afternoon:

Unlike superprecious Waverly, this place will actually have a phone number, eventually open for lunches and happily feature comfort food like chili, scrambled eggs, Meatloaf Nora from Nora Ephron's recipe. Prices are reasonable. And with a candle in a glass at each table, lighting's good.

Sounds like an old people place! I mean, with like a telephone and everything! Is this the end of clubhouse dining?