Robert Downey Jr. is so animated in conversation that his hyperactive hands inadvertently send utensils flying off the table. But the 40-year-old actor has good reason to be chipper. After a well-documented dark period, the 1992 Oscar nominee (Chaplin) is back from the brink. He stars as a thief turned actor in the nourish Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang, the first of seven new films. A veteran clotheshorse whose taste has run from punk to Perse, Downey is now more focused on work, fatherhood and his second marriage, to film producer Susan Levin.

With a full slate of movies on the horizon, it seems you've never been busier. How do you assess this personal renaissance?

I probably should have tried it before. I've got so much to be grateful for when I think about it. A lot of my buddies who were every bit as talented, capable and, at times, reckless as I was are not necessarily busier than they can handle. I've found a lot more stuff lately that's good. I'm no better or worse than I ever was, but I'm not stuck in that eternal postadolescent pattern.

You turned 40 this year. Was that a milestone?

Under ideal lighting circumstances - the kind of perfect light you get if you flip down the visor in a car at night - I wear it well. I've been going back and forth with the [giving up] smoking thing. I'll probably give it another shot tomorrow with more success. It's gotten to the point where my kid [Indio] wrote a rock song called "Smoking, Choking", which is about me not committing to quitting. I'm going to surprise him.

If clothes are a language, what do yours say about you?

Mine speak pidgin English! I could be the darling of Sotheby's now if I had saved things like Matsuda ties and Gaultier jackets from 1986 that had everything but AA batteries attached. I left them on locations, in girls' kitchens, dance clubs. I know people who still have their first Memphis Belle bomberjacket - how do they do it?

You were a metrosexual long before they coined the term.

Please! It's important. Almost every day I change at least three times. If I go away for a weekend, I swear to God I need the biggest Samsonite you can imagine. Everybody underestimates how much they need for a weekend to not have to repeat or do laundry - unless you're one of those funky bunch who say, "I'll just put a jacket on over this." Even when I was doing time, I didn't have that attitude. I'll get to my Dan Haggerty period at some point, I'm sure.

Of all the characters you've played, who had the most compelling style?

I still have a bunch of stuff from Chaplin. I was so skinny, and the clothes were tight, so they'll fit my kid before me. In Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang there was a lot of James Perse and Helmut Lang, plus Nike Shocks with lifts in them so I didn't look 15 inches shorter than Val [Kilmer].

As a young actor in New York you went around in a trenchcoat and gel-spiked hair. Any other regrettable style episodes?

Hell, yeah. I remember going to the Oscars in 1993, and Deb Falconer and I went to Richard Tyler, and he did us up in a big way. And I said, "Damn, she's not going to be taller than me this year, not on my night," and I wore these Ziggy Stardust platform shoes. Imagine leather shoes with five Goodyear tires on the bottom.

How has fatherhood changed you?

It's been very gradual. People will say how patient I am - as if that was a virtue I couldn't possibly possess, like I'm the poster boy for bad behavior. Fatherhood is about being of service. It's a real point of pride to see your bloodline. He's turned me on to so much stuff. Kids today are supersmart and a little tripped up because of the world we live in.

You meditate, do martial arts and "saging" - which is what?

It's a Native American ritual using sage to clear the energy out of whatever area you are in. And I'm into my fourth year of Wing Chun kung fu. I'm a medium blue, halfway to a black sash. We don't use belts, we, do sashes - which is a lot more fashionable when you think about it.