Sayonara, summer! Wake up this morning and realize that the “season of frivolity” is basically kaput , that you forgot to get a tan and a boyfriend who doesn’t wear big, clunky, shiny black shoes and dance around (hop, hop, hop, swoosh !) to MTV while he gets dressed , and you’re still not sure whether Amagansett is a Hampton or not …. But on the bright side, you avoided those squalid Hamptons all summer, so your integrity is beautifully intact! Back-to-school news: Plucky Stuyvesant High kids , who have already managed to write a book about their Sept. 11 trauma (are we cynical to point out that this isn’t exactly gonna hurt their college applications?), began their term yesterday; meanwhile, jut-jawed Brearley girls -fortified by a summer of tormenting beta girls at horsey camps -clip on the charm bracelets and march off to class today, along with the nubile Nightingale-Bamfordians. And back in the high school of New York media, GQ editor Art Cooper throws a party for his magazine’s 45th anniversary , with special guest star pop pianist Vanessa Carlton , who seems a little bit young for their demographic, but what do we know? Mr. Cooper was out of the office, seemingly still on vacation, but event designer David Stark promised us a wild, wild evening: “It’s a fun, creative, crazy little project,” he said, “crazy art installations, everything crazily lit,” including a 10-by-10-foot bed covered with “mounds and mounds and mounds of pillows.” What, was Boy George unavailable? Meanwhile, Fashion Week has been moved to Sept. 18 out of respect for the Sept. 11 anniversary ( we don’t envy anyone the task of having to explain to Lucky editors, once again, why Sept. 11 is an important date ) . Tonight, Elle publication director Gilles Bensimon and his wife get an early start by throwing ” Afridesia, ” a party for three South African fashion designers . We’re told the whole space will be blithely decorated in gold and each guest’s champagne flute will contain gold leaf, as if the recession were a mere figment of our idiot imaginations.
[ GQ party, 110 University Place, 7 p.m., by invitation only, 800-787-3999; Afridesia party, Paris Commune, 41 Bleecker Street, 6:30 p.m., by invitation only, 242-9353.]
Frog boy, meet naughty girl …. Author Adam Davies , who used to be an editorial assistant at Random House, busts out with The Frog King , a novel about … a peon in the editorial department of a big publishing house! He gets a party at Michael’s with friendly gossip columnist Liz Smith , jolly movie director Joel Schumacher , justifiably testy VanityFair writer Dominick Dunne and fearsome literary agent Esther Newberg. ( General warning for all partygoerstonight: There is some huge N.F.L. kickoff extravaganza in Times Square, and we think the rock group Poison isperformingor something-all of which will make cab procurement very, very difficult.) Back to Mr. Davies: “Probably the funniest young-guy-in-New York novel since Bright Lights, Big City ,” raves Bret Easton Ellis , in an act of dizzying double sycophancy. And it only took us till page 16 to find this bonus dirty excerpt: “I peel off my clothes and squat genuflectively on the floor …. ” We hear The Man Show is hiring, kid. Meanwhile, downtown, husky-voiced author A.M. Homes and her perfectly groomed eyebrows celebrate Things You Should Know , a new collection of stories, and here’s something you should know from page 137: “He slipped the tube of ointment into my ass, pinched my nipples, and sank his teeth deep into the muscle abovemy collar bone.” And that’s exactly the strategy we advise for getting past the publicist guarding the door.
[ Frog King book party, Michael’s, 24 West 55th Street, 6 p.m., by invitation only,
366-2323; A.M. Homes book party, NYC, 75 Greenwich Avenue, 6:30 p.m., by invitation only, 207-7178.]
Eine Klein Nachtmusik – Spence girls prance back to school today, which reminds us: Remember that droopy Alexander McQueen number that Spence alum Gwyneth Paltrow ( Shallow Hal ) wore to the Oscars ? Yecch , right? She used to wear Calvin (“Mr. Clean”) Klein, and that suited her better. Well, tonight both designers are throwing parties-the bawdy Mr. McQueen to celebrate his new store in the meatpacking district; Mr. Klein to raise money for the American Ballet Theatre …. Meanwhile, in Harlem, the “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Fashion Week” crowd swamps the opening fête for a new branch of H&M , the Swedish discount emporium that continues the Vikings’ post-millennial conquest of New York.
[H&M opening, 125 West 125th Street,
6 p.m., by invitation only, 696-8997; Calvin Klein benefit, 654 Madison Avenue, 7 p.m., by invitation only, 929-4203; Alexander McQueen store opening, 419 West 19th Street, by invitation only, 590-5100.]
First Feed , then Heeb , and now there’s Seed magazine, with a glossy vapidity and earnest attempt at substance that recalls George – except it’s about science . Cool ! Editor in chief Adam Bly, a mere sapling at 21, has flown down from Montreal, where he founded the magazine after dropping out of McGill-where, like all future magazine editors, he did cancer research. “Montreal is a fabulous city to go for a weekend, but not to build a media company,” he said from his temporary digs at the Hudson Hotel. Right. What’s the deal with the title? “It needed to look good and sound good, and it needed to look good with the word ‘television’ afterward . I mean, science is this isolated culture that we keep perpetuated in the pages of Scientific American and Discover , but it’s much more creative .” How this translates: an Anne Heche profile! Tonight, Seed launches itself with a big “science is hip” party featuring D.J. Johnny Dynell. Beware McGill grads doing strange Canadian dance steps.
[Eyebeam Atelier, 540 West 21st Street, 7 p.m., by invitation only, 255-8455.]
Tennis stars play dress-up! But first : The lazy, rich bohemians of Friends Seminary stub out their joints and go back to school today. Now here’s a memo to Jennifer (“I don’t know what Title IX is”) Capriati: If you are drummed out of the U.S. Open by today, you might consider blowing some of your copious endorsement money on a $650 ticket to the International Tennis Hall of Fame’s “Newport in New York” gala, where history’s great contenders-like Rosie Casals, Althea Gibson, Martina Navratilova and Pam Shriver -will be mingling with Roy Emerson, Rod Laver, Stan Smith and the like. Is that a toupee on John McEnroe’s head?
[Waldorf-Astoria, 301 Park Avenue, 7:15 p.m., 843-1740.]
Rosh Hashana-na-na began last night, our Precious is fussing over the kugel , and we think there’s a carp in the bathtub -so we’re heading uptown to find some jangly earrings at a prematurely cozy Autumn Crafts Festival.
[64th Street at Columbus Avenue, 11 a.m., 973-746-0091.]
Goils who like boids! So it’s a sleepy Sunday-and there’s little we love more than a sleepy Sunday- but this chick Jennifer Monson has choreographed something called The Osprey Migration , a 10-week dance tour that follows the southward migration of ospreys from their nesting sites in Maine , and today she and her dancers stop in the Bronx , though the ospreys may have a different idea. “I first became interested in birds when I lived in Williamsburg -they fly a lot of pigeons on rooftops because the buildings have such low roofs there,” Ms. Monson, an earnest 41, told special Eight-Day Week correspondent Noelle Hancock. “These Puerto Ricans would fly the pigeons, and it was something I always loved watching-it’s very beautiful. The process made me think of homing pigeons and their relationship to home, and my own relationship to home. Like the birds, I, too , have a very keen sense of direction. When I get off of a plane, I immediately know which direction north is.” That must come in handy!
[Wave Hill, the Bronx, 4 p.m., 718-549-3200.]
Juliana Margulies or Julianne Moore? Oh, heck-why not both ? … The spoiled youth of Dalton hide their Ecstasy tabs and roll back to school this morning. Meanwhile, the city’s actors and actresses have been busy rehearsing for two big theatrical marathons pegged to the Sept. 11 anniversary. At Town Hall, you’ve got Brave New World : Ms. Margulies, Jill Clayburgh and Kristin Davis do stuff that actors do, playwright John Guare premieres a new play, and Eve Ensler reads a poem about- mirabile dictu -something other than vaginas. Meanwhile, in the rich-bohemian West Village, actors Julianne Moore (oops-she just dropped out), Billy Crudup and Marisa Tomei take part in The 24-Hour Plays -they’ll be performing plays that were only written last night . In other words, the plays probably kind of stink, but who cares-the performances benefit school arts programs! (Incongruous sponsor:
[ Brave New World , Town Hall, 123 West 44th Street, 8 p.m., 414-2993; The 24-Hour Plays , Minetta Lane Theater, 18 Minetta Lane, 8 p.m., after-party to follow, 310 West Broadway, 307-4100.]
Opera eats Manhattan! Button up your brocade jackets : The New York City Opera’s opening-night gala unleashes Puccini’s Il Trittico ( Il Tabarro, Suor Angelica and the apparently rollicking Gianni Schicchi ). Downtowners wishing to avert mounting Sept. 11 commemoration overload can try Signal to Noise, a group exhibit of light and sound. “The room will be darkened,” said curator, artist and punk-rock drummer Heather Wagner, 33 . “There will be four different art works flickering or buzzing or making noise or light. It’s interesting and theatrical and not like a science project.” (Don’t tell that to Mr. Bly- see Sept. 5 above -he gets very huffy when people mock science projects!) “I hope it’s not spooky-looking. I guess there will be wine and cheese and fruit. It will be an art crowd, but there will also be a sound crowd, and probably a little bit of a geek crowd as well.” Bring them on, baby, bring them on !
[New York City Opera opening-night gala, New York State Theater, 20 Lincoln Center, 8 p.m., 870-5570; Signal to Noise, Location One, 26 Greene Street, 6 p.m., 334-3347.]
Stay home and pull the covers over your head.