The Ludlow Suit. (Jackie Snow)

Late into a wedding reception last fall, four male friends gathered around the bar. Like the bride and groom, all four were Dartmouth graduates, guys in their mid-twenties who’d moved to New York after finishing college. Having already been through the most pressing catch-up conversation, their talk turned to matters of fashion: one of them, eyeing another’s slim-fitting suit, asked, “Hey, man—is that a Ludlow?”

He was asking whether his friend’s suit was the most popular cut sold by J.Crew, the Ludlow. Of course, it was. So was his own. Another of the group piped up that he, too, was wearing a Ludlow. Only the fourth said he didn’t own one, unintentionally throwing off the group’s sartorial superfecta. Though, judging from the suit’s ubiquity of late, it was only a matter of time.

“I remember that conversation!” said Don Stewart, of the Ludlows in the group. Mr. Stewart, 27, works for a digital creative agency. “We were all wearing them, in different materials and colors. But the cut of it was kind of unmistakable.”

“Hey, man, is that a Ludlow?” has become a mantra among a certain stripe of young New York professional guy. Mike Vilensky, 23, a reporter for the Wall Street Journal’s Heard & Scene page, has heard it, too, when he debuted his Ludlow at the National Book Awards. “That’s how I realized people who are Ludlow recognize Ludlow,” Mr. Vilensky said. Most Ludlows take a unique delight in acknowledging one another as kindred spirits; the last item of menswear that inspired such loyalty and instant identification may well have been the Members Only jacket. “People say that if you’re a drug addict, you have a sixth sense about who would want to party with you—people who wear Ludlows maybe know who else would own a Ludlow,” Mr. Vilensky said. “It’s become that kind of club.”

James Meader, 32, runs the publicity department at Picador and was, when The Observer reached him, wearing a gray Ludlow while driving to a wedding in Kennebunkport. “We’re certainly not talking Cary Grant’s suit from North by Northwest, but J.Crew has come up with a basic, understated suit, and I like that,” Mr. Meader said.

The Ludlow is, indeed, a nice suit, with vaguely Mad Men dimensions: the trousers are narrow, and the single-breasted iteration of the jacket has a two-and-a-half-inch lapel and rounded front corners. In addition, several elements are, discreetly, flattering: a lightly padded shoulder, which lends a more masculine silhouette, and a shorter-cut jacket, which makes men look taller.

It isn’t a bespoke suit—though with proper tailoring it might fool an untrained eye—and it isn’t exclusive. In fact, it’s just a good-looking suit from a mass-market retailer. That may be exactly why it appeals to the Ludlow brotherhood: it’s cool, but not dangerous. “It’s a well-fitted suit,” Frank Muytjens, the head menswear designer for J.Crew, said simply. “It is skinny, but not too skinny—it is still socially acceptable. And it’s still a modern suit without it being too edgy or too trendy.” It’s not Thom Browne, but neither is it Men’s Wearhouse.

“Too edgy” is a genuine concern for the young Ludlow, who tends to look put-together but not be overly concerned with men’s fashion. The Ludlow is the first suit many young New York men buy on their own, after years of boxy hand-me-downs from their fathers. “It’s the first suit I’ve ever owned where I’m like, ‘This suit fits,’” said Raphael Pope-Sussman, 23, a reporter for a policy website. “I don’t look like I’m at my own bar mitzvah.”

“I was sold the minute I put it on,” said Dave Cirilli, 34, a publicist with Sunshine Sachs who bought a Ludlow tuxedo for the Golden Globes. “I went, I did it, it was perfect; it almost felt like fate.” With the tux on, he said, he feels “a little bit more badass.”

Beyond the cut, though, the brotherhood of the Ludlow is about the experience. “I think a lot of smart-dressing younger guys have this fantasy of going into an old tailor shop and ordering a suit. The smaller space, the expertise of a real tailor, the wood paneling, all that. The reality is, that sort of experience is out of their price range,” suggested Darrell Hartman, who sometimes writes about menswear (but does not own a Ludlow). “For a lot of guys who go into the J. Crew men’s shop in Soho, buy a Ludlow suit there and then have it altered for them, there’s a satisfying version of independent tailor-shop experience.

On a recent Saturday morning, The Observer promised our boyfriend we would buy him lunch if he’d come with us to that same Soho shop to try on a Ludlow. The store director is a charming, dapper 33-year-old man with a rather weightily literary name: Tremaine Romeo. Mr. Romeo, who goes by Tre and owns a Ludlow in every color, said a single salesperson in the Soho store once sold 17 Ludlows in a week.

It’s a welcoming place to buy a suit, soundtracked by Pitchfork-approved bands like Girls and Beach House and peppered with tongue-in-cheek “manly” décor – a display of taxidermied birds in the fitting room, for instance. Mr. Romeo thinks the shop, and the Ludlows inside of it, are at the forefront of a sea change. “The more men’s shops you open up, the more comfortable they feel coming into the store, shopping together. It’s strange; you’ll see a bunch of frat boys coming in to shop,” he said. “Two, three years down the line, it’ll just be the norm. Your husband or your boyfriend is going to say, ‘I’m just gonna go out with the guys and shop.’”

The idea doesn’t seem so far-fetched in an era in which men both straight and gay see nothing strange about noticing another man’s suit, identifying it, and using its name to start a conversation. The Ludlow provides the rare masculine safe space to talk about clothes without seeming prissy: it’s a cool suit, after all, but it’s also one that’s available to any man with a thin-to-average frame and $650 to spend. Maybe what makes the cult of the Ludlow so exciting for the young men who own them is that it feels like uncharted territory: just a couple of dudes, talking about their suits, being Ludlows.

As with all fraternities, though, there comes a time in a man’s life when other concerns trump loyalty to the brotherhood. For some, a year or two of Ludlowing can whet an appetite for the next sartorial step, a suit that other men can’t immediately recognize. To revisit Mr. Vilensky’s drug analogy, the Ludlow may be the gateway suit that gets young men into the harder, bespoke stuff.

“I’m still looking for my perfect suit,” Don Stewart said. “The next thing I get will probably be tailor-made.”

editorial@observer.com

Men's Fashion Week may have wrapped up in Paris on Wednesday, but a few New York gents invented an entirely new trend Thursday evening at the Park Avenue Armory: suits paired with duck boots. The Observer spotted several guys at the Winter Antiques Show's Young Collectors Night sporting the fashionably questionable but seasonally necessary look-including one brave young man in full white-tie top hat and tails, with his trousers tucked carelessly into a large pair of the snow-defeating boots.

The ladies, of course, wouldn't dream of pairing David Meister cocktail dresses with rubberized footwear; but even their Louboutins were shorter-heeled and rounder-toed than we're used to seeing. Among the dozens and dozens of exhibitors' booths fully stocked with furniture, art and curios, many of the women made a beeline straight for Macklowe Gallery and its sizable collection of Art Nouveau jewelry. "It's like asking, 'What's your favorite child?'" Macklowe employee Bernard Cohen said when we asked him to show us his favorite piece. "I love this piece, I love this piece, this is sensational," Mr. Cohen went on, gesturing to some particularly extravagant Van Cleef and Arpels jewels.

"Of course, I love looking at all the jewelry, because I'm such a girl," socialite Whitney Douglass admitted. "Actually, I love looking at all the art. I'm sort of, right now, into contemporary Western art, myself. But I like reeducating myself, and this is the perfect place to keep yourself in the relevant scene of art." As for her own collection, Ms. Douglass favors a 6-foot-wide David Bromley painting her husband purchased for her recently.

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Those who stuck to jewelry and paintings missed some of the show's more fantastical items for sale: a $75,000 signed letter by John Calvin or a sketch of the double-helix model of DNA made by James Watson himself, both at Kenneth W. Rendell Inc.; a first edition of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn at Bauman Rare Books; and an incredible 10,000-year-old fossilized walrus skull at Peter Petrou's booth. "It was dug out of the Alaskan permafrost at some point," Mr. Petrou said. "I just think it's a fantastic piece of sculpture, and the colors-terrific!"

Between noshing on a few of the event's plentiful hors d'oeuvres-notably, a slice of thick fresh turkey with cranberry chutney on a tiny, spongy pumpkin roll-The Observer happened upon Courtney Booth, one of the event's co-chairs, who is the daughter of a pair of antiques collectors and has been coming to the show for years.

Ms. Booth, who wore a fetching black lace Elie Tahari dress, is an American folk art enthusiast, but she had her eye on a singular item of a slightly different nature at the show. "It's a trade sign, which was the 19th-century version of advertising or billboards, that is actually giving you a glimpse of a house of ill repute. It says 'Farmer's Retreat,' but it's described by a four-line stanza, and the first letter of each line spells out 'TART' vertically," she said.

The show's Young Collectors Night, Ms. Booth explained, is designed to demystify antiques for New Yorkers who aren't yet experts. "That's what we're trying to teach with this young collectors' event," she said. "It's not about re-creating your grandmother's living room; it's about taking an amazing trade sign, or-"

A young man interrupted, presumably taking up some unfinished business from a previous conversation. "I remember now," he said. "Greenwich, last June, the polo party!"

"Yes, there you go!" Ms. Booth responded cheerfully, and resumed telling us the purpose of her event without missing a beat. "It's about taking these things and putting them in the contemporary context. I mean, I have country furniture that I hang with Josef Albers prints.

Wendy Goodman, design editor of New York magazine, was intrigued by the textiles, books and paintings on view at the show. But her mind was on loftier things-namely, the East Side Settlement House, the organization to which the night's proceeds would go.

As Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" played in the background, Ms. Goodman told The Observer about a day she spent at the Settlement House, which aims to supplement the public-school system for South Bronx children. "I just was so moved by the people that are so committed to helping the students, and it was an extraordinary day, because I really thought, 'There's not enough that you can do,'" Ms. Goodman said. "All of the money that's raised tonight-if only we could do more." She, along with the rest of the young collectors in attendance, is off to a great start. -Alexandria Symonds

Edited by Daisy Prince

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Once the applause for director Willy Decker’s production came to a close and guests began trickling onto the Grand Tier for dinner, The Observer was kindly invited to sit at one of the two tables hosted by the gala’s chairman, Adrienne Arsht. “I have to show you this!” Ms. Arsht gushed, flashing her wrist. She wore a gift from the Met: a brand-new watch inscribed with “È Tardi” (the Italian for “I’m late,” and a familiar phrase to Traviata fans), its band crimson to match Ms. Arsht’s gown. This was the first year the gala organizers decided to choose a chairman, and Ms. Arsht was the first to receive the honor, so it was fitting that she should be among the first owners of the handsome watch, which is now available at the Met store. She spoke about her dedication to the Met: “I don’t sing, dance or play a musical instrument. So I do what I can. Which is give financial and emotional support.”

As we tucked into a silky chestnut soup with roasted cauliflower, julienned apple and duck confit, we managed a bit of sly people-watching. Keri-Lynn Wilson, the wife of the Met’s general manager, Peter Gelb, and an accomplished conductor in her own right, wore a stunning Zac Posen creation from the spring/summer line (read: not yet available to plebeians). We imagine the dress was met with approval by André Leon Talley, who sat at a long table with Traviata star Marina Poplavskaya, Mr. Gelb, Mr. Decker and choreographer Athol Farmer, who wore a single, dangling pearl earring. Mr. Talley pronounced the opera “stupendously beautiful” when The Observer managed to catch hold of one of his great gold sleeves to say hello.

With the New Year quickly approaching, the surprises kept coming. First, a spoonful of hoppin’ john, a sort of black-eyed-pea casserole traditionally consumed in the South on New Year’s Eve for good luck. “It’s Tyne Daly’s!” Ms. Arsht exclaimed. Indeed, Ms. Daly, who sat one table over, confirmed that she’d made it herself—though not, she demurred, from a family recipe. “No, it came right off the back of the black-eyed-peas bag that came from D’Agostino’s!” she laughed.

Ms. Daly said she loved the performance. “I’m a baby to opera, so I don’t have a lot of things to compare it to. I thought the spareness [of the set] gave an opportunity to hear the music. It was wonderful to hear that music again.”

Another unexpected turn of events: After all the delicious plates of herb-crusted veal and crushed potatoes had been cleaned, Ms. Arsht instructed her guests to lift up their place tags to find another name underneath. This set forth a frenzy of scurrying to find our new assigned seats—and all the couples, who had been separated for the main course, were reunited just in time to sample an array of miniature desserts, sip freely flowing Champagne, don glittery 2011 spectacles served up on silver platters and test out the noisemakers laid at each place setting.

With just a few minutes to go, Mr. Gelb made a brief speech, reassuring the guests that director Franco Zeffirelli, whose sumptuous vision of La Traviata has long been the Met’s standard, had given the new production his blessing. Mr. Gelb also thanked his guests, and he had plenty to be grateful for: All told, the evening raised $900,000. He wrapped up just in time to count down to midnight, and to a final, dazzling surprise: Those who paused for New Year’s kisses missed the beginning of a stunning fireworks show just outside the Grand Tier’s floor-to-ceiling windows. And just when we thought we’d seen the grand finale, giant confetti bombs went off indoors, raining on the awestruck revelers. What a fantastic way to ring in the year.

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One of the major draws of the event each year is the opportunity to see the garden's Holiday Train Show, an annual tradition in which model trains zip past an intricately detailed miniature New York. (Upon asking where dinner would be taking place, The Observer was informed by one friendly staffer that it was "just past the Brooklyn Bridge.") Multiple dressed-to-the-nines attendees took tradition a step further this year, however, and together presented a train show of an entirely different nature: They chose gowns with trains floaty, heavy, poufy and everything in between. Our personal favorite belonged to Tiffin Schwarzkopf, who did an admirable job of ensuring that her delicate, off-white tulle confection didn't have any unfortunate run-ins with unforgiving Louboutin heels.

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The evening's best use of Louboutin, actually, was not a soaring pair of stilettos but a ferocious pair of leopard-print slippers (with slightly menacing spikes), which adorned the feet of Hollywood's king of vintage, Cameron Silver. We found ourselves--along with Mr. Silver's friend, stylist Brad Goreski--wondering exactly what the difference is between a gala and a ball. Could it be that a ball features an increased emphasis on dancing? This one certainly did. (Curious, The Observer looked it up online later: According to the Internet, the difference is that "commoners may attend a gala." That can't be right.)

Before any dancing took place, as partygoers were still filtering into the candlelit arboretum for cocktail hour, we caught Patrick McMullan teaching Ashley Wilcox Platt how to strike an over-the-shoulder pose.

Ashley, what did you learn?

"I learned that this is probably something that they should start a school for," she responded. "People are getting their ears pierced at, what, six months, now? So I would say, probably, eight months. Right after you stand up. I don't think it's too much to ask 2-year-olds to look over their shoulders."

Plaid-clad pal Olivia Sandelman chimed in: "Once you're out of the womb, if you can't stand and pose ..."

"It would make looking at friends' kids' pictures a lot more interesting," Ms. Platt agreed, "if the baby actually brought something to the table."

Ms. Platt, as it turns out, knows a thing or two about pictures: Her holiday wish list this year is topped by a plastic Holga camera, to keep her Canon company.

Event chair Jennifer Creel's biggest Christmas wish is a little less tangible: She's just looking forward to spending time with her three children, home from boarding school. "The biggest Christmas present to me is early Christmas morning, waking up with my children and watching them open gifts, and just enjoying the moment with them," Ms. Creel, who wore a dainty gown in blush pink topped with a furry white jacket, said. "I don't need anything else, besides that."

Yaz Hernández, for her part, seemed surprised when The Observer asked whether she had any special holiday traditions. "Oh my goodness, many! Are you kidding? You're talking to a girl from Puerto Rico!" she exclaimed. "One of the most fun traditions in Puerto Rico is that we gather a group of people and--we're big into the surprise element--we go to somebody's home, maybe at 2 o'clock in the morning, and we bring a serenade. And they open the door, they need to get up and greet us, and a party is built!"

This sounded like the best party The Observer has never attended, so we suggested that Ms. Hernández bring the tradition to New York next year. "All righty!" she responded brightly. So watch out, Park Avenue: This time next year, you may just find Ms. Hernández at your door in the wee hours of the morning. We just hope she brings us along.

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Edited by Daisy Prince

Though the Carnegie Hall concert isn't until Feb. 22, the evening's hosts did a fine job of ensuring that excitement about the orchestra was sufficiently drummed up. So many revelers crowded the upper level of the boutique, sipping Champagne and munching on veal sliders--which several of the diamonds on display matched in size--that The Observer, upon arriving, found it easiest to wait on the stairs.

As it turned out, the stairs weren't such a bad place to watch the comings and goings of the party: It was there that we managed to intercept Mr. Hamlisch, who is one of just two people in history to have won an Emmy, a Tony, a Grammy, an Oscar and a Pulitzer. (The other is Richard Rodgers.) He was in great spirits. "My wife and I care about this; I think it's a wonderful thing," Mr. Hamlisch said. "The orchestra does a lot of things besides just playing and doing tours. They've helped a lot of children, 20,000 people, through enrichment programs. It's a very good cause."

We told Mr. Hamlisch that The Observer comes out on Wednesdays--which, this week, also marks the beginning of Chanukah. "What's great about Chanukah, as you know, in the Jewish religion, it's one of the few happy holidays. You got that, you got Pesach, and everything else, you want to just feel lousy," he replied. "You can just tell your readers that it's eight presents; and you can Google me and you can find out where to send those presents."

"It's eight," he added for emphasis.

Nibbling on mushroom ravioli, we made our way into a peaceful, airy room just off the main upstairs boutique, with a lovely view of Madison Avenue and a center table filled with the largest number of blooming purple orchids we'd ever seen collected in one place. It was there that we caught up with Lauren Veronis, one of the event's co-hosts along with her husband, John. Ms. Veronis explained that in addition to the cocktail party in November and the gala in February, the American Friends of the Israel Philharmonic also puts together a children's day in December. "We introduce the little ones, from 1 year old to about 12, to music," she said. "It's a very brief program, so they don't get distracted."

We couldn't help but ask Ms. Veronis: Had any of the jewels on display caught her eye as wish-list items for the holiday season? "Everything, almost!" she laughed. "I mean, my eye has been caught all night long! Beautiful, aren't they?" Beautiful they were--The Observer was particularly taken with the collection of rare red diamonds.

We also chatted with Leviev's executive vice president, the shockingly young and unfairly gorgeous Lisa Klein, who told us a little about the interior design we admired and emphasized that the customer should find the store relaxing.

The Observer, afraid we might get to feeling too comfortable and forget we have a credit limit, decided to call it an evening. Alas, the gift bags--though generous by any measure--contained not a single diamond. We'll try our luck again at the gala in February.

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Natirar's lineage is at least as impressive as those of its guests. It was originally owned by Kate Macy Ladd, the oil-refinery heiress; the estate and its 491 acres eventually passed into the possession of King Hassan II of Morocco, then Mr. Branson, who has leased it since 2003. The décor is pure Robber Baron opulence, with Oriental rugs, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking an enormous terrace, dark wood paneling and high, intricately decorated ceilings. And art, lots of it: photographs and fantastical, slightly risqué paintings, curated by the Tony Shafrazi Gallery. Once inside, the illusion was furthered by freely flowing Champagne, intricate masks and floor-length evening gowns on statuesque female guests.

One woman who's unmistakable even when masked, Cornelia Guest, co-chaired the event. Ms. Guest donned a plunging pink Donna Karan party dress for the occasion. To accompany the frock, she put a new spin on the masquerade look: a bejeweled pink mask painted directly onto her face, which she had done at MAC Pro. "I figured I wanted to do a change, I didn't want to carry a mask ... and so I brought in and showed them my dress. And the next thing I knew, this was on me, and I love it!"

Ms. Guest has been busy with her new vegan cookie line, but her line is just one of a number of other projects she's juggling: "I'm writing a book," she explained. What's the book about? "Lifestyle, living and sort of getting rid of all the labels that we use. Just basically, it's about good food, loving life, how I live and just very easy, down-to-earth--very basic and affordable."

We were reminded of just how much social power Ms. Guest has when we asked about her favorite Halloween costume of years past. "One year I went as Cruella, and I had two friends of mine, and I dressed them as Dalmatians!" she said. "I think I had more fun than they had. I loved being Cruella, and they arrived in Dalmatian suits; they were like, 'Cornelia, this is not fun.'"

Other guests at the party included supermodel Veronica Webb dressed provocatively in a spiky metal bustier that made her closely resemble a sexy hedgehog from space. Gossip Girl's Matthew Settle made a brief masked appearance, as did Vanity Fair publisher Edward Menicheschi. 

In the evening's most memorable moment, the Grammy-winning opera singer Nathan Gunn made it halfway through his set of eerie cabaret songs, but had to stop when a guest literally swooned and fell to the ground during a German aria. She's fine, thankfully--but The Observer shamefully admits to wondering whether this might be the start to a surprise murder-mystery fixture at the mansion. (Just us?)

As the evening wore down, the waiters passed miniature pink-peppercorn ice cream cones and grape-and-gorgonzola macaroons. Finally, stragglers were ushered back to Manhattan secure in the knowledge that Natirar is every bit the slightly surreal palace one hoped it would be. 

During cocktail hour, while white-jacketed waiters waltzed past with trays of tuna tartare, beef carpaccio and Harry Cipriani's famous Bellinis, The Observer managed to snag the more reticent Mulleavy sister for a chat. The Mulleavys, it turns out, are on a bit of a ballet streak: They designed the costumes for One Thing Leads to Another, which premiered last Friday night at the Dutch National Ballet; it was choreographed by the very in-demand Benjamin Millepied, with music by composer-of-the-moment Nico Muhly. The sisters also designed costumes for the upcoming Darren Aronofsky film Black Swan after being personally recommended by its star, Natalie Portman (Mr. Millepied's girlfriend).

The Mulleavy sisters love the show Murder, She Wrote. It was perhaps an act of fate, then, that its star--stage and screen legend Angela Lansbury--was also due to receive an award on Monday evening. "I think it's just a coincidence, but let me tell you that it's been all we've been talking about since we found out," Ms. Mulleavy assured The Observer. She went on to explain that she and Kate had, as children, even gone so far as to write and stage a murder mystery. "We dressed everyone in vintage clothes, and they looked like they were in an Agatha Christie book," Ms. Mulleavy said.

As for Jessica Fletcher herself, Angela Lansbury--wearing a sumptuous black velvet skirt suit with a ruffled jacket--appeared delighted to be the recipient of the gala's Lifetime Achievement Award. She's famous for her range, but one particularly significant performance was her turn as Mrs. Nellie Lovett in Sweeney Todd. "It was really a very definitive role for me, oddly enough," she said. "Because it incorporated all of the comedy that I've always had in my head and in my feet, you know? I'd never had a chance to let it out, but in Sweeney Todd, I really did. I always had to sort of hold myself back and play rather straight roles, but in that, I was able to let it rip. And it turned out to be one of the best things I'd ever done. That is very dear to me," she concluded, fixing us with her famously bright blue eyes. 

Ms. Lansbury also admitted she's a big fan of another of the evening's honorees: Herb Alpert, the eight-time Grammy Award-winning trumpeter, composer and singer. And Ms. Gordon wasn't the only celebrity presenter: Journalist Bill Moyers, powerhouse theater director Harold Prince and Lincoln Center Festival director Nigel Redden also took the stage to pay tribute to the artists.

All the honorees received a very special award: Jeff Koons, himself a National Arts Awards recipient back in 2006, custom-designed a large, gleaming, golden balloon-rabbit statuette for the event. While waiters brought around lamb and potatoes au gratin, we stole away to pay a visit to Mr. Koons' table. Noting The Observer's 6-inch heels, he politely got up from the table to speak to us.   

Once we could see eye-to-eye, we asked Mr. Koons, in light of the Americans for the Arts commitment to arts education, whether he'd had any particularly influential art teachers. "I had a woman named Mrs. Miller, and Mrs. Miller actually had one hand that was deformed," Mr. Koons replied. "She really didn't have a hand; she just had little nubs for fingers, and she was my art teacher, and she helped teach me how to draw and to be able to reproduce images," he continued fondly.

"In Europe, it's almost taken for granted, the role that the arts play in everyday life. In the States, if it's involved with Hollywood, then O.K., maybe it's culturally relevant. But the Americans for the Arts really do celebrate all the arts, and their cultural relevance in everyday life," Mr. Koons said. 

And what about that rabbit? "It's an optimistic image--it's one that also is kind of a symbol of fertility," Mr. Koons said of his design for the award. "And there's something that's almost like a sun goddess about it, also. But it's just a joyous image." 

Most, like Tina Fey and host Jon Stewart, were comedy types who clean up nicely; but we also spotted Tom Brokaw, Naomi Watts and Tommy Hilfiger (who proudly informed us he's an Observer subscriber). During the evening's auction, Ms. Watts pledged $10,000 for the honor of having Steve Carell simulate an orgasm onstage using her name; her partner, Liev Schreiber, howled with laughter in the audience.

Daily Show correspondent John Oliver cleared something up: Any special gravitas we might hear in his voice can be attributed entirely to his accent. "It's because I'm British. ... This voice sounds disproportionately smart to American ears," Mr. Oliver explained authoritatively. We were curious whether the effect goes both ways--do Americans sound stupid to him? "Yes, they do, yeah. Always, without exception," he deadpanned.

Even his boss, Jon Stewart? "Yep. Absolutely. To me, he just sounds like some Jersey guy shouting at traffic every day," Mr. Oliver replied, immediately calling to mind a few Rick Sanchez jokes we decided not to make. (Mr. Stewart, though, addressed the Sanchez scandal just a few minutes into his opening monologue.)

Fellow Brit Ricky Gervais gracefully bowed out of a question about politics: "I can't think of anything, without sounding glib," he said when The Observer asked what he considers the most absurd thing about the American political system. "I always worry about when they ask comedians about politics, you know what I mean? It's like when you hear Lindsay Lohan say, 'I'm going to vote for the black one!' I don't know enough."

Sarah Silverman wore an Alice + Olivia cocktail dress to the show, but had changed into a more comfortable ensemble by the time we ran into her at the after-party, a swanky affair held at the Museum of Natural History's "whale room." Guests munched on seemingly infinite hors d'oeuvres and downed Ketel One cocktails; and though the DJ was perfectly competent, this group proved not to be much for dancing--they preferred to stand around in small, well-dressed groups, trying to make each other laugh. Joel McHale, in a J. Lindeberg sweater vest, proved that his cocky personae on The Soup and Community aren't true to life: He was sweet as could be, greeting everyone who approached him with equal enthusiasm.

We also chatted with comedians Lewis Black and Jim Gaffigan, and the viral-video star Tay Zonday, before catching up with Soledad O'Brien, the CNN anchor, who looked lovely and comfortable in a fuchsia David Meister frock. "Journalists, we call them journalists!" Ms. O'Brien exclaimed when we referred to her job as a "news personality."

Ms. O'Brien also told us that she had a strategy for how to avoid betraying her political sympathies by getting caught laughing at certain jokes. "This is the 'TV Anchor Neutral Face,'" she explained, breaking into a wide, pleasant, noncommittal smile. "That's not really laughing, that's not not laughing, it's just--middle," she went on. "I've been in the business a long time."

Inspired by the savvy Ms. O'Brien, we were feeling generous when we encountered Olivia Munn, the Daily Show correspondent who made waves when she was hired, allegedly, for her looks rather than her brains. (To confirm the obvious: She is gorgeous.) Tell us what you're reading, Ms. Munn!

"Um, anything that has pictures in it," she responded. Sigh--at least we tried.

--Alexandria Symonds

When we happened upon the Mayor's youngest daughter, 27-year-old Georgina Bloomberg, we congratulated her on another formidable equestrian season -- Ms. Bloomberg took home $30,000 last month after winning the Bluegrass Festival Grand Prix in Kentucky. Did she have any time to follow the midterm elections between horse shows?

"I follow it as much as I have to, but I tend to stay out of politics as much as I possibly can," Ms. Bloomberg said. "I think as a politician's daughter, I have more of a sensitive side to it, and I sympathize a little bit more with them as people, not politicians. And it's hard to kind of watch that and see the negative ads, and things like that -- I don't just see the politicians, I see their families, and I see the way it affects their kids or their wives." Sounds reasonable to us!

In the spirit of the cause, multiple notables came prepped with their best doggie tales. American Ballet Theater principal Marcelo Gomes, who took the stage later in the evening with his dachshund, Lua, told us a slightly harrowing one: "I once pulled on my dog's tail really, really hard, and it broke. Well, it fractured," he said, which didn't seem much in keeping with the night's program. How long ago did this happen? "I was very, very young. I didn't know my strength at that moment. But it healed, thank God, and we're all very happy," Mr. Gomes said. "I was crying for about, like, a month or so." Thank goodness he's channeling his strength more productively these days.

Socialite and Interview magazine contributor Fabiola Beracasa currently owns three "death-row" dogs, whom she rescued from being euthanized at the eleventh hour. She promised to tell us a lighthearted anecdote about one in particular, Savannah, but it started out on a rather sobering note: "His temperament is, he's just the nicest dog in the world. And he had been shot in the mouth," she explained, then insisted, "This is a funny story!" And it was, eventually! Apparently Savannah needed to have a metal fixture put into his jaw for a few months to stabilize it while it healed. "So I'm walking down the street with my dog Savannah, who looks like Lady Gaga, because he's got this thing, right?" Ms. Beracasa continued.

"And I run into Terry Richardson, who I know... and he's like, 'Do you mind if I take a picture of your crazy Lady Gaga dog?' and I said sure. And then I'm flipping through French Vogue a few months later, and there's my crazy Lady Gaga dog, in French Vogue!" Ms. Beracasa laughed. "I told you it was worth it. So I run into Terry and I'm like, 'So listen. I've been trying to get into French Vogue my whole life!'"

French Vogue, listen up: it must be noted that Ms. Beracasa looked stunning in a knockout silver-spangled Valentino minidress with a bolero blazer covering her shoulders. "It's like a really strapless dress, and I believe in only showing one body part at once, at a time, you know?" Ms. Beracasa said. "A long sleeve, a short skirt, or vice versa. You know who taught me that? Margherita Missoni's a really good friend of mine, and her grandmother told her that." (Margherita's grandmother is Rosita Missoni, who co-founded the eponymous clothing line in the 1950s with her husband, Vittorio. We'd take her sartorial advice, too.)

The musician and committed animal-rights activist Moby, who emceed the event, insisted he had the best dog story of all. "When I was about ten years old, I was walking by my town dump in Darien, Connecticut... And I heard a little mew. And I looked in a box and in this box were five dead kittens who were about ten days old, and one barely-alive kitten," Moby explained. "So I picked up this barely-alive kitten, eyes closed, just mewing, and I ran home. My mom and I took it to the vet, and the vet said, 'Look, don't get attached to this cat, because he's very young, he's very sick, he won't survive.' And so we took him home, prepared for the cat to die. And our dachshund, George, became the mother to the cat and nursed the cat back to health... Where literally like, the cat would pee and poo all over itself, George would clean it up."

"So George became the cat's mom, and the cat lived to be 19 years old," he finished triumphantly. Awww.