Anne Hathaway, Reynold Levy, Audra McDonald.

As many high-style New Yorkers were fussing over how to select the perfect punk couture for The Met’s Costume Institute gala last week, another social set was breaking out its summer hats and Chanel bouclé, because while punks may get their chaos, ladies will have their lunch!

Never willing to miss a fancy plate of food, Shindigger joined in the festivities at City Harvest’s On Your Plate luncheon last Monday in the ornate Metropolitan Club. There, Martha Stewart dished healthy lifestyle secrets and tips while promoting her new book, Living the Good Long Life.

Ms. Stewart commended City Harvest on its mission of salvaging leftover food for hungry New Yorkers and then plunged into a lengthy yet informative spiel about all things Martha.

Topics discussed: how she became such a queen of the house and home; how she works her 153-acre farm in Bedford, New York; her somewhat bewildering advice that the event’s guests (mostly women, not all that spry) should try standing upside down for one to three minutes a day; and how, after watching the Kentucky Derby, she has now added mint to her daily leafy-green juice blend.

“I don’t use pesticides and weed-killers,” she explained proudly at one point. “I was out mowing this weekend, getting down the dandelions before they went to seed.”

Shindigger had a joyful moment imagining Ms. Stewart mowing all those acres.

“For me, a healthy lifestyle begins with eating right, and I congratulate the Metropolitan Club for serving us such a delicious salad,” she continued. “For dessert, well, my neighbors all had fruit plates. That’s much better. I had one little center of the chocolate molten cake.”

Which elicited more bewilderment from those in attendance. (Aside from Shindigger, it was not a room of dieters.)

A few days later, we headed uptown to Le Cirque, where our gal pal Jean Shafiroff, this year’s chairwoman for the 55th Annual Southampton Summer Gala, was hosting a kickoff luncheon in support of the Southampton Hospital.

The room was alive with the clinking of glasses of Mâcon-Villages and talk about the approaching warm weather.

“Where will you be this summer?” one woman in gargantuan freshwater pearls and an Oscar de la Renta dress cooed to another.

“Saint-Tropez, Capri and Sagaponac,” was the response.

“Usually I’d have you sit with me at my table, but they’re not allowing press,” Ms. Shafiroff said to us with polite disappointment. She added, “There is a lot of poverty in the Hamptons, you know?” And then she went on to explain how important it is for East Enders to give back and support a local hospital. “No one at the hospital is turned away, regardless of if they have insurance or not.”

Of course, luncheons weren’t the only place philanthropists were making a splash last week. Lincoln Center was the place to be for evening merriment, on both Wednesday night (for the New York City Ballet gala) and Thursday night (for Lincoln Center’s own spring gala).

On Wednesday, we ran into designer Joseph Altuzarra, seated in the upper foyer of the David H. Koch Theater, and pressed him for info about the Met Gala.

“I was really pleased with how people dressed,” Mr. Altuzarra said between a first course of lobster and corn salad and a grilled hanger steak with “21 Club” sauce. “I thought people did punk in a really upbeat, not obvious way. I don’t think anyone was really a miss.”

“Alison Williams looked fabulous,” Shindigger interrupted, knowing he had selected the HBO glamazon as his red carpet ambassadress.

“She was obviously my favorite,” he said.

At Thursday’s event, we chatted with Audra McDonald at dinner following her performance at Lincoln Center’s spring gala, which honored outgoing president Reynold Levy and helped raise some $9.4 million.

“I’m always nervous before I do a concert, but because it’s Lincoln Center and it’s kind of a place I’ve grown up, as soon as I step on the stage I go, Oh wait! I’m home,” she said.

The five-time Tony winner said she considers it a privilege to perform in New York. After Ms. McDonald’s beautiful renditions of “Moonshine Lullaby” and “Summertime,” the food became the main attraction. Marcus Samuelsson offered shrimp with dirty rice and lobster rolls, Daniel Boulud served charcuterie, and for dinner, Tim McLaughlin prepared chili and sea salt-crusted filet of beef with fava bean purée.

“I haven’t had a chance to eat a thing yet!” Ms. McDonald said, clutching her James Martin diamonds. “We’ll get some food and free pizza when I get home.”

Speaking of diamonds, we asked her if she had seen The Great Gatsby.

“I haven’t seen it yet. I’ve been rehearsing for this,” she told us. “I can’t wait to see it. Baz Luhrmann always gives you something to look at.”

Kelly Ripa, looking charming in a floral Erdem dress, was also seated at table 27 for dinner. “It’s like wearing pajamas out,” she said of her look. “For Audra, I’ll do anything. She is talent personified.”

Unlike the famed singer, Ms. Ripa did get a moment to enjoy portions of the meal. “I loved the fava bean salad,” she said. “I love fava beans.”

Martha Stewart would be proud.

Cyndi Lauper and Joan Rivers.

“I’m a believer that karma takes care of everything in the long run,” Gabriel Mann, who plays billionaire Nolan Ross on ABC’s prime-time soap opera Revenge, told Shindigger last week in a leathery corner of the Royalton Hotel’s lobby bar. In person, the former model is hardly anything like his über-preppy, vengeful TV character.

“I definitely look forward to creating something polar opposite to this, whether that be in a play or doing Shakespeare somewhere,” he said.

Shindigger suggested he give Broadway a go.

It worked for Vanessa Williams, who seems to be finding success on both TV and the Great White Way.

“It’s always great to be back on Broadway!” the Azadeh Riaz-clad actress proclaimed at the National Corporate Theatre Fund Chairman’s Awards Gala in the ballroom of The Pierre. “Once you’ve made it there, you truly are accepted, and frankly, you have to have the goods, because there’s no faking it on Broadway. It’s the greatest test of talent.”

We agreed with Ms. Williams and then wished the star a happy 50th birthday before she collected her award from James Lapine.

“I guess there’s no hiding that, either,” she said with a toothy grin and an even bigger eye-roll.

By Wednesday, at a press event in the Millennium Broadway Hotel, theater was on everyone’s mind, as the 2013 Tony Awards nominations had been announced the previous evening.

“It’s a dream come true,” exclaimed Billy Porter, who plays leading diva Lola in the hit Kinky Boots, amid a swarm of fellow nominees. “Theater saved my life, plucked me out of the ghetto,” he added in his fabulously raspy tenor. “It means that my life has value.”

Mr. Porter then shared a less serious thought with Shindigger:

“I’m always trying to stay moist during the show—I hate that word,” he cooed. “So I eat a lot of Sour Patch children to induce moisture, and the other night I ate too many and then I choked on my own spit on the stage. That’s not fun!”

This reminded us of a gripe we heard from Santino Fontana, who is starring as Prince Charming in the revival of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella, following a performance at The Collegiate Chorale’s Spring Benefit.

“People have lots of strong feelings about Prince Charming and Cinderella before they see the show,” he said. “The other day, I came out of the stage door after the show with my hat on, and a woman asked, ‘Who’d you play? Were you the raccoon?’”

She refused to believe that he had played the prince. When Mr. Fontana insisted, she said, “Then why are you wearing a hat?”

“I guess she wanted me in a crown,” the actor joked.

Back at the Millenium Hotel, other nominees were starting to tire.

“That’s it!” yelled Cyndi Lauper.

“Can we walk and talk, Ms. Lauper?” one frazzled camerawoman begged, chasing her toward the elevator.

David Hyde Pierce, up for his role in Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike, was considerably calmer.

“I was surprised at how happy I was—our show got six nominations,” he said, though he did have a complaint of his own. “We had a performance where there was a woman in the front row with the crinkliest plastic bag of the loudest chips, and she ate through the entire play.

“At intermission, we were all backstage—Sigourney Weaver and Kristine Nielsen—waiting to go, and we were talking about how incredible it was that this person would crunch through the entire show. She had no idea!”

Before they entered the stage for Act 2, the crunching recommenced.

“We lost it! We couldn’t even look at each other. It was like a contagious disease,” he laughed. “We had to struggle very hard to hold it together.”

The next day, Shindigger met Tony nominee Richard Kind at the after-party for the What Maisie Knew premiere hosted by Cinema Society, Tod’s and GQ at the Gallow Green.

“You’re the only one from your play to get nominated,” we blurted.

“I always thought I was a part of the community; I couldn’t validate that the community felt the same way about me,” Mr. Kind said. “Now they said yes, they said, ‘Come to the party.’”

On Sunday, everyone took a break from the Tony madness to recognize Off Broadway excellence at the 28th Annual Lucille Lortel Awards, hosted by Maura Tierney and Aasif Mandvi. Nominees Vanessa Redgrave, Jake Gyllenhaal and America Ferrera were in the house, as was presenter Zosia Mamet. (Robin Wright spent the evening on the arm of beau Ben Foster, and he never once let go.)

“What he’s created in New York is extraordinary,” gushed Cynthia Nixon, after presenting a lifetime achievement award to Todd Haimes, artistic director of Roundabout Theatre Company. “It seems like his vision goes everywhere, and he does it with such gentleness and humility. Man, if I ran one theater, I’d be like Mussolini!”

Quite a few glasses of red wine later, Shindigger was at the Top of the Standard, guzzling Moët at Peggy Siegal’s splashy Great Gatsby premiere.

“Why weren’t you at the Lortel Awards?” we chided the studly Billy Magnussen.

“I’m not good enough to be invited to that,” he laughed.

“How do you know that? You got a Tony nomination for Vanya!”

“I dunno, I was hanging out with Wendy Williams at the Broadway.com Audience Choice Awards. Her tits are so huge! I loved her.”

And with that, Mr. Magnussen had officially won Shindigger’s heart.

James Brolin and Barbra Streisand.

“Mirella Freni and Pavarotti shared the same wet nurse,” former NYC Mayor Rudolph Giuliani said last week at the Eighth Annual Opera News Awards at The Plaza, sharing a bit of opera trivia before giving the Metropolitan Opera Guild’s distinguished achievement award to the supreme Modenese soprano. “Just imagine the Freudian connotations,” hizzoner continued. “Mirella’s mother liked to say, ‘Guess who got all the milk?’”

Triggering uproarious laughter and a few gasps.

The next morning, Shindigger was still giggling at the Waldorf Astoria for the 2013 Matrix Awards, hosted by Joan Rivers, where pioneering women in media and communications such as Kara Swisher, Joanna Coles, HSN’s Mindy Grossman and Bonnie Hammer received Tiffany & Co. medallions from the likes of Barry Diller, Iman and Ryan Seacrest. Another legendary songstress, five-time Tony winner Audra McDonald, was celebrated as well.

“She has the voice of an angel,” Council Speaker Christine Quinn declared as she bestowed a Matrix on Ms. McDonald. Though it was Ms. Rivers who got in the last line—“Dessert was good, but not worth the calories!”—before hobbling off the stage.

All in all, it proved to be as much of a musical week as a comedic week for Shindigger, though, highlighted by The Film Society of Lincoln Center’s 40th anniversary Chaplin Awards Gala, which honored the epic career of Barbra Streisand and featured a mega-star-studded array of delicious surprises.

“Boy am I excited, this is such a treat!” exclaimed our first surprise, Liza Minnelli, after a standing ovation. “When I saw Barbra perform, I went nuts,” she raved. “I said Mama—it’s just unique and was splendid. She had chutzpah! The real deal!”

Grabbing the mic and a nearby director’s chair, Ms. Minnelli winced, “Now I have to sit down. My back is killing me.” And then she performed such Streisand signatures as “What Did I Have That I Don’t Have?” and “Isn’t This Better” from Funny Lady. (Ms. Streisand would quip later that she had forgotten the former was one of her songs.)

Next, former recipients Catherine Deneuve and Michael Douglas graced the stage.

“Michael and I are very pleased to give you congratulations on this well-deserved honor, and happy birthday!” the French siren purred.

“You were a master,” gushed Mr. Douglas. “It has been my joy over the years to watch you as an artist on stage, and it has been equally as meaningful to be your friend.”

One after another, immortal film stars and celebrity performers paid their respects to Empress Barbra, who sat perched with husband James Brolin in box four, first tier, on the right side of Avery Fisher Hall. George Segal, Amy Irving, Kris Kristofferson and Blythe Danner all said a few words, video felicitations came from Robert Redford and Omar Sharif, and there were musical performances by trumpeter Wynton Marsalis (“Hello Dolly”), songwriter Alan Bergman (“The Way We Were”), and a surprise finale by Tony Bennett.

“She asked me why she should do it,” Ben Stiller said drily as he recounted how he convinced the diva to take her role in Meet the Fockers. “Finally, we worked out the creative details, or as she calls it, ‘the money.’”

The funnyman then introduced his Chappaqua neighbor, who just so happens to be the 42nd president of the United States of America.

“I don’t know why, I just never got the nerve to call him up and hang,” Mr. Stiller laughed. “Hey, Bill, wanna come over and order some vegan pizza and play some video games? Watch House of Cards on Netflix?”

President Bill Clinton, taking in the crowd’s awe and rousing applause, played with the wisecrack. “Ben, I accept your offer, and pretty soon House of Cards will be back on,” the former president pledged. “Meanwhile, we can watch a replay of Meet the Fockers and see Barbra give sex advice to old people—like me!”

Awkward laughter filled the hall as the president quickly mentioned his wife, Hillary, and then continued:

“I am very grateful to The Film Society of Lincoln Center for allowing me, on its 40th anniversary, to give the Chaplin Award to my friend. A friend of my family’s and one of the most gifted and big-hearted people I have ever known.”

President Clinton commended Ms. Streisand for her film work, her philanthropic leadership and her many talents.

“When I was president, we had a small list of members of Congress that we called the ‘Just Say Yes List,’” because they were so dogged that you knew you were gonna give in to them sooner of later,” he recalled. “That’s the way Barbra is. In the end, I would say yes.”

And then it was finally time for Ms. Streisand to take the stage.

“My dear Mr. President, thank you for taking the time to be with us here tonight,” she began.

The divine Ms. Streisand spoke about the power of art in trying times and shared numerous anecdotes from her treasured past. “Ever since I can remember, I’ve been called bossy and opinionated,” Ms. Streisand admitted. “Maybe that’s because I am?”

The audience chuckled, and Ms. Streisand raised her voice: “Three cheers for bossy women!” she said.

And through the standing, roaring gala patrons, we swore we saw Mr. Clinton’s wife, in the third row, beaming.

Dan Stevens

After an all-too-brief West Coast jaunt to Palm Springs and La Jolla for spicy juice cleanses and grueling workouts, Shindigger returned to the New York scene just in time for what one exhausted publicist called “official gala week,” which happened to coincide with the social-calendar assault that is the Tribeca Film Festival.

“It’s going to be a schizophrenic monster,” another publicist griped

The mere thought ruined any lingering benefits of Shindigger’s detox. Nonetheless, the highbrow and jam-packed show must go on.

On Monday night, we toasted Mandy Patinkin at the National Dance Institute’s annual gala and sipped Qui libations beside 50 Cent at the Cinema Society’s screening of Pain and Gain. On Tuesday, Shindigger popped over to Pier 60, where we joined Robert F. Kennedy Jr., Mark Ruffalo and Yoko Ono at Riverkeeper’s Annual Fishermen’s Ball cocktail hour. But we couldn’t stop there.

“I’m starting rehearsal for Shakespeare in the Park next week,” actor Jesse Tyler Ferguson told Shindigger inside the Calvin Klein Collection boutique at a cocktail event benefiting the Human Rights Campaign’s “Americans for Marriage Equality” effort. The Modern Family star explained that he and his fiancé, Justin Mikita, were also busy planning the wedding.

“I am getting married in July,” he said. “We’re Californians right now, but we’re doing the wedding in a state where we’re considered an equal and that’s New York.”

Will you be wearing Calvin Klein Collection? Shindigger wondered.

“We just had our tuxedos made by a great designer. Band of Outsiders,” he said.

We milled about the event along with Christine Quinn, Lloyd Blankfein, Uma Thurman, Neil Patrick Harris, David Burtka, Allison Sarofim, Alan Cumming and model Carolyn Murphy, before striking up a conversation with Downton Abbey leading man Dan Stevens.

“Who’s this?” Mr. Stevens said grabbing Shindigger’s three-piece suit.

“Ted Baker and Armani. Are you in Calvin Klein?”

“I am in Calvin Klein tonight,” he laughed. “I’ve been working with them for a little bit, and I’m thrilled that they were behind HRC. I was involved in Human Rights Watch back in London. It’s nice to continue that involvement now that we’re living here.”

The dashing Englishman went on to explain that, since he began acting in Broadway’s The Heiress and filming a new movie in the city, he and his family have settled nicely into life in Brooklyn.

“We’re sort of New Yorkers now,” he said. “It’s very nice to be out with my wife tonight, without the kids, but I’ve been working pretty hard. It’s that type of place.”

Indeed it is.

By Friday, Shindigger was desperate for a poolside nap in Malibu. Alas, we had Bomb Magazine’s 32nd anniversary gala auction to attend at Capitale. There we spotted art world star Kyle DeWoody, who was being honored along with her mother, Beth Rudin DeWoody. Like us, the lanky social bee yearned for a moment to recharge.

“Tomorrow I leave for L.A.,” she said. “But not for relaxation—for work.”

Sigh.

“There’s a lot competing events between the art and the film worlds,” Ms. DeWoody went on, describing how she was trying to navigate her regular VIP agenda with the added wrinkle of Tribeca. The night before, for instance, we had bumped into her at the premiere of Nicholas Wrathall’s Gore Vidal: The United States of Amnesia.

“Nicholas was always talking about this project, and we all thought it was a joke—a made-up thing. It just never came to fruition,” Ms. DeWoody said of the documentary, which seemed especially relevant in these trying times of troubled political leadership and terrorism. “I had no idea what an interesting man Gore Vidal was. I was blown away.”

But not everyone was in an educational mood by week’s end.

It became clear that some of the genteel folk were getting exhausted at Youth America Grand Prix’s “Stars of Today Meet the Stars of Tomorrow” gala, which took place at the David H. Koch Theater, as the commentary from some of the city’s social set had sharpened.

“She holds a grudge worse than an Armenian and a Turk,” sneered one diva in an Oscar de la Renta gown to another doyenne about some other attendee.

Thankfully, at the table of co-chair Heather Georges, decorated by the likes of Darren Henault, Michael Bassett and Adelina Wong Ettelson, things were considerably more upbeat and witty. The coterie was quite impressed by ballerina Svetlana Lunkina, who recently fled the Bolshoi in fear for her life. On this night, to the joy of ballet aficionados, she was dancing for one of the first times since.

But even at our table, the good cheer soon gave way to snippiness.

“Is that Woody Allen?” Shindigger asked.

“Yes! Isn’t his wife Soon-Yi [Previn] on some board?” came a whisper from across the table.

“Why are there so many cameras swarmed around Karen LeFrak?” someone else wanted to know.

“She composed the music for tonight’s program,” another guest replied, unimpressed.

“Well, she does have an M.A. in music history from Hunter,” Shindigger said in her defense.

“She must have had help,” snapped a gentleman to our left with an eye-roll and a snicker.

Thank goodness everyone could retreat to their corners—if not Palm Springs—for the weekend.

Sasha Cohen and Scott Hamilton.

The majority of New Yorkers rejoiced in last week’s burst of balmy weather. Flowers seemed to bloom as city dwellers shed layers of clothing, and Shindigger was kept as busy as a bee with an overloaded printemps social schedule.

Last Monday night, for example, in a three-hour span, we buzzed from cocktails at New York Academy of Art’s Tribeca Ball in honor of Bob Colacello to flamenco dancing at Ballet Hispanico’s 2013 Spring Gala at The Plaza, and then on to a Peggy Siegal-orchestrated premiere for LD Entertainment’s new film Disconnect.

And yet, in spite of our hurried pace that evening, we still found time for a last hibernal hurrah, as we hit the ice at the Skating with the Stars benefit gala for figure skating in Harlem. This year’s event, held in Central Park, honored designer B Michael and sportscaster Andrea Joyce.

Those in attendance represented some of figure skating’s finest, as well as some of the organization’s strongest supporters: Rhonda Ross, Miss America Mallory Hagan, Carson Kressley, Tamara Tunie, Tara Lipinski, Evan Lysacek and Dick Button could all be found enjoying cocktails around a fast-thawing Wollman Rink.

“I’ve been to this event for years—years!” exclaimed fashion maven Vera Wang, who was a formidable figure skater in her time and is now one of the most sought-after costume designers for today’s competitors.

“My favorite move was a double Lutz,” continued Ms. Wang, who was honored at last year’s event. “I really believe in the importance of sports to empower young women. I think these girls are so amazing for figure skating in Harlem. I think this event is a way of not only giving back to them, but the city.”

Shindigger asked Ms. Wang how her blades were coping with the evening’s warm weather and slushy ice.

“I’ve been on already, and I’m going on again,” she laughed, shifting from one of her white skates to the other. “But it is melting,” she allowed in a loud hush.

Grabbing a glass of red wine, Shindigger then made for Olympic champion Scott Hamilton, who had his Harlicks on and insisted that the 70-degree temperature had actually encouraged him to give the ice a go: “I never bring my skates to this,” he confessed. “But when I saw what the weather was gonna be, I packed them.”

Like Ms. Wang, Mr. Hamilton also fancied the Lutz. “When I was competing, it was always the triple Lutz that was my favorite,” he said. “That was the jump I never missed. When I was performing professionally, it was the backflip.”

We weren’t so sure the 54-year-old would attempt any flashy acrobatics on this night. After a lap around the bar and buffet, Shindigger ran into the bubbly 2006 Olympic silver medalist Sasha Cohen. Had she been on the ice, we wondered?

“It’s better now that the sun is setting. Earlier there were a lot of splashes,” Ms. Cohen warned. “We might need a Zamboni soon.”

Did that mean she wouldn’t be performing one of her signature spins that involve lifting a leg straight overhead?

“I was the first one that did it, so I gravitate toward that,” she said with a big smile—but probably not tonight.

After refilling our wine, Shindigger asked Ms. Cohen how she felt about the event’s mix of booze and skating, especially with so many amateurs slipping and sliding across the ice.

“I think it makes everyone a little more friendly, a little less apprehensive,” she said. “It’s a casual cocktail hour for a great cause. Everyone’s having a good time.”

Off the ice, Ms. Cohen divulged that she was a busy gal, designing a line of custom figure skates for Klingbeil (her preferred brand for competition) and attending classes at Columbia. “I also started a line of socks, and I have a boyfriend, which takes up most of my time. I have to show you his picture,” she giggled, slipping out her iPhone. “I get so excited.”

But can he skate, we wondered?

“No,” Ms. Cohen sighed. “He did buy a skating lesson with me, though, at a charity auction. He hasn’t used it yet.”

The poor guy is probably intimidated to skate with a former U.S. champion.

Before heading off into the night, Shindigger had to say just one more hello. Armed with another glass of wine, we approached Johnny Weir, the popular theatrical skater, who was surrounded by a gaggle of young fans and was sporting some sort of gravity-defying hairdo. Mr. Weir was clearly having a blast, posing and primping for whoever would engage.

When a passing attendee tottered on her toe-pick and nearly splattered—vodka soda and all—into a rink-side table, we asked Mr. Weir for his thoughts on the mixture of booze and skating. He said, “The only people who show up here know how to skate, or at least can hold the wall really well.”

Shindigger could hold back no longer.

“Tell us about your ’do tonight,” we prodded, needing to understand exactly how or why Mr. Weir had styled his hair in such a voluminous coiffure, which resembled a pile of snuggling otter pups.

“I wanted to be something really bold and forward, like Harlem,” Mr. Weir explained with a limber swing of his lemon-hued Céline bag. “So I did balls of Halloween wig underneath a weave. My guy knows to keep balls on standby for me.”

Halloween? we thought. How very out of season.

Mark Consuelos, Kelly Ripa, Andy Cohen.

There was a horn of plenty for Shindigger last week, as invite upon invite boasted gastronomic splendors and choice libations—and none disappointed, from savory amuse-bouche at Monday night’s after-party for Robert Redford’s The Company You Keep to a lavish cornucopia at the AIPAD Photography Show’s Wednesday night opening gala at the Park Avenue Armory. But the most mouthwatering night of all, Tuesday, was sandwiched in between.

The evening began at Food & Wine’s Best Chefs event, as Shindigger embarked on a culinary adventure inside Pranna, the Flatiron District eatery. There, April Bloomfield of the Spotted Pig served haddock fritters with herbed spaetzle, parsnips and mint; WD-50’s Wylie Dufresne offered popcorn soup with shrimp, jicama and tamarind; and Godiva tempted attendees with triple-threat dark-chocolate mousse.

Shindigger indulged foremost in a Santa Lucia Highlands pinot noir.

“Hello! It’s so nice to see you,” yelled celebrity chef Anne Burrell over DJ Harley Viera-Newton’s dance beats. (Just the day before, we had seen Ms. Burrell cooking alongside Michelle Obama.)

Shindigger yearned to gobble more gourmet goodies with the other acclaimed chefs in attendance, like Angelo Sosa and Tom Colicchio, but we had another dinner engagement a few blocks away, and we had almost missed all of cocktail hour.

At the American whiskey bar and restaurant Maysville we found a jubilant Lucy Sykes and a handful of boozy men’s magazine editors littering the bar area. What was the occasion? Gilt Groupe was hosting a rather intimate dinner in honor of Bravo’s Andy Cohen, celebrating the recent release of his book, Most Talkative.

“What a lovely dress,” Shindigger told Kelly Ripa of her blossomy silk frock.

“It’s old. It’s a little old thing. I like to recycle,” she giggled, before telling us about a recent getaway she took with husband Mark Consuelos. “We were in the lower Grenadines. It was beautiful.”

“We should sit down!” interrupted a bubbly but determined Mr. Cohen. (Cocktail hour was now approaching cocktail hour and a half.)

“He is the best,” Ms. Ripa cooed of the evening’s guest of honor. “I feel like we grew up with him, even though we were in different states and we never met. I’d work with him in a heartbeat.”

But Shindigger had gotten distracted while Ms. Ripa sang Mr. Cohen’s praises.

“What’s the deal with the ceiling lighting?” we asked, looking up.

“This is the grid of wherever this is in Louisiana—no, Kentucky,” Ms. Ripa corrected herself. “There is a town in Kentucky that this restaurant is named after.”

“You’ve gotta sit down,” an organizer snapped just then, whisking Ms. Ripa off to a leather booth.

“This will be a meal that I daresay will be amazing,” began Gilt’s VP of men’s editorial and creative, Tyler Thoreson. (For starters, chef Kyle Knall had prepared several knockouts: a quinoa-spring vegetable salad and grilled quail with pigeon peas and cornbread croutons.)

Mr. Thoreson continued, “In some way, I think we’re here tonight because a strange man grabbed me by the back of my collar late one evening at the Top of the Standard. That man is to my left, and his name is Andy Cohen. We were there celebrating the launch of Gilt Man.”

“I had no idea what I was doing at that party!” the man of the hour screeched in his own defense.

“I would say the same if I was being accused of grabbing a strange person by the back of the collar at a crowded bar,” Mr. Thoreson retorted, adding that, in spite of how the two men first met, their relationship has developed into a creative and commercial collaboration.

“The leftovers from tonight’s dinner will be on sale at Gilt.com,” joked Mr. Cohen, quoting one of his snarky tablemates as he took the floor from the Gilt exec. “Thank you, Tyler. I don’t remember that night. Sometimes after my show I grab handsome strangers by the back of their necks.”

“He seems like the gropey type,” hissed one not-to-be-named fashion guru at our table. And then we dove into dinner: slow-roasted arctic char, duck breast and grilled rib eye cap with collard greens.

It was a southern feast that would have horrified even the most moderate dieter. Shindigger, unwilling to enter spring looking like a beached whale, “ducked” out before they served dessert and headed to our next affair.

“These things are too early,” grumbled Judah Friedlander of 30 Rock as we exited the lift and sashayed into the ridiculous $14 million penthouse at 497 Greenwich Street for the Cinema Society after-party for Danny Boyle’s latest film, Trance, starring Rosario Dawson, James McAvoy and Vincent Cassel. “I always miss the movie,” Mr. Friedlander added.

“So do we,” Shindigger confessed.

While the cuisine is rarely the best part of a movie premiere—that honor is generally awarded to the spirits—this event proved a marvelous exception. Shindigger, abandoning beach-body plans, devoured endless plates of Olivier Cheng Catering’s vegan dim sum and noodles as we concluded our food fest.

For a nightcap, we repaired to the rooftop terrace with a glass of red and huddled with Mr. Cassel, looking out on the lit-up city skyline.

“The last time I stayed in New York for a while was when I was shooting Black Swan, but to me the city was really happening back in the days when I was young and used to live here,” Mr. Cassel said in his cooler-than-cool French accent. “Back in the ’80s, when there was Danceteria, I was crazy about New York.”

It’s true, that multistory nightclub has been shuttered for decades. But Mr. Cassel can have his nostalgia, we thought. We’ll take the multicourse menus.

Michelle Obama.

Shindigger doesn’t do early mornings. But when Michelle Obama and her husband (perhaps you’ve heard of him?) come a-calling, we suddenly become quite awake—and available. Thanks to our friend Tim Morehouse, the silver-medal-winning Olympic fencer, we were invited to attend the 135th White House Easter Egg Roll this past Monday.

We set our alarm for 3 a.m., and Shindigger and Mr. Morehouse booked it down to D.C. just in time to be among the first of the 30,000-plus invitees to arrive. Guests included politicians, athletes, do-gooders and lottery-winning families, all of whom would soon wreak havoc on the White House’s South Lawn.

Let’s Move!, the first lady’s initiative to get America’s children fit and active, was the driving theme behind this year’s festivities. By 8.30 a.m., thousands of kids could be seen rushing through obstacle courses, playing field hockey with Olympic team members, shooting hoops, dancing at a series of concerts and even dabbling in acrobatic yoga—all in the Obamas’ backyard.

“I got invited and I couldn’t say no,” NFL star Anquan Boldin told Shindigger during the first social session. “It’s a great opportunity to come and mingle. I’ve heard about this event for a couple years. I was here last year.”

And that wasn’t his first visit to the executive mansion.

“After winning the national championship at Florida State, I got invited,” Mr. Boldin explained. As he had just been traded from the Super Bowl-winning Baltimore Ravens, it was unclear if Mr. Boldin would be coming to visit the president as part of the team’s victory lap.

After some more coffee, Shindigger tried to make friends with Oscar-nominated Quvenzhané Wallis (Beasts of the Southern Wild), with whom we had been escorted through the VIP entrance at the East Gate. She looked spunky in a loud pink-and-rose ensemble, complete with a white-and-magenta puppy purse, and was presently queueing up to enter the White House and kick it with Mrs. Obama.

“What do you do to stay fit?” Mr. Morehouse asked the 9-year-old actress.

“Just dancin’,” she said, crossing her arms with a touch of sass.

“Wanna show us your dancin’ movies?” he asked, bopping to a nonexistent beat.

“Mmmm, mmmm,” she buzzed with an unimpressed look on her face.

A few minutes later, Robby Novak, who plays “Kid President” in a viral video series (and appeared as the “president” in the White House’s April Fool’s Day video), exited onto the Truman Balcony with the Easter Bunny, and thus began the presidential welcome. Jessica Sanchez belted out a rousing rendition of the National Anthem, and then President Barack Obama took the podium.

“When does Bo and Lady Obama come out?” one nearby youngster asked his guardian. Even Mr. Obama could sense he was playing second fiddle on this day.

“And I now want to introduce the star of the Obama family, my wife, the first lady, Michelle Obama.”

Followed by much applause.

“So today, we want you to have a great time. We want you to run around,” Mrs. Obama said. “We’re going to come down and do some Easter egg roll. We’re going to read some stories. But overall, we want you guys to have a good time and keep moving and be healthy.”

Then, as the superstar first family descended toward the lawn, all hell broke loose (and only one day after Easter!). Parents jostled for that perfect iPhone shot. Some hoisted their children into the air for a closer look.

We looked to get out of the scrum and ran into another hardbody.

“They called me up and asked me if I wanted to participate,” Minnesota Vikings running back Adrian Peterson told Shindigger, as screeching little tykes darted around him, knocking into inflatable tackling dummies.

We asked Mr. Peterson if he had met the Obamas and if he had refrained from subjecting them to his notoriously bone-crunching handshake.

“I didn’t wanna get tackled by Secret Service or anything,” he said with a laugh. “So I took it easy on the president, but I got a little peck on the check from Mrs. Obama. It was pretty cool.”

That’s more than Shindigger could say. Where was our presidential kiss, we wondered? Come to think of it, where were our glasses of wine? Between toddlers screaming for Dora the Explorer and Jordin Sparks’s crooning, a glass of red would have been perfect for our fitness regimen.

We then decided to investigate the food situation back in the roped-off tent area.

“I was on the basketball court when Obama came down,” said Subway spokesman Jared Fogle, who was handing out sandwiches to volunteers. “It’s like a tailgate, but with water and healthy food—and a lot of kids.”

It did indeed feel like some sporting event. Case in point: race car driver Danica Patrick was making her first-ever pit stop at the White House. “I got to meet the whole family, including the dog,” she said, adding that the president’s knowledge of NASCAR was impressive.

Shindigger asked if she had spotted U.K. boy band The Wanted creeping around the South Lawn.

“I don’t know who they are,” she whispered.

“They’re right in front of you,” we whispered back, pointing toward the East Wing.

“Where?” she said. “I have no idea what ‘the wanted’ is, but the kids these days—they find out about stuff first.”

Probably because they wake up so damn early.

“I’m heading to Tampa, which is such a glamorous, exciting place,” she joked. The fashion maven is scheduled to join Donna Karan for a taping for the Home Shopping Network. “Then I’m heading out during Easter to go to Beaver Creek to go skiing with my boyfriend and then out to L.A. to shoot something.”

Ms. Stephenson fancies a stay at the rustically opulent Ritz-Carlton Bachelor Gulch (ritzcarlton.com). Guests this season should be aware, however, of the resort’s $15 million renovation, which will mean a few venue closings. We couldn’t get much more in before Lucy Sykes, fashion director at Rent the Runway, butted in.

“I’m going to Jaipur, India, and Dubai!” she announced.

“Where do you stay in Jaipur?” NYO asked her.

“At the Rambagh Palace whole thing,” she raved. “For some reason, my husband [Euan Rellie] was like, ‘We’re going to India and Dubai, and we’re taking the kids.’ So they’re starting their medications tonight and that’s that!”

We recommend she and her kin check into one of the Taj Hotels-owned property’s splendiferous suites with views of the Mughal Terrace and the Maharaja’s Garden. She better have already booked: a mid-March search showed blocks of the resort already sold out (tajhotels.com).

In fact, we too had been attempting a visit to India. Susan Shin had recently invited us to join His Highness Maharaja Gaj Singh II of Marwar-Jodhpur in the Blue City for his new philanthropic initiatives, the “One World Retreat” and the Indian Head Injury Foundation. We sadly couldn’t attend.

The Sykes/Rellie clan aren’t the only ones heading to the United Arab Emirates—designer Charlotte Ronson is planning a visit there as well.

“I’m thinking of possibly going to Dubai for fun,” she told us at the after-party for the premiere of Oz the Great and Powerful. She said she had traveled there once before, this past November. For spring travelers in search of the high life, why not enter the desert playground, albeit one perhaps devoid of funky character and open debauchery. NYO suggests flying Emirates. If you can swing it, why not cough up the $20,436.70 for a round-trip, first-class private suite, boasting amenities such as five-star dining, an in-cabin shower and a lounge (emirates.com). Then it’s straight to the tallest and most moderno accommodation, the Armani Hotel Dubai in the Burj Khalifa tower (dubai.armanihotels.com). Those looking for a better rate should seek out the racetrack-adjacent Meydan Hotel and its grand Shiba Bar (meydanhotels.com).

Ski-Bunny Hop

The tremendously chic financière Alexandra Lebenthal, who also attended the Love Heals Gala, explained that she had in fact settled on the fluffy slopes of Lake Tahoe for her vacation. “I’m going for four days to ski. I’m staying at a friend’s condo.”

Most Sierra Nevada skiers and mountaineers fly into San Francisco International Airport and drive, but another option is Reno-Tahoe Airport, which is served by Alaska, Delta, American, United and US Air, among others (renoairport.com).

At the ever-popular Heavenly Mountain Resort, you may find suitable accommodations at the Marriott Grand Residence Club, located in the prime Gondola Base Area, or if Squaw’s reported 25 feet of snow this season is a draw, check out the condo-style lodging at The Village (skilaketahoe.com).

“I’ve never been there,” Ms. Lebenthal continued. “I’m flying to San Francisco and driving from there and then going back to do some business.”

Mixing work with pleasure is simply the way to go in this chaotic and stressful day and age.

Saks Fifth Avenue contributor and “hungry editor” blogger Benjamin Setiawan rented a house with friends in Tahoe and flew United Airlines into San Francisco.

“We skied Squaw,” he told us. “The snow was good this year; there were definitely certain trails that were better than others.” As for his favorite culinary joint? Wildflour Baking Company. “Fresh cookies right out of the oven—so good!”
Jeff Goldstein, owner of the Blue & Cream boutiques, is also a skiing fan.

“We spend our whole summer in the paradise of the Hamptons, working. So in the ‘off-season,’ we need our holidays. We go skiing in Snowmass [aspensnowmass.com], Aspen’s snowboarding-friendly sister mountain.” Mr. Goldstein recommended a stay at the Viceroy [viceroyhotelsandresorts.com/snowmass], “Because the ski-in, ski-out experience cannot be beat.” When the man’s hungry, he heads to Paradise Bakery, where he gobbles up zucchini-nut muffins. “I think all year about [it],” he said. He also enjoys being greeted by Nobuko Kang for sushi dinners at Matsuhisa in Aspen [matsuhisaaspen.com].

“After sake bombs and way too much sushi, stumble over to Caribou Club [caribouclub.com] and fall into a couch. It’s like a place lost in time where you always see the same old friends,” he enthused.

Neighbors to the North

At Padma Lakshmi’s Blossom Ball to support The Endometriosis Foundation of America, Susan Sarandon, who spoke at the event, told us that she had just returned from Atlanta, where she was working on location. “Now I’m going to Toronto—I’m working,” she confessed. Her favorite place to unwind and have some fun? “I have a club! SPiN!” (toronto.spingalactic.com.)

That’s right, the Ping-Pong social club has expanded internationally, and the 12,000-square-foot space located at 461 King Street West in downtown Toronto is no laughing matter. There are enough booze and leisure games to entertain even the fussiest vacationer.

If you’re in town, go see Patti Smith’s not-to-be missed “Camera Solo” show at the Art Gallery of Ontario (ago.net), which will remain open until May 19. Our Toronto connoisseur recommended dinner and a bottle of Barolo at Mark McEwan’s Bymark (bymark.mcewangroup.ca) and a pampering stay at the ultra-hip Drake Hotel in West Queen West (thedrakehotel.ca).

All Work and a Lot of Play

Actor S. Epatha Merkerson, also at the Blossom Ball, divulged even bigger upcoming plans: “I’m going to Luxembourg, but I’m going to work. I’m gonna do a film. I’ve never been there,” she told NYO. “I’m looking forward to just getting out of the country and in a new environment.”

We should have given her a few pointers, aside from enjoying the beautiful abbeys and winding Greco-Roman streets. Par example: take a 1 p.m. lunch at Ristorante Roma (roma.lu)—be sure to make a reservation. And, if the film’s budget permits, Ms. Merkerson should rest her weary head at the wondrous contemporary temple, Albert Premier Hotel (hotelalbertpremier.lu). She might want to even venture to the Luxembourg City History Museum, which features 17th- to 19th-century restored residences on Rue du Saint-Esprit and explores the thousand-odd years of Le Grand Duchy de Luxembourg (mhvl.lu).

Restaurateur and nightlife stud Ronnie Madra doesn’t have much time for holidays. “I never have a break!” he told us at his hot spot The Darby, which co-hosted the after-party for the screening of Olympus Has Fallen with the Cinema Society.

“If I take time off, I do it in the spring. I go to Miami or upstate New York.”

“Where do you stay?” NYO asked.

“I have a friend with a house out there; I think the hotels are not so great in Miami.”

Well now Mr. Madra, let’s be fair! The Mondrian, The Raleigh, Soho House, the W South Beach, the SLS and the newfangled James Royal Palm aren’t exactly dumps.

Mr. Madra however, did admit that he loves to hit the nightlife.

“I have my own party at the house, and then I like to go to Story Night Club. It’s a big club [storymiami.com, 136 Collins Avenue]. If I want chill time, I go to Casa Tua [casatualifestyle.com/miami/]. It’s very sexy,” he said with a come-hither smile.

Huddling with a group of pals toward the entrance of the club was the star of the film, Gerard Butler. We asked him how he planned to relax.

“I’ve already been in a lot of countries promoting this film,” he said. “I’ve been in eight weeks in Italy, France, Switzerland, Thailand, Colombia, Panama, Mexico. Some to just get away.”

We could only wonder if he had stayed at the mystical Tcherassi Hotel + Spa (tcherassihotels.com) in Cartagena. It’s out-of-this-world design-porn.

“The best days I spent were skiing in Mont Blanc and on a motorbike going through the mountains of Thailand,” he said.
NYO knows that some of the world’s best skiing can be found at Chamonix (chamonix.com), but we’re a bit less informed about rural expeditions in Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai.

Speaking of fun in the sun, we asked Josh Taekman, co-founder of Eboost, a health-energy drink: should we follow everyone’s lead and go to Tulum? Or is the roaring art scene in Mexico City where it’s at? “Cabo San Lucas,” was his answer. I suppose a stay at the clandestine Capella Pedregal does a body good (capellahotels.com). Then again, we’ll be sure to pack plenty of his Eboost to battle through our inevitable springtime vacation hangovers.

Guests at Asia Society’s 2013 benefit for the Celebration of Asia Week.

Toward the tail end of cocktail hour at Asia Society’s 2013 benefit for the Celebration of Asia Week, Shindigger was chatting with designer Maggie Norris when Jason Wu, an honorary chair for the evening, walked by in The Pierre’s garden foyer. Ms. Norris turned to Shindigger and gave us a sly wink.

“I think he’s great,” she said.

But before additional conversation could develop, we were rudely interrupted by the loud blare of some obnoxious sound. The noise was coming from miniature dinner gongs, and was dutifully ignored by pretty much all in attendance, including Asia Society patrons Charles P. Rockefeller, Chiu-Ti Jansen, jewelry designer Eddie Borgo, Jean Shafiroff and Anna Sui.

“What is that bell?” asked model Jenny Shimizu with justifiable annoyance.

“It’s the dinner bell,” we explained, all too familiar with the irritation of a gala’s mealtime foghorn.

“Ooh,” she said, “I’ve never been summoned before.”

“It will be endlessly disregarded,” we promised.

Ms. Shimizu, a first-timer at the event, was in attendance as the date of Michelle Violy Harper, the fashion and business maven who was recently profiled by The New York Times’s Style section.

On this evening, Ms. Harper sported a sheer, sequined, jet-black frock designed by her friend Mr. Wu.

Shindigger had to know: what was Ms. Harper’s reaction to the Gray Lady’s March 7 exposé? “It was very positive. I was very grateful,” she said with perhaps a touch of apprehensiveness.

Any more of our pesky questions were cut off by yet another chime of an attendant’s gong, which was in disturbing proximity to our head. Enough being enough, Shindigger took off to grab something medicinal at the bar.

Inside the hotel’s ornate ballroom, we joined other guests who had given in to the gong and were greeted there with much more pleasing sounds: Peter Duchin and his orchestra.

Amazingly, some attendees were already spinning on the dance floor. And so early in the evening! Perhaps they were moved into action by the great talent of Mr. Duchin. Or perhaps they were simply relieved to be free of the gongs.

“It’s always a good sign when there’s dancing before the main course,” laughed Melissa Chiu, director of the Asia Society Museum in New York, during her welcome address.

At table No.1, Shindigger sat alongside famed Chinese artist Qin Feng and his wife, Catherine Lee. “Finally, an artist!” yelled legendary shutterbug Bill Cunningham, as he snapped the painter who posed between bites of sesame-crusted tuna.

It was all smooth sailing until the weather turned unexpectedly windy when the wealthy Dr. Helga Wall-Apelt—her 2006 bequest to the Ringling Museum is rumored to have been in the $50 million neighborhood—pulled a chair up next to Shindigger. The patron and Asian art collector was ... well, let’s just say she was artfully direct in her opinions.

“How is that?” Dr. Wall-Apelt said, noticing that Shindigger had turned down chef Simpson Wong’s main course of Bo Bo chicken with turmeric tamarind sauce for a vegan meal of peas, carrots and penne. “It looks awful!”

Before we had a chance to respond, the septuagenarian demanded more red wine from a waiter and then informed us that this too she found subpar (the wine, not the waiter).

When Mr. Wu took the stage, most of the room fell silent. Not our Helga.

“Stop it! Stop it!” she yelled at us in her thick German-Swiss accent, glaring at our in-use iPhone. Shindigger explained that we record comments on the phone, and we were now missing most of the designer’s speech. He finished up and returned to his harem of models, who included Liya Kebede, Shu Pei, Martha Hunt, Elizabeth Gilpin and Hilary Rhoda.

“Years ago, this used to be a very high-profile event,” Dr. Wall-Apelt began grumbling during Asia Society Executive Vice President Tom Nagorski’s remarks. When the auction began, she added: “Ugh. This is the worst part of the ball.”

Shindigger tried to hide behind our awful vegan peas, but to no avail. And pretty soon, the good doctor’s unhappiness began to make sense. If you’re the sort of person who gives millions to a museum that celebrates clowns being shot out of a cannon, an Asia Society gala could feel a tad stuffy.

We decided we needed some air. Or a cannon. Definitely another drink. Which is when we ran into Cynthia Rowley, who was having a giggle fit.

“I already told these guys,” Ms. Rowley said, gesturing toward her tablemates, “when you are at a function like this, you want to lean in and then laugh out the loudest. Then everybody wishes they were at your table.”

Shindigger giggled along with Ms. Rowley, while secretly hoping Dr. Wall-Apelt would give in to table envy.

As for the live auction, Sotheby’s North American vice chairman of Asian art, Henry Howard-Sneyd, saw to it that a su-misura, personalized-fabric Zegna suit went for $9,000. A five-night stay on a private villa in Turks and Caicos? $26,000.

Gala chair Stephanie Foster and Susan Shin, who served on the gala committee, said the night couldn’t be going better.

“This is so fun because it’s so diverse,” said Ms. Shin, wondering where else foreign policy wonks could mix with supermodels.

Diverse? Maybe too diverse. Exhausted, we crept back to the surreal Werner Fassbinder film still in progress at table No.1.

“Are you going to eat that?” Dr. Wall-Apelt asked Shindigger as we gathered our things. She was greedily eyeing a chèvre Bavarian cheesecake on our plate.

“It’s all yours,” we told her. Sayonara!

Katie Holmes and Mayor Michael Bloomberg at The New York Observer's 25th anniversary party.

Last Thursday evening at New York’s perch of power dining, the Four Seasons Restaurant, billionaires could be found clinking glasses with politicians, actors could be seen rubbing shoulders with news correspondents, and throngs of notable wordsmiths quaffed copious amounts of liquor at The New York Observer’s 25th anniversary soiree.

“I think this is the best collection of New Yorkers I’ve seen in 20 years!” effused Ronald Perelman, who leered lustily at our highball glass.

“Can I ask you one question?” he continued. “Where’s the bar?”

It’s thataway, just behind Katie Couric, we assured the business tycoon. Or if he preferred, he could hit the bar on the other side of the restaurant’s famous pool room, where Harvey Weinstein had posted up and Spike Lee, who declined to take off his puffy coat, had helped himself to the generous spread of gourmet goodies before chatting up Katie Holmes and Donald Trump.

(Sadly, Shindigger caught only the tail end of that conversation. Mr. Lee saying to Mr. Trump: “Well, that’s one thing we can agree on.”)

Observer editors past and present—Peter Kaplan, Elizabeth Spiers and Ken Kurson—circled the room, while publisher Jared Kushner greeted guests with wife Ivanka Trump at the door. And from the worlds of business, politics, entertainment, fashion and beyond, the stars just kept pouring in. Even Mayor Michael Bloomberg was impressed with the turnout. “The Observer does throw a hell of a party,” he said in his opening remarks, before dubbing attendee Cory Booker “the handsomest mayor in America—west of the Hudson River.”

Here came Terry McDonell and Danny Strong and Jay McInerney and Audrey Gelman and Larry Gagosian and Ray Kelly and Joel Klein and George Pataki and Eric Schmidt and Kevin Ryan and—oh my!—Rupert Murdoch.

We just had to talk to Rupert Murdoch

“Mr. Murdoch? Mr. Murdoch?” Shindigger beckoned.

“What?” said the cantankerous billionaire, walking right on by with wife Wendi Murdoch.

“Can we ask you a few questions, sir?”

“No!” barked Mr. Murdoch, before making a dramatic swat in our direction. Shindigger agilely ducked for safety, silently chuckling at the news baron’s aversion to the press.

In no time at all, we found friendlier prey. “Someone from The Observer already observed me,” said Broadway favorite Christine Baranski, who was chatting with fashion consultant Fern Mallis under the floral protection of one of the poolside trees.

“New York is just the coolest city, and I love the fact that this paper really makes New York seem cool,” Ms. Baranski said. “The Observer touches on the sophistication and fun of the city. I just like the tone of it.”

Just then, we re-encountered Mr. Perelman, who had been paired with a cocktail, and who had his own take on The Observer. “The only bad moment I ever had was when they wrote a story about a little synagogue,” Mr. Perelman said, referring to Chloé Malle’s prickly 2010 article about the billionaire’s lavish private synagogue.

“I wish they didn’t, but they did, so that’s the end of it,” he said. “I still love The Observer, even besides that.”

Very gracious, we thought, bumping then into Observer alum George Gurley, with whom we had pre-gamed earlier in the evening at Jean and Martin Shafiroff’s glitzy Saint Patrick’s Day cocktail party. The suavely fuddled Mr. Gurley made the perfect VIP-fixer for Shindigger when PR maven Peggy Siegal was hand-holding elsewhere.

“He does Shindigger, he’s trustworthy,” Mr. Gurley assured José “Pepe” Fanjul, the president of Fanjul Corp. and Florida Crystals Corporation.

“I think this is the best event!” exclaimed Mr. Fanjul’s Carolina Herrera-clad wife, Emilia Fanjul.

We danced past the couple then to catch up with model Hilary Rhoda, who was getting a kick out of the bash.

“Oh, it’s a great party!” she said, holding a plate of Christian Albin’s Italian gourmet cibo. “I love the room, it’s gorgeous. I love the band. Obviously getting into the food situation.”

Ms. Rhoda, also dressed in a Carolina Herrera creation, had just returned from the runways of Paris, where she had walked for Céline. “Now I’m back and on photo shoots,” she said.

Photorealistic artist Chuck Close was also taking advantage of the buffet.

“I love The Observer almost in spite of myself,” he said. “At first it was a guilty pleasure, and then one day they endorsed Mitt Romney. I almost canceled my subscription. What were they thinking?”

What brought you back onboard, we wondered?

“When I go to Europe and can’t read you, I get really upset,” he confessed. “It went from being a guilty pleasure to a real pleasure.”

A cocktail later, we found ourselves yelling: “Ms. Herrera, we saw you at the School of American Ballet’s Winter Ball, and you were dancing!”

Shindigger had never witnessed her quite so zippy.

“Yes, I know. I’m South American,” Carolina Herrera retorted sassily.

Cuchi-Cuchi!

Back to the bar we traipsed.

“Do you have a white wine or champagne?” Padma Lakshmi pressed a barman.

“Rosé or brut?” he asked.

“Brut,” the foodie stated assuredly.

Ms. Lakshmi wanted to know our thoughts about her Blossom Ball. “Did you have fun?” she asked.

“We did, “Shindigger said.

“I’m glad!” she said. And then the Maison Martin Margiela-wearing TV host told us about the previous day, which she had spent in Albany: “I was recognized by the State Senate. Every State senator was there, because it’s budget time,” she dished, lowering her voice to a serious, husky tone. Though she lost us at “budget.”

When the band was replaced by DJ Chelsea Leyland’s turntables, things had officially strayed, and Shindigger was impressed (and a tad disappointed) that not a single sloshed attendee plummeted into the white marble pool. Cases in point: when perpetually grabby Four Seasons proprietor Julian Niccolini began frisking two attractive slabs of meat, offering to shower them with pricey pours of Bordeaux. Or when Gawker founder Nick Denton resorted to flirting with a pride of hungry tech lionesses, having already refused to be photographed with Mr. Murdoch because “it’s too obvious.”

Shindigger sidled up to the bar for last call with Ashleigh Banfield of CNN and Fox News’s Kimberly Guilfoyle.

“We’re together,” Ms. Banfield joked about their warring media outlets. “I’ve known her for eight years. We use to work at Court TV together.”

“Did you see Rupert Murdoch? He didn’t want to talk to us,” we bemoaned.

“Because I work at CNN, he didn’t want to talk to me, either,” said Ms. Banfield.

“No, he’s great! God bless him!” Ms. Guilfoyle cut in, right on cue.

As Rihanna’s “Diamonds” thundered over the speakers, Ms. Banfield revealed that she had gotten a smooch from the Newark mayor.

“We had a Cory Booker sandwich,” swooned Ms. Guilfoyle.

As things were wrapping up, at least one guest took on a reflective air. Mr. Close told us that he was overwhelmed by the turnout and notable faces. “I’ll make sure to be at the 50th anniversary,” he promised. “I’ll be 98.”

Shindigger likes a man who can forecast that far ahead—or, for that matter, with any type of math skills.

Here’s to the next 25 years!