Mr. Bonette—wearing a gray suit and snazzy pink tie—twirled around his glass of white wine and added with a waggish smile, "On the upside, there are more advertising people that do good work to support the organization because they have more time available." The Daily Transom asked Mr. Bourette if he worried that some of the media attendees were responsible for creating content that glorified drug and alcohol use. "I'm retired. I don't watch those shows anymore; I've got my feet up on the recliner watching CNBC," he replied. "I wouldn't go so far as to say they glorify it, but acceptance is dangerous."

David Rosenbloom, the director of Join Together, turned the conversation to smoking and teen films. "I think the tobacco industry is working with movie producers to bring smoking back to movies and promote tobacco use," Mr. Rosenbloom said. Jack Thorne, the director of another nonprofit, disagreed. "Do you really think they're trying to support it? I don't think that." He thought for a moment and added, "You know, when I was in college you could smoke in the classrooms."

As the crowd was starting to pile in for dinner, we found John Mack—CEO of Morgan Stanley—about to sit down at his table. "I'm sure 20 or 25 years ago drugs were a big deal [on Wall Street]; I could be naïve and it's not like I'm on the floor or anything," he said. Then he asked the Daily Transom what we thought of drug use on Wall Street these days. What of the added stressors of the crash? "It doesn't help," Mr. Mack admitted.

Leslie Moonves of Viacom was getting his picture with Joel Klein, the chancellor of the New York City school system. "I worry about schools dealing with budget cuts. There are certainly more drug use when people face hard times," Mr. Klein said. Mr. Moonves answered that he had absolutely nothing to do with MTV's programming, so he couldn't answer to whether their programming encouraged binge drinking on its reality shows. What about his other youth programming? "There are certain shows that do show drug use and alcohol accurately. After all, people are using them," he said.

Mr. Moonves' elegant wife, CBS anchor Julie Chen, was wearing a Jackie Kennedy-style knit suit. "I'm not sure, I got this wrong once and got in a lot of trouble," she said when I asked her who made it. "It also has a very pretty shirt underneath it." A friend came by and averred that the last time he had seen her, the press was talking to her. "And they still are now," she said with a laugh. I asked Ms. Chen if she though print was on its way out. "I love to hold a newspaper," she said.

She added, a bit ruefully, "When I worked for Nightline we used to do our research with clippings and a glue stick. That's the kind of thing I miss."

After courteously posing for photos with a gaggle of thirtysomething female fans-who had slipped into the giggly exuberance of their youth-the former boy-band idol, who famously came out on the cover of People magazine in July 2006, was glad to talk about what had changed since the 1990s, when he was a member of ‘N Sync. "Sure, it was a relief to come out," Mr. Bass, who is 29, told the Daily Transom.

Was it painful to be a closeted teen sex symbol? "It wasn't hard because we were so busy. I never had anything like a personal life," he said. Jiggling his cocktail in his hand, he added, "There were girls that I thought loved, that I did love but I knew along it wasn't me. I'm just lucky to be so busy that I didn't have to think about it.

Was Mr. Bass angry that Proposition 8, banning gay marriage in California, had been passed? "Of course, I think everyone is," said Mr. Bass, who lives in Los Angeles. "They're all coming out of the woodwork now that it's too late, of course. Looking at it, it's like, wow, are we still in the 1940s?"

The Daily Transom asked him if he was mad enough to move. "No, I love it still, but actually, I am moving to New York soon, I'm going to be bi-coastal!" he answered with a bright smile. "We're going to be the next state to have gay marriage, anyway." Which one? "Oh, California. I would get married wherever the hell I pleased though. It's a decision between me and God."

The Daily Transom approached the table where a black-clad Brooke Burke, who won the latest DWTS competition, was sitting quietly with her tanned fiancé David Charvet and some friends. (Mr. Bass called the ex-Maxim cover girl his best friend on the show.) Mr. Charvet-a Franco-American who was on Baywatch and has two children with Ms. Burke-didn't want to be bothered. "Brooke's been doing press since five, she's done bro, done," he told us.

A much friendlier gentleman with slicked back hair, red Ray Bans and a white cardigan was doing the robot alone at the bar. He introduced himself to the Transom as Ben Andrews, one of the stars in gay art-porn impresario Michael Lucas's troupe. "Lance is fun we've hung out in Hiro-you know the club?" he said. "I wasn't surprised when...oooh, yeah. Lady Gaga!"

Mr. Andrews pointed to the DJ booth and broke out into some jerky dance moves. He lurched to a stop and picked up where he had left off. "Lance came out, but my sisters were so excited, they were like go get ‘em."

Is Mr. Bass cool with porn stars? Mr. Andrews shrugged nonchalantly and smiled, "I don't know. We haven't hung out in, like, a year."      

But signs that the play might lay an egg were already in evidence last Friday afternoon at Café Une Deux Trois, where a press lunch with the cast had been scheduled. Instead of excited actors ready to begin the new Broadway run of a perfectly timed critique of inflated valuation, a near empty restaurant, and a sheepish hostess greeted the Daily Transom. "Yes, they were supposed to be here, but the event was cancelled," the hostess said with a shrug. "The actors are tired."

An invitation to the premiere's after party in Chelsea on Monday night met with similar frustration. After the Daily Transom responded positively to a publicist's request for coverage, we were met with the following reply via email: "I'm so sorry, but I was just informed that this party is closed to the press."

The reason for the change of plans, this time, revealed a production in disarray. "Well, it was a smaller party than we expected," the publicist said. After being pressed for what exactly that meant, she passed us on to another publicist, "who is in charge of events." That publicist said, "I'll let Richard Kornberg know about your inquiry. He represents the entire show. We only represent one of the producers, Stuart Lane."  

Okay then!

Mr. Kornberg was not thrilled to hear from us; "I don't even know what you're talking about," he huffed when we got him on the phone. After a review of the situation he admitted that one of the events had been canceled. But where, he asked, did the Daily Transom get the idea that the after-party was closed to the press? After being told about the email he barked, "I've got five people holding, let me call you back."

A few minutes later, he did.

"This is fucking moronic on their part! They don't have the right to ban anyone. I would have invited you. It wasn't closed because Michael Musto was there," Mr. Kornberg said, referring to the Village Voice gossip columnist. "Would you please forward me that email right away, so I can show it to a producer that is holding on the other line. I can't wait to show these people!"

The luncheon was an entirely different story, Mr. Kornberg said. Making it clear that it wasn't his idea, Mr. Kornberg explained, "The producers weren't nervous. It was a bad idea in the first place to schedule the lunch." Calming down a bit, he added, "The director wanted the three stars to be able to save their voice, so it was just postponed."  

"Listen, my friend, we design $600 shirts, for the high, high, high end, you know?" Fabrice Tardieu—one of the Haitian brothers behind Bogosse, another one of the party's hosts—told me. "This is not the same man that buys a $300 shirt. He may be buying less." Mr. Tardieu leaned in closer with increasing excitement. With a sweeping gesture, he indicated an ornate shirt his brother, Patrick, was wearing. "A lot of leather, mother of pearl, sterling silver. Form fitting, it tapers right to the body. Look at that!" he said.

Deeply tanned, white-rabbit vested Liz Rubin, a Quintessentially account manager, said the luxe concierge market wasn't sweating the bear market. "It's a whole lifestyle, and our clients are jetsetters. Just today, a member needed his gym membership upgraded," Ms. Rubin said. "Sure, that was just a phone call, but we also sent 50 peacocks to China for a client." Quintessentially, where the service ranges from $3,000 to $60,000 per year, was founded in 2000 by two Brits, Ben Elliot (nephew of Camilla Parker-Bowles) and Aaron Simpson.

Ms. Rubin looked around and sighed. "I was on Survival of the Richest, the WB show," she said. "I realized it was kind of a joke when I went into my agent complaining I wasn't on the cover of US Weekly. The agent fired me. I was ludicrous," she added, giggling.

Raven-haired beauty Natalie White—who last month became the first American featured on the cover of French Vogue—had trod the runway in a long bias-cut, black silk evening gown and fur stole. (Think a skinnier, early talkies Joan Crawford.) Is it real fur though? "It's fox fur and it's still alive," the 20-year-old quipped. "Everyone is always saying, 'I'd rather go naked than wear fur.' I'd rather do both!" She added, "I'm a full supporter of using animals for all their uses. I mean we eat them. I'm from a red state!"

Which one?

"The reddest. West Virginia," Ms. White answered. "What about you?"

The Daily Transom noted that he had grown up nearby. "Oh really?" said Ms. White. "I've never met anyone that grew up here and I've been in New York two years." 

Ms White's enthusiasm revealed a thin tattoo wrapped around her arm. "It says, where would you be if you closed your eyes," she explained holding it up for inspection. Ms. White closed her eyes. "In the Bahamas, running down a beach with my hair braided like Bo Derek."

A short young man in his mid 20's was standing nearby wearing a full-length fur coat and shiny, pointed black leather shoes. "You're not going to pour red paint on me," he asked with an arched eyebrow, as the Daily Transom reached in his jacket pocket. It's a notebook! He relaxed, and introduced himself as Adrien Field, a fashion writer. "It's gorilla," he said, about his coat. "My grandmother bought it in 1930. Last night I wore rabbit--that would have gone better with the theme, but I was photographed." He arched his eyebrow again adding, "I just couldn't have that."

It wasn't all Pernod and roses though. Rising indie starlet Kristen Ruhlin—in a peasant dress and black boots—pointed at her chiseled-jawed roommate Tyler Barnes as he strutted the runway in a Bogosse shirt and boxy flannel trousers. "He makes more catering in a week then I do acting in films," she said. Was she thinking of waitressing? She took a deep sip of a milky white cocktail and answered, ""No, I've managed to never waitress in New York. There's no going back now."

A gallery worker named Sam, one of the few regulars with a job, wondered aloud if Jerry was a canvasser. But by this point he was off, on to the next shit hole. "Fuck politics," was the response of Tommy Kenny, the owner.

Paul Sudia, a porter at the Back Fence next door, had another take. "There was a line around the block on 13^th," he said. "I told someone that was voting for Obama, ‘Look, you just don't vote and it'll be good, it will cancel each other out.' Everyone just stared at me though. It's a great system, but you can't trust people," he said with a sigh.

We were skeptical. Mr. Sudia lit a cigarette. "Uh, to be honest I wasn't gonna vote anyway," he said.

Later, finding Ms. Midler chatting with a family of fans dressed as the Palins, the Daily Transom asked her if there would be any Songs for the New New Depression, now that the boom is over. "I have a job—I'm in Vegas all year round, so I'm not worried," the songstress replied. Ms. Midler would only say that it was "thrilling" to have a fellow Hawaiian a hair away from the presidency.

Fellow presenter Kathy Griffin—dressed in sequined red, white and blue—was more vocal with her politics. "No, I'm not dressed like John McCain," she told the Daily Transom. "I'm Aunt Sam. Well, I don't know if I'm an aunt or an uncle. I don't want to be put in a box. It's about Prop 8. Vote no on Prop 8," she added, referring to the California ballot measure to amend the state constitution to ban gay marriage.

John McEnroe was wearing a four-foot tall wizard's hat. "I'm going to be upset if Obama loses, yes, but I don't think he's going to lose. John McCain was a hero of mine way back when, but I'm a little worried about him now," he said.

"You should have seen him trying to get in the cab," said his wife, pop singer, Patty Smyth (not to be confused with Patti Smith!), of the ‘80s band Scandal.

New York Post gossip Cindy Adams was doing some old fashioned shoe-leather reporting, scribbling on the back of a tip sheet as she interviewed Kate Pierson of the B-52's, who was dressed as a pirate. "Why should I talk to you? The Observer pees on me. Pees on me!" Ms. Adams, who is 83, told the Daily Transom. We flattered Ms. Adams and she relented. "I love to do it. I feel like it's good to get out in the trenches. I've had 500 front pages and I've worked so hard for every single one of them."

Ms. Adams doesn't "do" Halloween. "I always thought it was for women who needed to let loose their inhibitions and I'm not inhibited. So I'm just winging it with some jewelry and coming as an overdressed New Yorker."

The Daily Transom asked the columnist how she felt about the Post's political coverage. "It's absolutely fine to me," she said. "I've never been close to a liberal in my life." With that she trotted off with two gentlemen dressed as a sailor and an infantryman.

Police Commissioner Ray Kelly—sans costume—was standing near his table holding a plunger. "Watch what questions you ask him, he might plunge you," a cop standing nearby joked when we asked Mr. Kelly if he had any qualms about the recession. "I'm worried about a reduction of resources as opposed to a crime wave specifically due to the recession," he said. "Crime has been down steadily the last 18 years and there were some low economic points. But we need to be able to put cops on the streets."

Then it was time for Ms. Waters to collect her award. "I hope there is a president giving a press conference in front of a compost heap next year," she said to the audience. Passing Western-attired Kareem Abdul-Jabbar in the hallway, the Daily Transom asked the basketball player about the election. "I only wished my parents were alive to see it," he said. "This nation has changed somehow and it makes me very proud."    

Ms. Norville, who met Ms. Smith during her first stint at CBS, said there was no record of the Vice Presidential candidate ever giving something to charity. "It's just one of the many things we don't know about her," she said. "Actually, her tax papers revealed her and her husband gave a small amount to charity, and their income-" she looked around the room-"is probably different from anyone else's in this room, so it would be much smaller. But it could be significant for her family."

She added: "People ask about Sarah Palin's clothes. Excuse my French, I don't give a rat's you-know-what about her clothes. I care about America. What are they going to do with my health care?" she said. "My kids make fun of me because I buy 48 rolls of toilet paper. I love the feeling of never being without. And I love to clean my closets."

"Your children must be grown by now!" Ms. Smith interjected. "I remember seeing them way back."

After Ms. Norville walked away, Ms. Smith gestured to the Daily Transom. "Slide over here so I can hear you." Nearby a sax was being played nearby along a grand piano. Former ad man Peter Rogers, who appeared to have been born in a tux, came over and offered to get her a glass of wine. Liz pulled his head to hers and sang, "He Vas my Boyfriend." Then they did an adorable duet.

The Daily Transom wanted to know the gentleman's occupation. "Nothing," he said and laughed.

"Oh, Peter's independently wealthy and he paints wonderful portraits," said Ms. Smith. "He used to be an ad man in the '60s." What did he think of Mad Men? "I don't like it," said Mr. Rogers. "I had enough of it back then, and anyway it was nothing like that. I only did luxury."

"Don't listen to him, what does he know?" said Ms. Smith. "I love the show."

Then the Daily Transom moved on to our mutual stock in trade: gossip. "What gossip?" asked Ms. Smith. "There is none anymore. There hasn't been a good gossip story in years. It's all politics now." She continued: "I don't think that really paid off for me," she said, referring to the New York Post, where her column runs. "They don't appreciate me." What of her colleague, Cindy Adams? "We're too old to have rivals, and she's terribly funny." She repeated "terribly funny." Then she said she was tired of using emails because of all the confusion over pronouns. "Now I just call people and say ‘what do you mean?'"

Q-Tip—famous for his Afrocentric take on boho chic—was sporting a black tux, black shirt, grey bow-tie and fuschia pocket square. "I'm blasting out my song with Barack November 5," Q-Tip had told the assembled red carpet scrum earlier. The Daily Transom asked about David Dinkins, whom Tribe Called Quest rapped about on "Can I Kick It-" in 1988.

"This isn't going to be a bad question, is it?" Q-Tip interjected. No! The Daily Transom just wanted to hear how he would update his famous rhymed support of New York's first black nominee for mayor. He thought for a moment and gave it a shot. "Mr. Barack Obama, will you please be our president/you'll be doing us a really..." The legendary verbal acrobat shrugged.

Wu-Tang's RZA was in full camouflage. "I'm supporting Barack, of course. I'm not in a position to vote, you know what I'm saying, but yeah, I'm supporting him." We wondered what the Brooklyn-bred musician thought of New York's current mayor. "Williamsburg is nice, but Bed Stuy's not. Take it inland, Bloomberg," he said.

The Daily Transom mentioned Ol' Dirty Bastard, RZA's late band mate. "I miss ODB, man," he said, sighing. He watched a couple middle-aged women with Michelle Obama badges saunter by. Referring to ODB, he added, "That was a good mayor of New York."

Mr. Nicola was wearing a sharp Zegna pinstriped suit; his head is closely shaved. He gave the Daily Transom a quick tour of the lobby's landmarked spaces. Despite its renewed gilded-age elegance it was quiet, like a museum, and had none of the bustle of its older, shabby genteel incarnation. "Nothing's lost and all the landmarks have been restored," he said. We wondered about the people. "Yes, given the room rates, we're sure the clientele has changed," he said.

Katie Lee Joel, accentuating her youth in shorts and tights, seemed puzzled that she was alone on the red carpet. She struck a few winning poses for the lone photog.

Mr. Nicola excused himself to glad-hand a matronly British hotel resident who was a tad miffed that she hadn't been invited to the downstairs event. "Oh, come with me," Nicola said, leading the woman and her friend past the event coordinators.

"I'm glad you got to see that," Mr. Nicola told us when he came back. "Residents want to be a part of this! It's unfair that there's been so much negative press about them." Could it be envy over the strong euro? "There's a new level of wealth in this city that's very important and this hotel is strictly luxury. We've brought something very new and special to New York."

The Daily Transom wanted to know where Mr. Nicola hung his hat. "New Jersey," he said.

Downstairs in the concourse, models were milling around jewelry-filled vitrines in Helen Yarmak furs, one of the labels with a kiosk there. One model had been decked out to look like Josephine Baker, complete with beret. Sonia, who was wearing a $54,000 Chinchilla, had been rescued from South Sudan when she was a kid. "These are amazing people with a lot of money," she said, looking at the guests sipping Champagne around her. "They do a lot of good."

Another model, Lauren Tenor, from South Carolina, complained aloud about not getting a drink. "Why are we being treated like staff?" Ms. Tenor told the Daily Transom that she couldn't wait to hang up the fur she was draped in and head to a downtown dive bar.

Anait Kinadze, a bigwig at Yarmak, had a novel way of rebranding fur. "Fur is green and global," she said in a thick Russian accent, "it's the best way to keep the planet clean."

The Daily Transom spied 6-foot-2 blond Czech supermodel Hana Soukupova wearing a black leather motorcycle jacket. Looking like the leader of an all-girl street gang, she towered over a small entourage of girls wearing the same jackets. With a black ruffled tube dress, her leather, and a silk and chain necklace, one of Yarmuk's $300,000 furs didn't seem to interest her. Her chichi rock 'n' roll look wasn't a statement, though. "Everyone has their own style today," she said. Soukupova's stylist—who looked to be around two feet shorter than her client—added, "We're just all about leather tonight."

Lisa Smilor, an executive at the Council of Fashion Designers of America—which sponsored the event—was complimenting Michael McGraw, of PETA, on his natty gray Etro suit and tie. We wondered what Mr. McGraw thought of Ms. Kinadze's claim that fur was the greenest thing going. "Actually, the chemicals used to treat the furs are poison, so fur is about as green as a Hummer."

Before the Daily Transom left, Mr. McGraw's partner David wanted to share some New York history. "An underground mall opened right around the corner from here—on 57^th—right after the '87 crash. It was closed by the early '90s. It seems relevant, doesn't it?" he asked, "New Yorkers don't want to shop underground."