Although it was officially a surprise party, Mr. Lipps was not caught unawares when he came to the club last night. Nur Kahn, the owner of Kenmare, took to Twitter yesterday afternoon exclaiming the party could no longer be kept under wraps.  “Cant keep One model management honcho @Scottlipps birthday at @KenmareNYC a secret anymore...happy birthday bro!!.” A surprise birthday for Mr. Lipps was also held at Kenmare last year.  Mr. Lipps’ agency has represented some of the largest names in the industry, including Bar Refaeli, Claudia Schiffer and Iman

Did you have a happy childhood?
I had an interesting childhood. My parents got divorced pretty early, I was going into the first grade, so I was young; but in New York, it’s not uncommon to have divorced parents. And I moved from the city to Westchester.

Did you get good grades?
I would get on report cards, ‘Definitely smart beyond his years but doesn’t put enough effort in.’

What were you like in high school?
To transition from middle school into high school in the suburbs, it was a complete culture shock, to say the least. I was kind of an outsider. … I remember the first day of school, everyone was like, ‘What sports do you play?’ or ‘What teams are you going out for?’ At my old school, we didn’t have a team. It was definitely quite a transition. … I went through an awkward stage. I was overweight. I was kind of all over the place.

That’s odd, you’re very skinny. What happened?
One day I definitely woke up and decided that I really wanted to get into better shape and take care of myself and have more energy.

Were your parents surprised when you didn’t go to college?
Well, I was hired full time at a PR company when I was 17, when I graduated high school—sort of an intern or whatever, but I was working full time.

Why did you leave PR for real estate?
I was very young. I thought I knew a lot more than I did. … I had a long talk with my boss—she kind of decided it wasn’t the best fit. She actually said to me, ‘I have no doubt in my mind in a decade you’ll own a media empire, but right now …’

Laid off and not in college? Did you have an existential crisis?
Oh, I was distraught. … I was so young, obviously, people had major hesitations about hiring me, so I was debating whether I could afford to be one of those kids who do whatever they want and travel and have fun and party. I made a choice, I said, ‘I’d always been thinking about real estate.’

Did you meet your future clients through that PR firm?
Funny you should ask—we actually just had a closing this week to my old boss. It was a nice-sized apartment, over a million dollars.

What do your parents do?
My father owns an envelope and paper company. And my mother, actually, she just took her state [real estate] exam yesterday and it’s soon to be, hopefully, a license. She lives in Westchester, and she’s going to be working with a friend out there. She already has her personal assistant.

You started with Citi Habitats and went to Corcoran, where you were apparently their youngest hire, top rookie and quickest promotion. Why did you leave three months ago for their rival, Elliman?
You know, it’s nothing too specific, but I knew a manager there and some other people. A lot of people that work there have always been like, ‘Oh, you should come over here.’ They just have such camaraderie.

What does it mean that you’re a senior vice president at Elliman?
The title’s just a title, to say the least. I think it gives me some credibility. When I started in the business, I was really hesitant to tell anyone how old I was. … It’s tough, you’re buying and selling really expensive apartments, people’s biggest decisions in their lifetimes—and you’re so young.

The Web site Curbed recently named you the broker of the year, and yet right now you have four listings, and three are below $1 million. Are you nervous about living up to the hype?
Worrying about what other people think is not what I really focus on.

What can you do to get more listings?
Obviously, this is not the time to go and sell your apartment and get the top price possible, so we took a few listings off the market and we rented some.

Have you called up Elliman’s biggest broker, Dolly Lenz, to introduce yourself?
No... Of course, meeting anyone with such success in this business would be an honor and a privilege. I definitely look forward to, hopefully, doing some business with her.

Would you want to be one of New York’s big mega-brokers?
At the end of the day, we’re in this business to, in some way, help people. … All that other stuff, if that comes with it? Great, but that’s not why I’m here.

Yet Page Six ranked you ahead of Alex Rodriguez on its ‘Hottest Bachelors’ list.
When I saw that, I was just laughing hysterically. I couldn’t believe that, and I had no idea how I made it to that list, or even before A-Rod, which is hysterical. I definitely think he’s a more valuable bachelor than I am.

Your clients reportedly include Kirsten Dunst, Nicole Richie, Ally Hilfiger, Margherita Missoni, Jessica Stam, Coco Rocha, Caroline Trentini, Hilary Rhoda and Lily Cole. Is that like being stuck in a Bret Easton Ellis novel?
I definitely work with a wide mix of people. It’s always funny to see a typical day. It’s not uncommon to go from someone very young and with a very interesting profession to a family looking for a place for their kids. At the end of the day, we give the same service to everyone.

Are you using the royal ‘we’?
Did I say ‘we’?

Have you always been friendly with models?
In terms of interesting types of people, I’ve always been lucky where I’ve been surrounded by very interesting smart and talented and successful people. Growing up in New York City, regardless of where you were, you were always meeting interesting people.

You were profiled in W magazine, and your last two birthday parties were both written about. Is that good for business?
At the end of the day, that’s just one little glimpse of one little thing. … Sometimes the most exciting thing I do in the week is watch reality television.

Brokering is slightly unglamorous; you’re at the mercy of the market and of clients, and you have to be servile to others’ needs. Would you want to go into, say, development?
I would love to learn more about development and get involved in, possibly, a creative project or two. … My job is definitely not glamorous. Last night I got a phone call at 10 o’clock: ‘Some water fixture broke in the bathroom, what do I do?’ It’s like, ‘O.K.,’ and you go over the steps one by one. … I would love to definitely branch out one day, but right now I’m just focusing on this.

What about returning to school?
I’ve definitely thought about taking some classes; that’s something I’m more than considering and would absolutely do in the near future. But in terms of stopping my work and going to school full time, that’s just not something that I would ever even imagine. … The thought of me not representing my clients is just something unheard of.

Your biggest-ever listing was Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen’s penthouse at One Morton Square, which you listed in November 2007 for $11.995 million, but the price went down to $10.995 and $10.495 and $9.995 million. Then this January it was pulled from the market without selling. What went wrong?
I think it’s obvious 2008 was a big transition from a seller’s market to a buyer’s market, so many listings on the market at every price point saw a major shift.

What’s the biggest sale you’ve ever closed?
I’ve brokered things to people from $500,000 to in excess of $10 million.

How many $10 million sales have you done?
I don’t think it’s important to really comment.

Would you recommend real estate to other 22-year-olds?
It’s funny, a lot of people come and see me or they’ll write me emails about looking to get into real estate. But it’s a tough business, there’s no stability. … Is it a career that I recommend to everyone? Absolutely not. This is tough, tough work.

mabelson@observer.com

On Wednesday, March 5, the Ramones’ former drummer, Marky Ramone, was seated with his legs crossed on a leather couch inside a trailer parked in front of the Tommy Hilfiger store in Soho. Outside, a line stretched to the end of the block of party guests waiting to get into the store to view the line of punk-inspired clothes that Mr. Ramone designed for Mr. Hilfiger. Mr. Ramone would also be performing later in the evening with his band, the Blietzkrieg.

“See I put some stud work here, here, and here,” said Mr. Ramone, pointing out the metal studs lining the pockets, belt and backside of the self-designed jeans he was wearing. “And I put the holes in myself.”

Mr. Ramone, who is well into his 50s and still has chin-length black hair, was also wearing a leather jacket from the collection with a zebra print lining that he showed off to the Daily Transom. "Feel that. It's so silky!"

Mr. Ramone and Ms. Hilfiger have known each other for about two decades—from back when the drummer played in a band called the King Flux with Andy Hilfiger, Tommy's brother, in the '80s. Tommy used to come hang out at the rehearsals.

“He always liked rock, hip-hop, punk rock," said Mr. Ramone. "I think a lot of rock people are going to like this line, which is something he wants to jump into. This style and the Ramones thing is just a lot more popular now. But I didn’t want the jeans to look like a pair of Levi’s—I wanted them to be a little cooler."

Inside, Tommy’s daughter Ally and a tall, handsome friend were greeting guests like Paper magazine’s Mickey Boardman and ubiquitous photog Sylvia Miles. (Paper was hosting the party.)

The faded and identically torn studded jeans, leather jackets and graphic tees looked a little sad hanging on the racks, if only because there was a distinctly mass-produced quality to the line—in contrast to all the authentic thrift-store leather jackets and rock T-shirts worn by the guests roaming around.  But according to Andy, senior VP of events and entertainment at his brother’s company, who was also wearing one of the leather jackets, the line is identical to what he and Mr. Ramone used to wear when they were younger.

"We always wore tight black jeans, T-shirts and leather jackets," he said. "We were a punk metal band in New York playing at like CB’s and everywhere. In the early days, before King Flux, Tommy was actually our manager. He booked us in the clubs upstate and dressed us all in rock 'n' roll clothes he got from Manhattan."

The Daily Transom wondered if a designer line of punk clothing Mr. Ramone was a sign of selling out.

"It’s a very small capsule collection and we only have it in our own stores,” he replied. “It’s not like a celebrity line. It was inspired by Marky."

She air-kissed Ms. Blair, and then a quick hello to former tabloid editor Bonnie Fuller, who said, "I love your bangs!" Ms. Fuller was Twittering the show, but she accidentally referred to Ms. Hilfiger as "Tommy's daughter, Susie, adorable in new bangs, mini + T-strap stilletos." Susie is, in fact, Ally's mom.

"We just unpacked the garment bags so I've been steaming and getting the models dressed and getting everyone in first looks," Ms. Hilfiger told the Daily Transom. "Everything is going very smoothly so far, we're very organized. I don't believe in anxiety and my dad is the same way. For a show of this size, it's stupid to have anxiety of any sort because it's all going to work out in the end."

A few moments before Ms. Hilfiger came out, the Daily Transom spotted Anna Wintour being escorted backstage. Did the two cross paths?

"Oh, no, no, no," Ms. Hilfiger replied cautiously. "But I think she's fabulous. I say hi to her sometimes. But Carine Roitfeld came yesterday and I got to show her the clothes without the stylist. She said it's very chic, well made, and great quality."

And here Ms. Hilfiger really had to excuse herself; there was still more to do backstage.

"Right now I'm going to do last looks with the seamstress and do anything that they need me to do, but I also just try to stay out of people's way if they don't need me. Then I just sit there and organize the rings or something," she said. "Afterwards, everyone high-fives, hugs and says it's great. Then we just pack up, bring it back to the office and make sure the buyer's showroom is all set up for tomorrow."

"Well, like, today a lot of the samples came in and tomorrow everyone will be going in to unpack them. I will be unpacking boxes and steaming and organizing," said Ms. Hilfiger when the Daily Transom called to see what she was up to at her father's headquarters. "I’m really excited. The grunt work can be kind of fun. There are parts of the business that are glamorous and there are parts that aren’t."

Working for her father this season is just one of the things Ms. Hilfiger is doing to make a career for herself in the fashion industry. She's been working as a freelance stylist and building her portfolio. She hopes to get hired by an agency soon.

"As a freelancer, you get different gigs, and this just happens to be one of them," she said.

And of a course a clothing line of her own is also a possibility. But she doesn't want to rush into it and become another socialite whose redundant line gets canceled after the first collection.

"I know the work that goes into doing a clothing line and it’s a lot. So what I want to do is familiarize myself with all aspects of the business before I embark on anything," she said. "And I don’t believe in taking my family name for granted. I’d rather build myself as a worker first. When you start your own line, it’s usually better to have your own money and I’m making my own money now. So I want to do that, build myself up, and then maybe I can branch off and do my own thing."

Ms. Hilfiger said that she especially admires the business that Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen have been able to build with their clothing lines.

"I love The Row and Elizabeth & James. I think the Olsen twins have built an amazing brand with those two and I really respect and appreciate what they’ve been doing," she said. "My aesthetic is not as classic as my dad's. The clothes that I want to work on are clothes I would wear myself—hippiesh things. And I love the '70s and '60s and vintage."

Meanwhile, we wondered if the other employees at her father's company ever grew disgruntled over having to work with the boss's kid.

"No, no one has said anything. If someone needs to make a remark like that then they can make it, but I don’t have to know about it," said Ms. Hilfiger. "That’s not what it’s about. I believe in working my way from the bottom, so I refuse to get any special treatment."

A makeup-free Maggie Rizer, one of the evening's co-hosts, said the event was "all about incorporating young, up and coming artists with fashion—and I love fashion. If you don't support the young ones … Also, it benefits diabetes, which a few people in my family have." Rizer, whose father died of AIDS, is also working on a documentary on the subject, but said the project had been put on hold. "We're in the process of finding another production company."

The Daily Transom wondered if the current move away from conspicuous consumption-socialites finding it fashionable to stretch their salon appointments from every four weeks to every six!—might lead towards a dressing-down trend, but Rizer shot that theory down: "People tend to start dressing more expensively, I think ... People in fashion tend to do the opposite, anyway."

The recession was the unescapable theme of the night—even the ladies in the powder room were atwitter about much of the same: "I'm going to have to sell my shoes!" one said, prompting an anguished "Noooooo!" in reply.

Photographer and flâneur John Norwood was there, like a friendly uncle, eager to talk.

"People will actually start partying harder, but less often," he predicted. "A bartender friend of mine said during the week, it's slower now. But on weekends, it's crazy!" (The working-class ethic of partying reemerges!)

"I have to wonder if the lifestyle we're used to is going to continue. This is my fourth event tonight and it's only, what time is it, 9 o'clock?"

Another reporter remarked that the crowd was rather "pushy" for a benefit—"like a bunch of linebackers." Indeed, the sound of wineglasses breaking would punctuate the rest of the evening. A cater-waiter confirmed that the second-floor ballroom was more crowded than it had ever been.

But wait—there was Ally Hilfiger, daughter of fashion designer Tommy.

"Yes?" the tiny brunette replied brusquely, peering over the rims of her huge black-framed glasses, and stepping back into her heels, which she had kicked off. Her hair was twisted into a messy, intellectual bun.

Of her art, she said, "It's broadened and developed." Her previous paintings featured various iterations on the number eight. "It's very different now—I spent four months by myself painting [in the Caribbean]."

And now? "I'm starting my own collection of women's clothing." Inspired by? "Everything!" she said with a grin. She conceded that the recession was "a very big trend … I watch CNN and listen to NPR all day, every day, while I work. … We need to learn how to adjust, no matter which background we come from. We have to be very loving and supportive to each other during this economic crisis."

Heavily bearded artist Michael M. Koehler had two pieces in the show, both photographs from New Orleans. Speaking of hard times!

"The first wave of photography I saw from New Orleans—it was all these images with no people in them," he said. "I wanted to show that people's day-to-day struggles can be as beautiful as that image of a car up in a tree." One of his works, a 6-foot-high photograph, showed a stoic black man standing inside his post-Katrina house, with the high-water marks somewhere near the ceiling.

The show also included a cheeky work by Thomas McDonnell titled "Caucasians on Clinton Street Chewing Khat," clearly a comment on the street's gentrification.

Young Liam McMullan, in a lime green T-shirt, surveyed the scene from the back of the room. He had just written his first column for Page Six Magazine, a surprisingly funny, dry-humored scenester report. How's the editing process going? "Well, they dilute my snark and replace it with a little bit of douchebag ... but that's O.K."

Towards the end of the evening, it was announced that the benefit had raised over $150,000. As if on cue, another wineglass fell to the floor and shattered.

Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake will appear onstage with Madonna tonight in a performance so awesome that they will surely get back together. [US Weekly]

French philosopher Bernard-Henri Levy, who is married to actress Ariel, spent Election Night "getting cozy" with heiress Daphne Guinness. [R&M]

Robin Williams recently made a midnight visit to 23-year-old Ally Hilfiger's apartment, but it was probably just because his girlfriend was staying there. [P6]

Gossip Girl's Ed Westwick will star in a new print and television ad campaign for K-Swiss. [The Cut]

But then there is the shameful practice of advertising glittering guests who have not in fact confirmed that they’re attending.

This is what happened on Saturday, May 31, at Gallery Bar on the Lower East Side, during a fund-raiser for Artists for L.W.A.L.A. (Living with a Life-Long Ambition), a philanthropic organization that gets young people involved with Africa.

A press release for the event had promised 42 names, including habitual gala-goers Dabney Mercer, Byrdie Bell, Olivia Palermo, Ally Hilfiger, Alexandra Richards, Nigel Barker, Richie Rich and others.

But not one showed—not a one! Not even Kristian Laliberte, the event’s publicist, deigned to make an appearance.

So what went wrong?

“I think that the mix-up must have been that many of the expected attendees thought that the event was a typical summer fund-raiser in the city occurring during the work week,” said Mr. Laliberte’s partner, Timo Weiland. “Bottom line, I am thinking that the explanation is a leaky datebook combined with a few of the people not having been invited or reminded.” (Mr. Laliberte could not be reached.)

“Well, they definitely didn’t R.S.V.P. since this is the first I heard of it,” said Alan Rish, whose clients include Lydia Hearst and Ally Hilfiger, both of whom were listed as confirmed guests.“Lydia was with her boyfriend on Saturday, and maybe she would have gone, but she never even knew about it,” he said. “And Ally is out of town, so she definitely wouldn’t have been attending.”

Ms. Palermo’s publicist, Caroline Curtis, whom The Observer reached by phone, said, “Olivia had no recollection of being invited or R.S.V.P.-ing to the event.”

“Anybody who has been in New York longer than five minutes knows not to rely on tip sheets,” said Mr. Rish. “To expect Lydia or Ally to show at an event on the Lower East Side in the summertime is just unrealistic.”

“No one gets very upset about it, but it does reflect on Olivia directly because it makes her look flaky or not committed if someone uses her name as a definite and then she doesn’t show,” said Ms. Curtis. “So I wish this weren’t the case, but as a publicist I know that it absolutely happens.”

“She finds it a little frustrating, because then people think that she’s being petty and say, ‘Oh, she couldn’t show up for her own charity,’” Mr. Rish told The Observer.

Cinema Society founder Andrew Saffir, who hosts many of the city’s high-profile events—most recently organizing the Iron Man after-party with attendees like Gwyneth Paltrow, Diana Ross and Michael Kors—said, “Gosh, no, that is absolutely not O.K. No one wants their name on something that they don’t plan on attending. If you are advertised to attend, you’d certainly want to follow through.”

“Even I have found my name on tip sheets for things I either declined or hadn’t responded to,” he said.

ialeksander@observer.com

In the back of the long, tubular space on Broome Street called GoldBar, behind parted curtains of gold chain, he stands at his turntables. He’s wearing clunky headphones around his neck, one akimbo DJ-style, and a T-shirt of his own design, black with a gold skull in the center, a pack of Marlboro Reds rolled into the left sleeve.

The gold skull is picked up in the wallpaper pattern; not far away, a row of “thrones,” tall chairs upholstered in gold fabric, are lined along the bar.

Izzy Gold and GoldBar were formed separately, but the two found each other by text message. Applying for a job to DJ at the bar, which looks a lot more Los Angeles than New York, he texted Jayma Cardosa, one of the club’s owners, with the main thrust of his pitch.

“I was like, ‘Izzy Gold at GoldBar, doesn’t that sound really good?’” he remembered in a conversation with The Observer a few days before the present gig.

At 11 p.m. on this particular night, GoldBar was pretty empty. The tables are dotted with girls dressed in high-cocktail, comparing shoes, and nervous-looking Wall Street types who are footing the bill for the $17 drinks.

“The place doesn’t usually fill up until about 12 p.m. or 1 a.m.,” Mr. Gold explained to The Observer between sets. “Sometimes I’ll just have my head down, doing the music, and then suddenly I’ll look up and it’s like, pow! The whole place is full.”

Last week, he had one of those pow moments when Linda Evangelista showed up with a friend. The friend approached the DJ booth and asked him to play George Michael’s song “Freedom.” Linda Evangelista starred in the 1990 video for the song; Izzy Gold was 8 years old. But in 2008, the irony was not lost on him.

Until a couple of years ago, Mr. Gold was known by everybody as Francesco Civetta. “Everybody” has included designer Tommy Hilfiger’s daughter Ally (whom he counts among his closest friends), former Olivia Palermo dater Brad Leinhardt and Ivanka Trump, whom he’s known since seventh grade.

His new moniker came to him in June 2006. The New York University film student was watching a documentary about the boxer Rocky Marciano, whose promoter was named Izzy Gold.

“I just thought, ‘Wow that’s a cool name for a brand,” he said. “It’s also like a play on words, like Izzy Gold—is he gold?—you know?”

He boasts that even his parents call him Izzy.

“I started calling him Izzy in front of photographers and press,” Ally Hilfiger told The Observer. And now, the brand name “Izzy Gold” has become the person, Izzy Gold.

“It was just going to be for the public, to build the brand,” he said. “And [my parents] always called me Francesco. But now this year they started calling me Izzy.”

“My dad has a thick Italian accent so it comes out more like “eezzee.”

That night a couple of Saturdays ago, after he played “Freedom,” Linda sent over a bottle of Champagne as a thank-you.

This kind of back-and-forth between Izzy Gold and the Manhattan celebrity-socialite matrix is an inherited trait. Which explains, in part, why Mr. Gold is not called Mr. Civetta.

His father, Nicola Civetta, whom he describes as a descendent of Italian nobility, ran the nightclub Regine’s on Park Avenue and 59th Street in the 1970s—“it was like Studio 54 before Studio 54 existed”—and then became the owner of the restaurant Primavera, on First Avenue between 82nd and 83rd streets, where Mr. Gold said he grew up around celebrities.

When Mr. Gold was 4 years old, the photographer Richard Avedon was a friend of his father’s and a regular at the restaurant.

“I met him several times; he was really good friends with Dad,” Mr. Gold explained later. “He often brought over books of his that came out and gave them to my dad. I was very inspired by Avedon.”

As a Christmas present, Avedon took pictures of Mr. Gold and his mother and brother. There’s a funny Sears-kid-portrait element to Izzy’s, which hangs in Mr. Gold’s apartment on East 82nd Street. He said his brother was photographed with an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth and aviator sunglasses covering his eyes. He doesn’t really remember the shoot, but he said his mother “dressed [them] up” for it.

He recalls a time when he was 7 years old and his father introduced him to Mike Nichols and Harrison Ford, who were dining together.

“I’m still kicking myself for going up to Harrison Ford being like, ‘You’re Indiana Jones!’ and not realizing who Nichols was at the time. I mean that’s like The Graduate!”

His mother is Peggy Neuman, a Minnesota beauty queen-turned-supermodel who was with the Ford agency in the ’70s and met his father at Regine’s.

“I think my dad wanted me to run the restaurant, but it’s not in me. I have always been a free spirit and just did what I wanted.”

But he admits that his family has been in service to Manhattan society for decades now; it may just be a question of what services society requires today.

Today, it seems, it is necessary to be a DJ, painter, T-shirt designer, record producer, film producer and gallerist. At any rate, that is what Izzy Gold, now mostly a DJ and T-shirt designer, wants for himself.

“I had the ultimate dream a couple of years ago of doing a multifaceted company that encompasses art, film, music, fashion and entertainment,” said Mr. Gold.

“Who knows, maybe in a few years we’ll open up a restaurant,” Mr. Gold said. “It’s an interesting parallel, but it makes sense in that we’re providing a service for those people.

IZZY GOLD IS a sweet guy. He has perfectly shaggy brown hair: greasy but not too greasy, a little tousled, just enough of it in his face to require frequent and casual brushing-away to the side. His five-day shadow is just a bit more than what a stylist might call for in a male model; just possibly not precision-engineered. And he is shorter and plushier than he looks in the many party photos of him on socialite-photographer Patrick McMullan’s Web site. His Blackberry goes off a lot with in
coming e-mails, although often it’s just junk mail or Verizon phone bills. He actually smokes those Marlboro Reds he rolls up into his skull-T-shirt sleeves while DJ-ing at GoldBar.

The T-shirt line is an outgrowth of the paintings Mr. Gold has been doing since high school. It started at the Browning School, when he began making the kind of art his parents friends’ would likely have admired; he still makes these kinds of paintings when he can.

“I would say Warhol and Basquiat are my influences,” he said.

But he is also a little bit like the kid that goes home after seeing Superman and draws the red-caped hero all over his schoolbooks, his guitar case, his Chuck Taylors. The childlike quality is only underscored by his tendency to refer to his paintings as “artwork.” Then again, all this might make him more like Warhol or Basquiat than many might care to admit.

In general the formula is to superimpose an image, or “icon” as he calls it, of a character from his favorite movies, like Scarface or Taxi Driver; then there’s the paint.

Four months before Avedon died, Mr. Gold said, he was at his father’s restaurant, and Mr. Gold gave him a piece of art he’d done: a likeness of Audrey’s Hepburn’s character in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, painted over newspaper à la Jasper Johns.

“He asked me if I wanted to go work at the studio, and he would show me how to do some things,” he said. “I feel silly that I never took him up on it then.”

He sold his first paintings to “private collectors” for up to $4,000 a piece at age 18. Mr. Civetta majored in film at New York University, but left four credits short of graduation. “For what I’m doing nobody asks me for a college degree, or like a diploma or anything,” he said.

The T-shirts Mr. Gold produces look a lot like his paintings and sell at boutiques like Caravan and Big Drop for $60 and more; socialite and All My Children actress Leven Rambin, a friend, has been wearing them. Friends like Ms. Hilfiger and Sean Lennon have contributed designs to the line.

One of his most popular images, the one that started as a painting but appears now on his business cards and one of his T-shirts, is an ode to Robert De Niro’s character in Taxi Driver—the Mohawk and sunglasses version.

Martin Scorsese, he said, smiled at him when he saw him wearing the shirt at the recent premiere of Shine a Light.

Mr. Gold says that his t-shirt line was funded entirely with money he made from his DJ gig and from "selling artworks." For his newer projects that include a record label, he was fortunate enough to find investors.

The Izzy Gold record label is headed up by Chris Young, who has produced albums by Ashlee Simpson and the Raveonettes. And since Mr. Gold likes to include his friends in his mini-empire, Ms. Rambin and Liam McMullan—yes, that’s Patrick’s son—have signed on to produce records with him.

Brad Leinhardt, another one of Mr. Gold’s close friends, is a partner in the business.

“The difference between Gen Y and Gen X is that you used to have to have a talent to become famous,” he said while he mingled in the Saturday night GoldBar crowd. “But now you can just be famous if people can relate to you.”

“The ideal plan for Izzy Gold is to have everything under one roof, so we’re looking for a building that will have a storefront, a gallery and maybe also a club where I can DJ.”

“I’ve been talking to some friends in the nightclub industry about getting it on,” he said.

He hopes to have this plan actualized by this fall.

MR. GOLD HAS been watching the show Gossip Girl. He often reads the plot lines of his own intricate network of Manhattan friends and acquaintances into the plot.

“L.A. has their actresses, and we have our socialites,” he said.

But each has a way of turning into the other. Mr. Gold has recently dropped off some clothing for the show’s stylists.

“They were like, ‘We’d love to use this because socialites actually wear your clothes and you’re socialites,’ and we were like, ‘No we’re not!’”

Because Izzy Gold, like all socialites, hates the “socialite” moniker.

“I think it means I’m doing something right that people want to snap my picture,” he said. “But I think people have started hating on me a bit due to all the media coverage.”

He doesn’t have a publicist yet.

“Apparently I should have one,” he said.

A: According to a HELLO MY NAME IS sticker on Izzy Gold’s Web site:

I WAS BORN IN NYC
I’M A ROUGH TOUGH BADASS
BUT…
WASH ME COLD, TUMBLE ME DRY
AND DON’T FORGET
IZZY GOLD KNOWS!!!

Mr. Gold was born in New York and raised both here and in Arezzo, Italy. He designs a line of T-shirts including one that is called Kiss Kiss inspired by a 1996 Patrick McMullan book of the same name. One of Mr. Gold's dear friends is Ally Hilfiger; in fact one is rarely spotted very far from the other of a New York evening. Ms. Hilfiger guest-designed a special T-shirt for his line and they’ve collaborated on art works that were displayed at the Chelsea Art Museum.

According to his Web site, Mr. Gold is also launching a new clothing line called Beauty, “consisting of dresses, hoodie dresses, and tanks.”

Mr. Gold’s real name is Francesco Civetta, but he goes by Izzy Gold because "Izzy Gold was Rocky Marciano's boxing promoter,” and he thought it sounded like a “cool name,” he told Women’s Wear Daily. The daily published a piece on Mr. Gold today because it wanted to know if his name had anything to do with GoldBar—where Mr. Gold D.J.'s on Saturday nights and which has gold-leafed ceilings and a gold-plated bar. It doesn't! He came up with "Izzy Gold" a year and a half before he started working at GoldBar. WWD also reports that he spins for the likes of Lenny Kravitz, Cameron Diaz and John Mayer, whom Mr. Gold told the paper is such a low talker that his requests to the D.J. booth have to be written down.

“You may see Izzy dining at one of Manhattan's finest Italian restaurants, hustling on the Bowery, spinning music, working on films, or just rocking out with a gaggle of models, celebrities, and/or socialites,” he says of himself on his Web site.