Andrew Rosen, left, with Olivier Theyskens.

Fashion mega-moguls Diane von Furstenberg and Theory’s Andrew Rosen are co-chairing the nonprofit Meatpacking District Improvement Association fund-raiser at an event called “Open Market,” transforming two entire levels of the Highline Stages into a visual homage to the early days of the Meatpacking District. Honestly, all we remember is the long bathroom line at Jackie 60, tranny hookers and smelly meat carcasses. There is also an eating and shopping spree—two things that aren’t exactly a marriage made in size-zero heaven—with sale booths by designers like DVF, rag & bone, Tory Burch, Theory, Helmut Lang, Intermix and gourmet grub by The Standard, The Tippler, Morimoto and Del Posto, to check off just a few. We are sold just on the name rag & bone and will nibble some Morimoto sushi as we dance off lbs. to the bpms of deejay hipster elites The Misshapes and J.D. Samson of Le Tigre. There is also a silent auction offering a chance to take home an Evolve electric motorcycle, JetBlue flight packages, a getaway to Turks & Caicos (have our yoga mats ready please, Donna Karan) and a rag & bone shopping spree.

The Highline Stages, 441 West 14th Street, (212) 206-8280, 7-11pm.

DvF and Mitch: lovers once, buddies forever!

As we sloshed, caked with snow flurries, into the Mandarin Oriental for the 2012 Phoenix House Fashion award dinner last Wednesday evening, we couldn’t determine whether it was the way-too-early winter outside, the Sandy-forced relocation or the early start after an endless election season, but at first glance, things looked a bit quiet. (In retrospect, we appreciated the venue upgrade, considering it was originally slated to take place at Pier 60.)

“Well there’s Linda Fargo, at least ...” we uttered to a weary-eyed publicist as she sashayed passed us in a crisp black sheath dress, before we sauntered downstairs to cocktail hour.

Below, on the 35th floor, the considerably more lively and notable fashion crowd imbibed, heedless of the blizzard-like winds that howled without mercy on the commoners struggling to get around Columbus Circle.

With the exception of Glenda Bailey, this didn’t feel like a typical fashion event; nay, it was considerably more corporate—a bit cliquey, but not necessarily in a bad way. Dashing executives (well mostly dashing) in flamboyant tailored suits sipped scotch and red wine, while a more demure population of women squawked about recent highs and lows.

This reeked of powerful retail and media industry figures rather than overcompensated stylists and over-photographed fashion mavens.

The Observer wasn’t feeling particularly social, but we decided to meander aimlessly about the lobby, gorging ourselves with vegetable spring rolls every time they passed.

Eventually, someone had the brilliance to ring the dinner gong and get the show on the road.

“You’re stuck with me,” laughed Rose Marie Bravo, the fashion branding and commerce star, as she welcomed the Phoenix House patrons now enjoying their first plating around candlelit tables. She apologized for emcee Ali Wentworth, who was “lost somewhere in the city.”

“This past week has been a tragic one,” she continued. “Many of our friends have been left homeless or without power.” She went on to explain what Phoenix House does: it helps thousands of people struggling with substance abuse and addiction through its pioneering treatment program. For a second or two, The Observer stopped sipping. But only a second or two.

Seated before us was honoree Jim Gold, president of The Neiman Marcus Group; Tory Burch, evasive and on high alert with her pending lawsuit against ex-husband Chris Burch still ablaze; and Calvin Klein’s Francisco Costa. The weather was most likely to blame for the empty seats, and there was substantial mention of Hurricane Sandy and its affect on the Phoenix House community.

“Substance abuse is an epidemic that plagues the USA,” began Phoenix House CEO Howard Meitiner.

He was followed by a young client of Phoenix House, who spoke of his history with drug abuse, dealing and violence. It was simple, honest and very effective. He said he is now rightly on track, working toward a degree in social work.

“Drug abuse can happen to anyone’s child,” said Mr. Meithner, then diving into the politics and ethos of the drug culture in America.

“But recovery is achievable and sustainable,” he concluded, just as Ali Wentworth, our long-lost emcee, finally stampeded in.

“I’ve got a husband who said, ‘I’ve just done 36 hours of ABC election coverage! You’re gonna get into bed with me!’” she blurted to our disbelief, about her hubby, George Stephanopoulos.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, not only was the fabulous hostess late because she was having a roll in the hay, she announced it to us all! Our kind of gal. And poor George, election aside, he must have still been shell-shocked by his co-host’s odd drunken-like behavior on election night—Cheers, Diane!

“They messengered this to me,” Ms. Wentworth continued, exposing a shiny Olivier Theyskens for Theory blazer that kept her décolletage in check.

“I thought I was chic, but maybe I’m just a shoplifter!”

We decided right then and there that we all wanted to leave and go home with Ali Wentworth.

Our hostess extraordinaire thankfully kept the pace brisk as we cruised into the awards segment. Monsieur Theyskens gave a poignant and astute speech before plopping a Phoenix House award in the hands of Andrew Rosen. The CEO of Theory then delivered a heartfelt personal story of his own family’s struggle with addiction and praised the Phoenix House for its wonderful work.

Tina Brown, editor in chief of Newsweek/The Daily Beast, made an anticipated handoff to Diane von Furstenberg. We never got to pester her with our gossipy questions about her publication’s demise.

“Diane is a vision broker,” Ms. Brown professed.

Once DvF accept her award, she dove into a tale of how she first met Phoenix House Founder Mitchell S. Rosenthal. Apparently Ms. von Furstenberg had mistaken the addiction innovator for ’80s star Chris Sarandon, whom she mistakenly referred to as Chris Rock. “He was hot,” she said.

“Then I got to know more about Mitch Rosenthal. I’ll spare you the details ...”

The romantic jaunts of the fashion queen brought the crowd great delight.

“This young, smashing man who looked like Chris Sarandon—created this place where shame was not an issue,” Ms. von Furstenberg gushed.

“I really want to make sure that we all raise our glass to this special man!”

At that flawless declaration, we lifted our glass, emptied it, and dashed downtown, to partake in rowdier action at Le Baron—alas, without Ali Wentworth.

Andrew Rosen closes deal on Greenwich Village penthouse.

While it was rumored earlier this year that Theory honcho Andrew Rosen was paying more than $12.5 million for a four-bedroom penthouse at the St. Vincent condo conversion 130 West 12th Street, now there's proof. City records show that Mr. Rosen paid $13 million, a bit of a price bump over the $12.8 million that the sponsor unit was asking.

The building has a way of getting buyers to pay more than the retail value. Rosie O'Donnell also plunked down a little extra cash for her duplex penthouse, paying $50,000 above the sticker price. Maybe Mr. Rosen should bring on Stribling brokers Alexa Lambert and Sean Turner to help shill his company's clothes.

The garmento's new living room.

Details on Mr. Rosen's new four-bedroom, 3.5-bath home are scarce, given Stribling's super-generic listing. But it would appear to be the 3,800-square-foot, floor-through uber-penthouse, if we may call it that. Said penthouse boats 2,200-square feet of wrap-around terraces and wood-burning fireplaces in the living and dining rooms. Mr. Rosen is relocating from a 49th-floor duplex in Columbus Circle.

Interiors, if Mr. Rosen chooses to keep them, are by Cook + Fox Architects, but we certainly expect that he'll want to put his personal stamp on the space. He is, after all, the macher who is creating the closest thing America has to luxury empires like LVMH or Gucci, if you take Anna Wintour's word for it.

Alas, even with all that terrace space, we don't suppose Mr. Rosen will be able to stable any of the two dozen race horses he owns.  At least he can compare penthouses with fellow rag trader and friend Mickey Drexler, who snapped up a Tribeca "mansion in the sky" earlier this year.

kvelsey@observer.com

An exclusive backstage photo from The Observer's Wang-insider/tipster.

American fashion design has seen an exciting new crop of talented youngsters creep onto the scene. Creatives such as Joseph Altuzarra, Jack McCollough and Lazaro Hernandez of Proenza Schouler, Alexander Wang, Jason Wu and Prabal Gurung have received a great deal of attention—and rightfully so. The majority of this bunch thrive on fanfare—not always on the design of their clothes, but on their front-rows, frantic check-ins and backstage dramas.

The Proenza Schouler duo, after several seemingly shaky years, have quickly become darlings of the global fashion elite, continually present interesting and attractive collections. Now sitting more comfortably with financial investments from Theory Group’s Andrew Rosen and a glossy new David Adjaye-designed boutique (albeit too damn dark to see any of the merch), its safe to say they are no longer emerging.

Mr. Altuzarra’s nomadic, opulent materials and prints seem to satiate the critics. Since PR Consulting has never invited us to one of his magical shows, we’ll let him be.

Jason Wu’s nearly flawless technique and practical glamour—not to mention being a favorite of first lady Michelle Obama—means he’s fine and dandy.

Same for Thakoon Panichgul.

The Observer will save Prabal Gurung, whose miscellaneous but splendid collection delivered a meager dose of sensationalism, mostly by way of models, for later …

The most interesting “up-and-coming” designer to The Observer is Mr. Wang.

Alexander Wang’s street-friendly sportswear, with its less daunting price tag and edgy wearability, enabled the designer’s swift and massive surge to the top. The party vixen created clothing that catered to his entourage of downtown creatures—models, anorexic rich brats, svelte power gays, artsy drunks—with a cost-effective production (even though a lawsuit claims allegations of sweatshop conditions!). It's no Ralph Lauren or Michael Kors, but the Soho boutique is crawling with new money eager to pounce, and one insider reported that sales are robust.

“He came on the scene just at the right time,” former Barneys bigwig Julie Gilhart was quoted as saying in New York magazine in 2011. Indeed he did.

The Observer is all too guilty of getting wrapped up in the Wang mystique. His shows are electrifying—a circus of outré celebs, aggressive fashion mavens and top-notch models. It’s sensationalism—perhaps even smoke and mirrors, except there is always something to covet. This is followed by the perennial blackout nights of mayhem at his costly, booze-fueled after-parties. But hey! Mr. Wang and his baby empire can afford it.

Look 14: Jordan Dunn. (PMc)

This season, Mr. Wang and his team returned to Pier 94. Tyson Chandler, Karen Elson, Justin Theroux, Sia, ASAP Rocky and Die Antwoord all showed up Saturday, September 8 to witness Mr. Wang's presentation of patch pocket separates, outerwear pieces with cut-outs or “zebra-embroidery,” and weird textured skirts and shorts in onyx, glacier white and desert sand. There were hints of menswear tailoring on shirts, fishline craziness and skeletal knee-high sandals that had people clawing with desire. For luxurious touches, Mr. Wang and co. used stingray detailing and crocodile beading.

It would be nearly impossible to top of the pack of supermodels, led by Gisele Bündchen, who stormed the runway at last year’s conclusion. Nonetheless, a gaggle of top models marched out in all-white looks. The lights dimmed and all their couture turned glow-in-the-dark.

The crowd ate it up like hotcakes, The Observer included. Tacky and stupidly club-kid-esque? Perhaps, but it was fashion entertainment at its American best.

But is this pot of fabulousness and spectacle about to bubble over?

One person, who wasn’t enjoying the fashion feast was New York Times critic Cathy Horyn.

“Mr. Wang ended with his white dresses being lit up like neon glow sticks, but the mood couldn’t be sustained,” Ms. Horyn wrote in the Times on September 9. “But, despite the styling of Karl Templer, who knows how to sharpen a designer’s message, Mr. Wang’s fancifully sliced-up clothes seemed to hit a wall. They had focus in terms of minimalist shape and futuristic textures, but there was no moment of uplift. A glow-stick snap of radiance isn’t enough.”

A bit harsh.

Die Antwoord Spreads the creepiness at Alexander Wang's after-party. (PMc)

The Observer would argue (not that we are deemed fit to challenge the legendary Ms. Horyn) that Mr. Wang’s shticks are exactly aligned with his boisterous lifestyle and extravagantly unfocused glamazon clientele. While we all might have been distracted by the blow-’n’-glow finale, The Observer is already sorting out the finances to scoop up a few of those garments and accessories. The scattered message rang loud and clear: Rave on!

People's Revolution publicist Kelly Cutrone has signed an eight-episode deal with Bravo for a reality show. [Page Six] 

Among the new victims of Bernie Madoff's schemes: Theory president and co-founder Andrew Rosen, Fur Vault Inc. founder Fred Schwartz, and gallery owner Barbara Gladstone. [WWD]  

PETA is urging celebrities to boycott Armani while choosing their Oscars wardrobe because Giorgio Armani has broken his promise to the organization that he would no longer use fur in his collections. [Vogue UK] 

Hermes International said that "robust" holiday sales brought its fourth quarter revenues up by 6.2 percent to 540.9 million euros, or $713.4 million. [WWD]