The model unit's dining room.

It does not number among the most gracious edifices that line Park Avenue, but now that its conversion to luxury condos is almost complete 530 Park Avenue is trying to command the same lofty prices as its more elegant neighbors.

A three-bedroom, four-bath duplex, No. 15B, has made its market debut asking $9.85 million. (A four-bedroom on a lower floor was listed for the same price in late October.) From the listing description—all baths are marble, there's a library, a formal dining room and Park Avenue views—it seems to be doing a pretty good job of aping its more elite neighbors. Although the building's new deep-pocketed residents will have to share their common space with the remaining renters protected by rent-stabilization laws.

Prestigious, but it's no 740 Park.

As of this summer, 36 renter-occupied units remained in the 116-unit building. Bianca Jagger, who recently lost her years-long battle to retain her rent controlled unit (and was ordered to pay $708, 600 in back rent and legal fees), is no longer among them. On the bright side, buyers need's placate a fussy co-op board in order to enjoy herringbone wood floors or the building's billiard table-endowed library.

No. 15B has 2,700 square feet loaded with fancy gadgets and finishes: a Subzero refrigerator, Bertazzoni oven, Wolf microwave and oven, Bosch dishwasher, Italian porcelain, crema marfil walls and "views onto Park Avenue from every window" which sounds alluring at first, but probably means that there is only one exposure. We have yet to hear back from the building's sales director Kuyomi Yamada.

We expect more units to hit the market in the coming days; according to the building's website the cheapest unit is an alcove studio just over 600 square feet that is trying to get $1.6 million and the most expensive is a sprawling spread on the third floor (it looks to be the building's largest at 3,405 square-feet) asking $11.7 million. No units are yet in contract, according to Streeteasy.com. White brick is not as looked down upon as it once was, or at least, it has good company if, as Paul Goldberger says, glass is the new white brick. Nearby Manhattan House is also counting on the construction material's renaissance.

kvelsey@observer.com

Creative Director Francisco Costa alongside Diane Kruger, Emma Stone and Amy Adams.

We love the clean lines and abstract nature of Francisco Costa’s designs for Calvin Klein Collection. Of Brazilian descent, he has an unmatchable talent for creating wearable art that is minimal and wearable—perhaps the only one who provides a Parisian level of artistic thrills in New York.

We had some time to spare before the show began—a departure from our general habit of sprinting four blocks and arriving sweaty and out of breath at the last minute. We left our seat-mates Bianca Jagger, Julie Macklowe and Kelly Klein, to name a few, to explore the front rows.

Amy Adams, Diane Kruger, Emma Stone and photographer Patrick Demarchelier were all present, but our vigilant eyes sought out someone less obvious: W Magazine’s Fashion and Style Director, Edward Enninful.

“What are some of the highlights for you?” The Observer asked.

"September is the January of fashion," said Edward Enniful, who was flanked by Hollywood's hottest.

“Oh my goodness, there have been a couple of really great shows. I really enjoyed Proenza [Schouler]. I really enjoyed Rodarte, Marc Jacobs,” he replied, browsing the endless catalog of styles he had presumably witnessed in the past week; an unbearable fashion overload, it seems.

“How have you enjoyed W and growing there?” we carried on.

“With a great team, there is so much freedom ... It kinda of encourages you to do the best you can. We’re having a ball!” Mr. Enninful told The Observer.

Indeed, but is the ball worthwhile, we wanted to know. “Why is fashion week so important for stylists?”

“It’s like the Oscars of fashion. It’s like a get-together on one hand, and you decide how the whole year is going to be, how the whole season is going to be mapped out. September is the January of fashion.”

Well put. We bid adieu to Mr. Enniful, who was off to London in a few hours for more style and mayhem.

There was a sense of powerful austerity and dark romance for spring 2013, and it delivered a bold, physical (read: sexualized) reaction. There is a curiosity to the clothing, one that our fashion eyes could not decipher. Chiaroscuro, cinched waists and overemphasized busts, and innovative fabrics captured the fashion frenzy’s weary attention. The looks featured interesting moiré appearances, glossy leathers layered over tranquil matte crepes and cotton voiles in muted black, reed and cream colors. It highlighted a richness that was not opulently crass.

Looks from the spring 2013 collection.

A novice would have likened the proportions of several dresses to rolls of toilet paper under silk or waxed netting over a cage, but such individuals shouldn’t even be permitted to grace a Calvin Klein Collection boutique.

To end with a bang is no small feat after innumerable ready-to-wear collections of relatively unmoving, routinely practical and safe proportions. American’s sportswear isn’t in a rut; it just is what it is. How lucky we are to have Calvin Klein’s Mr. Costa. We don’t have any callous commentary, just rare bliss, which sadly ended the moment we exited onto ghastly, repulsive 39th Street.

Bianca Jagger must pay $708,600 in back rent. [WSJ]

Shares in Martha Stewart swan dive. [WWD]

MTA hikes, unsurprisingly met with anger. [NYT]

Both the Post and the Daily News examine the dark secrets of Chelsea's future in-laws. [NYP/NYDN]

New Kindles Today. [BloombergBusinessWeek]

That's more like it: higher standards mean half of all New York students fail their English and Math tests. [NYT]

Student sues NYPD after spending the night in prison for bringing her dog on the subway. [NYP]

Woody Allen is having a hard time directing Carla Bruni. [NYDN]

Mortons holds NYPD vs. FDNY cookout. [WSJ]

"Primary residence is a term of art," her lawyer said before the decision. "She wants her apartment back."

“Why the hell,” as New York magazine understandably put it, “does someone like Bianca Jagger get to have a rent-stabilized apartment, anyway?”

The New York Sun: “New York’s price controls on rent are so silly and socialistic that they deserve to be wiped off the books.”

At present over 1.04 million apartments protect roughly two million residents from what’s this year become the most viciously expensive apartment market in New York’s living memory. Rents reached records by October: A studio in a nondoorman building below 100th Street in Manhattan fetched an average of $2,151, according to a report from brokerage The Real Estate Group New York.

Mick Jagger’s ex (and interior designer Jade Jagger’s mom) had been paying $4,614 a month under the myriad of state laws that govern rent regulation, including stabilization. Ms. Jagger, a British citizen, could not keep the place, the judge ruled, because she was in the U.S. on a temporary tourist visa, according to the Associated Press.

Opponents of rent stabilization often assert that stabilization helps drive up the rents of market-rate apartments and then helps keep the rents high. Their logic runs like this: that the artificially low rents on stabilized apartments force landlords to raise rents on market-rate ones.

Not necessarily—or, to be exact, no one really knows.

It’s up to landlords if they want to raise market-rate apartment rents to compensate for any lost profit from owning stabilized ones as well. The system devised by the state does not put the onus on market-rate apartments to fund stabilized ones in any sort of one-to-one correlation—apartments are stabilized based on the construction or renovation dates of buildings—and no such correlation outside of state law has been proven.

In a city where market-rate apartments (including owner-occupied ones) outnumber stabilized apartments over two to one, the idea of the struggling landlord seems laughable. Indeed, if any do feel squeezed by ownership of stabilized apartments, the state offers hardship benefits if they can prove they’re not turning enough of a profit, according to the city’s Rent Guidelines Board.

Mostly, objection to rent stabilization stems from that unexamined contempt for an imagined class of freeloading rich people working the system: that someone with the means to pay market rate will land in an apartment—sometimes an opulent apartment—with an artificially low rent that’s likely to last for that person’s lifetime. It’s almost impossible for landlords to turn an occupied stabilized apartment market-rate.

The greater danger is not that a few wealthy individuals slip into stabilized apartments but that literally millions of New Yorkers would be tossed into an apartment market where rents have become unhinged from market realities.

Like studios, larger apartments’ rents have ascended to all-time highs in many places. In Manhattan, the average rent for a one-bedroom in a nonluxury building below 100th Street was nearly $3,000 by the end of October, according to The Real Estate Group; for two-bedrooms of similar quality, it was $4,069. Meanwhile, a report out last week from investment-sales firm Marcus & Millichap concluded that the vacancy rate for Manhattan buildings with at least 40 apartments would stay below 3 percent for the next several months.

If anything, the market rate seems just as unmoored from market forces as stabilized apartments—yes, demand dictates price, and landlords should be able to charge legally what they can get, but price has grown beyond value in many cases. After all, no one would buy a lawn mower for $10,000 simply because he or she needed a lawn mower; there are alternatives to lawn-mowing.

For housing in New York City, what’s the alternative to opting out of the rental market—the sales market? That’s even more expensive. Westchester County? Jersey City? A box under the Brooklyn Bridge?

The median household income in New York City was an estimated $46,480 in 2006, according to the Census Bureau, below the U.S. median. Rent-stabilization provides a bulwark against the grim math of living with New York City housing, something Bianca Jagger, after 20 years, has to confront (though press reports do say she has another place in London). Don’t envy her.

A New York Sun editorial asks today: "... why should the taxpayers of New York have provided a wealthy woman for more than 20 years the benefit of a below-market-rate Park Avenue apartment?"

Curbed answers back, though, with one of the most coldly thorough defenses ever of rent-stabilization, which keeps about 1 million apartments in the city below market rate:

Ms. Jagger's landlord had sued her, claiming the apartment could not be her primary residence because she was in the United States on a tourist visa. Ms. Jagger is a British citizen and has another apartment in London. For her part, Ms. Jagger claimed the landlord only sued her because she sued the landlord in 2003 over mold in the apartment.

Either way, there's one more market-rate apartment in New York City and one less stabilized one. Light a candle and play Let It Bleed.

In the late 1960's and early 70's, people rarely got married-and when they did, it was always incumbent on the bride to drag up in some alternative, anti-traditional mode, like a sun dress with smocking or something. Then the preppy Gen Xers and Yers arrived, vaunting the values of their grandparents and heralding the return of old-fashioned nuptials, which was all quite novel and refreshing, especially if you were in the bridal-cake or frock business.

For the last 10 years, traditional bridal style-cream-puff crinolines and poufs-à-go-go-has been the norm, but change is in the air.

Twenty-first-century brides are finding it a wee bit retarded to spend piles of cash on a frock when, for the same amount, you could fly to Marrakech and have a week of self-indulgence and shagging at La Mamounia Hotel.

This is not, I hasten to add, a rallying cry to return to the hippie-dippie approach. Here, therefore, are some alternatives to that old get-married-in-a-field-holding-a-dandelion stuff:

1. Wear someone else's dress. Who's keeping score? If you wore the dress of a same-size chum, how would anyone ever find out? And if they did, wouldn't they think you were just the canniest, chic-est, hippest chick on earth?

2. Red! Red! Red! It was good enough for Winona Ryder in Beetlejuice -not to mention half the population of China-and it's good enough for you. A gorgeous red wedding dress has manifold advantages: People will say, "Why is she wearing red? It's not like she's such a major tramp or anything," as opposed to, "Can you believe that old slag has the audacity to wear a pure white dress?" Post-ceremony, simply slice it off at the knees-leaving the seams raw- et voila ! A sassy, deconstructed frock with matching stole for fall cocktail parties. For a chic, red chiffon Lady Macbeth/Goth number with long medieval sleeves, go see Korean designer Haneza at 93 Grand Street, 343-9373; expect to spend about $2,000. Meanwhile, budget brides should check out the selection of dragon-embroidered Chinese wedding dresses at Pearl River Mart, 200 Grand Street, 966-1010.

3. Do a Bianca. The best wedding outfit of all time was Bianca Jagger's simple white Yves Saint Laurent suit with short skirt and floppily glam white hat, which she wore in 1971 when she and Mick got hitched in Saint Tropez. The one drawback: Such an ensemble has to be perfectly constructed, so you may have to shell out some shekels and kiss off the Mamounia. "This is a fantastic look, but it has to be tailored to perfection so it looks tough," said bridal czarina Vera Wang, whom I caught between frantic fittings. "It cannot look sweet. Bianca wore it with platforms, but I would go with a pointy stiletto sling-back." A Vera Wang suit in grain de poudre (the same lightweight wool that Yves himself always used) will set you back about $4,000. Call 628-3400.

Bianca may or may not have taken her Y.S.L. to the cleaners, but she definitely took Mick there when she hired lawyer Marvin Mitchelson to extract her divorce settlement. (The trouble began the morning of the wedding, when Mick-whom Bianca would later redundantly dub a "penny-pinching Scrooge"-presented his bride-to-be with a prenup, which must account for her glum expression in photos of the occasion.) Anyway, I was delighted to find out that Mr. Mitchelson is still practicing in Los Angeles; his number-just in case-is 323-874-0554. Have a fabulous life!

Ms. Tooker is the chapeau designer who creates the confections worn by many of the ladies who lunch, including those who attend the annual Conservatory luncheon in Central Park. Among her clients are Caroline Kennedy Schlossberg, Hillary Clinton and Bianca Jagger. And she created the pale-yellow straw bonnet, trimmed with French silk flowers, worn by Debby Oxley, owner of Monarchos, in the winner's circle at the Kentucky Derby.

In other words, Ms. Tooker's hats, which cost anywhere from $300 to $1,500, aren't the sort of thing one leaves out in the rain-or the sun, for that matter. But a Tooker employee, perhaps mistaking the mean streets of Manhattan for the countryside of Provence, left a peach straw hat hanging outside the store at 2:30 p.m. on June 10 in an effort to bleach the color.

When she went to retrieve the headwear, which was valued at $400, she discovered that some fashionista had absconded with it.

Parking Problems

Annoying and time-consuming as police stops can be, when an officer orders you to the side of the road, it's probably best to comply, as a livery cab driver discovered on June 23.

The suspect was driving his fare, a woman and her baby, down Lexington Avenue when a police car pulled him over for working as an "unlicensed for-hire." The cop made eye contact with the driver, who nonetheless decided to keep going, even though the lady was screaming at him to stop and let her and her baby out.

The perp eventually did, pulling over at 82nd Street and Lexington Avenue, where the woman paid her fare and jumped out of the cab with her baby. The cabby, who was driving a 1987 Lincoln, drove off again before the cop could catch him, but stopped at Lexington Avenue and 86th Street.

It wasn't that he'd decided in the interim that the officer had his best interests in mind. Rather, he found himself boxed in by an ambulance, an ambulette and a medallion cab.

The cop finally caught up with the vehicle and ordered the suspect to get out. But the cabby still failed to see the writing on the wall and went into what might be described as "hibernation mode," were one discussing personal computers rather than cabbies with possible rap sheets.

The suspect refused repeated requests to disembark, according to the officer, and even locked his doors. So the cop, showing that impressive improvisational thinking for which the NYPD is known, went around to the passenger side of the vehicle, broke the window, opened the door and placed the car in park.

He told the driver, who had a Jamaican accent, what he undoubtedly must have already suspected: that he was under arrest. The cabby, showing that anarchistic streak for which New York City hacks, licensed or otherwise, are known, started to resist, according to the officer.

The cop eventually managed to open the driver's side door, pull his prisoner out and handcuff him. The perp was charged with resisting arrest. The cop, who cut himself-apparently while trying to open the car door-received medical attention at the scene.

Grand Larceny With a Smile

The average Manhattan sales associate has enough of an attitude, even in this golden age of total customer satisfaction, that when one of them showers you with affection, it has a disorienting effect, as it did on one customer at a Madison Avenue shoe store on June 5.

The shopper told the police that when she went to pay for her purchase, she was treated so nicely by the saleswoman, who even asked her name, that she didn't notice it when the saleswoman kept her credit card-which was apparently the point of all that kindness.

Later that evening, the victim, a 45-year-old East 85th Street resident, received a call from her bank reporting that there had been suspicious activity on her card: $500 had been charged at a local store.

The individual described as wielding the stolen plastic perfectly fit the description-blond-ponytailed, blond-fingernailed, approximately 30 years old-of the saleswoman who had waited on her earlier that afternoon. The complaint is under investigation by the police.