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!

Gloria Vanderbilt and Anderson Cooper at 1stDibs gallery. (Patrick McMullan)

While Fashion Week was winding down at Lincoln Center Wednesday night, Diane von Furstenberg was sequestered on the 10th floor of a nondescript Lexington Avenue building. Across the giant storeroom of the mostly digital antique dealer 1stDibs, Patrick McMullan was snapping Bill Cunningham as he took a picture of a small watercolor on the wall. Nearby, Anderson Cooper hovered around his mother, who, in a stunning red kimono, greeted guests to her first solo art show since 2001.

While most people might associate Gloria Vanderbilt with her fashion prowess--her jeans commercials in the ’80s helped define a culture of denim, after all--she demurred at any questions about the fashion world that was teeming nearby. "My work involves all my time," she told The Observer, referring to her current exhibition, "The World of Gloria Vanderbilt: Collages, Dream Boxes, and Recent Paintings." With images that included a doll on a crucifix alongside bright, whimsical portraits of Angelina Jolie and Joyce Carol Oates, "The World" is open to the public starting today, and will be going till mid-October. Proceeds from donations will be going to the Huntsville Museum in Huntsville, Ala., where New York Magazine’s Wendy Goodman (also in attendance that evening) held a party for the release of her biography, The World of Gloria Vanderbilt.

"We wanted to do something nice for the Huntsville Museum in return for their warm hospitality," she said. "And what better way than suggesting the opening of my show be a benefit for the museum?" She also praised 1stDibs founder and president Michael Bruno for his attention to detail while organizing the event.

Mr. Bruno was equally deferential. "Gloria has always been very forward-thinking," he said of the 88-year-old heiress. "Ever since I went to her studios to see her paintings, I've been obsessed."

And he had put his money where his mouth was, purchasing one of Ms. Vanderbilt's paintings himself: a large, brightly colored piece called Tenacity that hung near the center of the room.

On the way out, The Observer ran into Joyce Carol Oates by the elevators. We inquired if the author had seen Ms. Vanderbilt's painting of her.

She shot back, "You mean there's only one?"

Platonically adored by the city’s leading ladies for decades, the flash of Mr. Cunningham’s camera is worth more than any cocktail hour compliment, a thousand-fold. While women have tripped over their trains, desperate to impress him for decades, Mr. Cunningham has remained unaffected, the dogged archivist of New York city’s ceaseless uptown carnival.

Yesterday evening, Mr. Cunningham’s frequent subjects congregated at the Waldorf-Astoria for a night in honor of their beloved photographer, who was receiving the Carnegie Hall Medal of Excellence.

Perched alone at a table, a black fur cape draped over his formidable knee, André Leon Talley arched his neck and surveyed the growing crowd of society peacocks. He was eager to speak about Mr. Cunningham. “He is what I call, the best of the old school world class personalities. He is more than just a photographer. He is a great gentlemen. He represents the best of what Americans can be,” Mr. Leon Talley said, with his lofty, precisely articulated intonation. “It’s not about the moment of bloggers or blogettes or fifteen minutes of fame,” he said, distain audibly dripping through his enunciation of the digi-sphere. “He has always been and will always be the person you see… He’s the same in Paris as he is in New York, and he is the same in New York as he would be in Paris.”

We wondered if one could describe Mr. Cunningham’s contribution to American fashion. Mr. Leon Talley thought for a moment before, with particular gusto, pronouncing the following: “One of the great chroniclers, as well as an oracle. A visual oracle, word oracle, word chronicler; master. American master.” He smiled, pleased with his poetical report.

We noticed Anna Wintour enter the room, swathed in a white fur wrap. We asked if she wouldn’t mind sharing a few thoughts on Mr. Cunningham. She sized us up. “Yes, in a minute,” she said, disappearing into the dense taiga of couture gowns as quickly as she had appeared.

The foyer was filling fast, and, between the ball gowns, flying bisoux and circulating crab cakes, there was little room for movement. Guests shuffled, as best they could, toward the bars with an unabating harmony of “pardon me, excuse me please, and so sorry could I scoot by.”

The guest of honor was barely visible in the crowd, an unceasing receiving line surrounding him and heaping praise upon him. In typical fashion, Mr. Cunningham did his best to recoil from the attention as politely as possible.

Chatting with friends at the bar, Mercedes Bass appeared particularly resplendent, in a full length feathered gown, a self-conscious swan queen. “Only for Bill. I never speak to the press,” Ms. Bass replied when we asked for a moment, bristling slightly.

She described her first impression of Bill Cunningham, some forty years ago. “I thought he was adorable and weird looking and I thought ‘Why is he doing this?’ and when he talked I thought he should be a professor. He has a wonderful command of the English language,” she remarked.

Others, however, could not quite recall when they first met the lensman. “It was many, many moons ago,” Sarah Jessica Parker professed, appearing in a blue Oscar de la Renta dress, a nod to Mr. Cunningham’s ubiquitous blue jacket. “But I knew who he was. I’ve always known who he was,” she said. Ms. Parker was glad Mr. Cunningham is finally being recognized for his decades of singular effort. “His work is deserving. Every now and then a deserving person is recognized,” she suggested, “and it’s such an enormous body of work! That’s what’s also so special, is that he doesn’t seem interested in stopping,” she said.

Mr. Cunningham had left his place in the eye of the storm and had, much to the delight of the guests, reprised his preferred position: behind the camera. As guests began to head into dinner, he snapped pictures of the meritorious few whose habits met his standards.

Inside, we spotted Ms. Wintour once again and re-approached. “Oh,” she said thinly. “You’re back.” She did, however, share her thoughts on Mr. Cunningham. “It seems he was practically the first person I met when I moved to New York,” she said, waxing nostalgic. “He’s so unbelievably authentic. If he doesn’t like something, he’ll tell you. And if he does like something he’ll tell you. His eye is extraordinary,” she said.

Feeling bold, we asked if Mr. Cunningham had ever objected to one of her ensembles. While she did not sigh or murmur “Oh my dear child,” both were implied in her response. “You know he doesn’t like it because he just won’t take your picture,” she said, an imperious smile on her lips as she walked away.

Nearly everyone in the room had seen Bill Cunningham New York, Richard Press’s recent documentary, which paints an intimate portrait of the photographer’s life. We asked Lauren Santo Domingo if she felt uncomfortable peering into the life of such a discreet man. “Maybe for someone whose so private, but you know he captures so many people in private moments, that maybe it’s a fair trade off,” she offered.

His contribution to the world of fashion, Ms. Santo Domingo said, cannot be underestimated. “You know, I think at one point fashion could have been considered trivial, but now it really defines it defines our entire generation. So, the art that he’s been practicing has historical significance,” she explained. “He almost records it almost from an anthropological, sociological perspective.”

After baby spring lamb chops were served, Mr. Cunningham took the stage to accept his medal.
“Everyone in this room, that’s why I’m here! It’s because of you, not me!” he began, pointing out the until-then unspoken irony of the evening: the society photographer, being honored by society.  “Do you realize what you mean to me?” he asked the crowd, his life’s work.

After dinner, we asked Sandy Weill why he thought Mr. Cunningham had been selected for the award. “I love him,” Mr. Weill responded. “We all should love him.”
editorial@observer.com

Scott Schuman, The Sartorialist

Fashion Week! It's here, so time to get rid of your summertime clothes and put together something more presentable. You could get your picture taken at any time. It's true! If you're on the street, you're fair game for the cameras.

Or as Anna Wintour put it in Bill Cunningham New York, "We all get dressed for Bill."

But the iconic Times shutterbug is far from the only cameraman with influence lurking around Lincoln Center. Our friends at The Cut have put together a lovely slideshow in which street-style mavens share their secrets and reveal what they look for in a picture. Want to catch a tastemaker's eye in the time it takes to cross the street? Pay attention, kids!

Scott Schuman, (The Sartorialist)

The people who want to play the game dress with more care, and the people who don’t – either because they don’t like the spotlight or just because they feel like it’s not their game to play – maybe tend to lay a little lower than they might usually.

Jason Jean (Citizen Couture)

There’s a list of editors/stylists/models that I look for, but to name a few: Kate Lanphear, Taylor Tomasi Hill, Joanna Hillman, Shala Monroque, and Frida Gustavsson.

Not them? Out of luck!

Garance Doré (French street-style blogger/photographer)

Attitude and personality. And I love a good hat.

And Phil Oh, of Streetpeeper, who do you want to shoot?

The new batch of young editors, stylists, and bloggers who show up for their first fashion weeks.

Well, we know some new and not-so-new "bloggers" who might interest you as they trot past the Lincoln Center fountain, Phil. What? Oh, no, we're not talking about ourselves. We're holding out for Bill.

That access distinguishes Bill Cunningham New York, which shifts gradually from a professional appreciation of Mr. Cunningham's work to a very personal account of a solitary, constantly-working man. About the film's climactic revelations about Mr. Cunningham's romantic past and his religion, which reduce the photographer to tears, Mr. Press said, "I think those two questions--you would ask anybody if you were interviewing them... That was the last interview we did, and it was at the tail end of a long interview."

 Mr. Cunningham had, in the first year of filming, been more resistant to the filmmakers' efforts-he instructs them, at the film's midpoint, that they are not to follow him to Paris, though they do. By filming's end, he is startlingly honest, particularly given that he has never thus far made himself the story in his work. Mr. Press said of Mr. Cunningham's emotional moment: "We had no idea it would be such a powerful moment. That wasn't the end of the interview; it was just not a problem. That's the thing about Bill--he's very honest."

Mr. Cunningham has been honest, too, about his lack of desire to see the film-no Anna Wintour-at-September Issue screenings moments for him. "He's never seen the film. He knows what's in it. He just wasn't interested. He's given us his blessing--he's very happy, like, Oh, you kids made a movie!" said Mr. Press. It may have been easy to forget he was being filmed--Mr. Press indicated he worked without a large documentary crew, not even a sound person or boom mic operator. "I really tried to shoot the movie in the way he shoots his subjects. He tries to be invisible and I wanted to be invisible as well. He stands on the street for hours waiting for the right person, for his subject, trying to get a great shot, and I think he realized we were doing the same thing."

ddaddario@observer.com :: @DPD_

That's why we're very excited for Bill Cunningham New York, what appears to be an exquisitely done documentary on his life and work. It opens at Film Forum on March 16. Be there

Here's the trailer, which opens with Anna Wintour. "I've said many times that we all get dressed for Bill," she says. The whole thing is just the classiest.

Watch it here.

We did, however, catch at least one young woman trying to turn Big Bambú into an interactive work: she swung her body around one of the larger pieces of bamboo in an improvised pole dance for the benefit of an amused friend and then accidentally dislodged it. Both scurried off looking faintly guilty.

Downstairs, American Woman was almost empty save for a few wandering fashionistas. As we crossed together into the "Bohemians" room, one of them commented, "This is, like, my favorite. I would, like, wear all of this now." In the "Flappers" room, identical blondes in identical minidresses took pictures of each another in front of the mannequins. 

We also spotted tireless Times photographer Bill Cunningham, snapping a photo of a young woman in a bubblegum-pink frock and a matching huge feathered headpiece. (Her date, in a mint-green bow tie, paisley jacket and turtle-print pants, may have been trying a mite too hard.) Mr. Cunningham wore his trademark blue jacket and carried an OfficeMax notebook. Despite being more than twice the age limit for Young Members, he somehow fit right in.

"I think anybody in the Moynihan world who knows Dan and worked with Dan would rally around him. It's like an alumni association," said Bill Cunningham, a former aide to Michael Bloomberg and now a partner at Dan Klores Communications. "He's a quality guy, he's a smart guy, and the fact that he came to Washington and was working on the finance staff for Pat Moynihan should say something."

French started working for Moynihan's office in 1987 as a personal staffer, them moved to several committee staffs at the senator's behest both before and after he attended law school in Syracuse. All told, he worked on the Hill until the mid-1990s, interacting with a broad swath of now-dispersed politicos. Afterward, French served as a U.S. Attorney and then started a law firm.

Cunningham told me he met French while Cunningham was serving as Moynihan's chief-of-staff in 1995. Other alums include Kevin Sheekey, Bloomberg's deputy mayor for government affairs; West Wing producer Lawrence O'Donnell; fund-raiser Cindy Darrison; and Kyle Kotary, an Albany-based political consultant.

"I think it'd be interesting, if he runs, to see who gets involved," Kotary told me.

Does this mean we could see Sheekey running a war room in Watertown?

"At the very least, I think, Kevin is involved in Dan's kitchen cabinet," Kotary replied.

(Sheekey did not return an email.)

Democrats have not yet picked a candidate for the race (the seat is not vacant, either), and a process is expected to be firmed up after a conference call tomorrow. Some national party leaders are grumbling that State Senator Darrel Aubertine was pressured by state officials to drop out of the race, leaving them without their strongest candidate. The Republican candidate is Assemblywoman Dede Scozzafava.

French has said that he is still weighing whether to run.