The ordinary mortals’ room at P.J. Clarke’s

Recently P.J. Clarke’s, that very Mad Men-like eatery, shut the doors to its second floor—but just to the common folk. The special people, or rather its loyal customers, received a membership card that grants access to the rarefied sanctum of floor two, known as the Sidecar. The upstairs space is more elegant and thus quiet, so it’s a good nook to impress a date (is the membership card the Upper East Side version of The Standard’s coveted Boom Boom Room card?) or to slip away from the hustle of the always-busy dining rooms downstairs (now unofficially dubbed by us P.J.’s Siberia). P.J. Clarke’s plans to issue 100 more cards, Willy Wonka golden-ticket-style, and will cap membership in New York and D.C. at 1,884, which is kind of a weird number, but whatever. Phil Scotti, the director of member affairs, says it is still looking for lifetime members who will come year after year. Rumor has it that celebrities Brooke Shields, Liza Minnelli, Johnny Depp and Keith Richards are members already. The time is now to eat every lunch and dinner at P.J. Clarke’s for the next month.

P.J. Clarke’s, 915 Third Avenue, (212) 317-1616.

Set your DVR for Nickelodeon at 9:30pm.

After a successful if rather macabre run as the Addam's family matriarch Morticia, Brooke Shields left Broadway with a grand bow and rousing applause in late December. Little did we know she was plotting another Broadway exit: Ms. Shields and husband Chris Henchy have sold their co-op at 458 Broadway, city records show.

Sadly, the actress may not have earned the same accolades for her real estate performance as her stage achievements. While Ms. Shields and Mr. Henchy originally listed their apartment in August for $3.2 million, they ultimately fetched just $2.95 million on the sale.

According to a listing from Stribling brokers Susan Wires and Jane Gardner, the three-bedroom, two-bath apartment in Soho features eleven foot ceilings, ideal for Ms. Shields' amazonian stature (she stands at 6 feet tall). It seems that after a long night on stage Ms. Shields indulged in a well deserved tipple: her home features a 1,500 bottle walk-in wine storage "cellar" adjacent to the living room.

The master bedroom features a walk-in closet (filled with Calvin Klein jeans, no doubt) and a claw-foot tub in the mater bath (no Blue Lagoon here). Two additional bedrooms, one listed as a Bedroom/Library, flank the heavily windowed living room. "Steps from the city's best shopping and restaurants along with being very convenient to transportation," the brokers coo in their listing. "This residence truly distinguishes itself!"

The couple probably won't be missing their old home too terribly much, as they have moved on to bigger and better things. Last summer Ms. Shields and family moved over to a newly-renovated Greek-revival townhouse on West 10th Street.

The Soho home was purchased by Randi and Jeffrey Kapelman, who appears to be CEO of Hildun, a fashion finance firm.

eknutsen@observer.com

Sean Avery

Wednesday, June 22

Foxy Ladies

Opera—it’s not just for opera houses anymore! We had enough to keep up with between the Met and the City Opera (O.K., we mainly kept up with the Met), but more and more, we’re hearing of opera performances put on by orchestras (the skill set’s not too different, one supposes …). The New York Philharmonic today begins its run of The Cunning Little Vixen, an opera by the Czech composer Leoš Janáček about the life of that Playmate who almost married Hugh Hefner last week. Not really—it’s based on an old-timey comic strip and tells the adventures of a lady fox out in the woods. It’s all very children’s TV, between a set strewn with giant sunflowers and the Cats-y costumes. And we’ll take those singing mosquitoes over the stinging kind any day.
Avery Fisher Hall, 10 Lincoln Center Plaza, performances daily through June 25, tonight’s curtain at 7:30 p.m.; visit nyphil.org for tickets and information.

Thursday, June 23

Slow Boat to China

Talk about a cultural revolution—Shen Yun Performing Arts, a troupe devoted to preserving traditional Chinese art forms (tagline: “five thousand years in the making”), is coming to Lincoln Center. Donna Karan’s Urban Zen initiative (om) is presenting a private premiere party inside the Koch Theater with the likes of socialite Anne Bass, Velvet Undergrounder Lou Reed and pajama aficionado Julian Schnabel. Now that Anna Wintour’s been to China—trailing Richard Nixon by just a few decades—we feel suddenly trendy indulging a taste for traditional dance and music, while simultaneously sticking it to the commies. Ni hao!

David H. Koch Theater, 20 Lincoln Center Plaza, performance at 7 p.m., reception at 9 p.m.;  private event.

Friday, June 24

Sorority Girls

College! Who doesn’t miss the days when we could alternate fancy little cotillions and nights in the stickiest-floored fraternity houses without any guilt? (These days, sad to say, it’s all cotillions.) A ball in Brooklyn’s Grand Prospect Hall hosted by Alpha Kappa Alpha, the oldest African American Greek sorority around, invites us to go back to school—without those pesky final exams. The gala benefits the Ivy Rose Foundation, which supports Brooklyn schools. These sorority ladies take themes seriously, too: the “Pink and Green Ball”—so preppy!—encourages its guests to don 1920’s-style garb, and guests will enjoy live music and casino games. Grand

Prospect Hall, 263 Prospect Avenue, 8 p.m.; visit pinkandgreenball.org for tickets and information.

Saturday, June 25

Ball Versus Ball

It’s a battle of the blowouts in the Hamptons, as the 15th annual Heart of the Hamptons Ball faces off against the 16th annual Artists Against Abuse Gala (a year more venerable, but who’s counting?). The Heart of the Hamptons Ball benefits the American Heart Association, while Artists Against Abuse helps fund the Retreat, a domestic violence services group. Worthy causes both! Here’s where they diverge—the Heart of the Hamptons Ball is a generic, if lovely, affair, with cocktails and dancing, at the Hayground School. The Artists Against Abuse Gala is at a school as well, the Ross School—but in a feat of group imagination, and nautical decor, the crowd is asked to pretend they’re on a “luxurious yacht.” That would seem to give the edge to Artists Against Abuse, but the Heart of the Hamptons has a trump card: honoree Star Jones. How ever will we choose?!

Heart of the Hamptons Ball, Hayground School, 151 Mitchells Lane (Bridgehampton), 6 p.m., call (631) 734-2804 for tickets and information; Artists Against Abuse Gala, Ross School Lower Campus Field House, 739 Butter Lane (Bridgehampton), 6 p.m.; call (631) 329-4398 for tickets and information.

Sunday, June 26

Animal Husbandry

Today brings the final performance of the New York Classical Theatre’s production of Molière’s comedy of gender relations School for Husbands in Central Park. This isn’t a Shakespeare in the Park–style seated experience, no sir—attendees have to follow the actors on a ramble through paths and over bridges. And we thought keeping up with Molière’s verse was challenging enough! … Meanwhile, the West Village gastropub the Spotted Pig throws a party for gay pride. We’re trying to fit into our swimsuit, so no pork shoulder for us—but we will indulge in a few drinks. The parade ends in the West Village, so it’s a quick stroll over, a distance of about five leather-clad bikers.

New York Classical Theatre, Central Park at West 103rd Street and Central Park West, performance begins at 7 p.m., free and open to the public, visit newyorkclassical.org for information. The Spotted Pig, 314 West 11th Street; visit thespottedpig.com for information.

Monday, June 27

Smooth Like Putter

For those whose work schedules don’t demand complete adherence to fuddy-duddy, old “five-day weeks”—or those who have forsworn work for leisure altogether!—there’s a golf tournament in the Hamptons today that’s really calling your name. It’s the Hamptons Golf Classic! Beachfront impresario Zev Norotsky founded the tournament, which pairs celebrities with the well-heeled and sends them out to tee off on one another! We’re hoping to get placed in a foursome with New York Ranger Sean Avery—though we’d settle for Landry Fields of the Knicks. Why do athletes want to ruin their Hamptons weekends with sports during the off-season? Never mind—it’s just golf!

Hampton Hills Golf and Country Club, County Road 31 (Westhampton), arrivals at 10 a.m., shotgun start at 11 a.m., cocktails upon conclusion at 4:30pm, call (917) 232-2355 for information.

Tuesday, June 28

Rabbit Season

The Sanctuary Hotel’s in a “soft opening” phase—why does everything have to take so long! But in the meantime, Patrick McMullan is throwing a little shindig there, along with kooky South African graffiti artist David Foox, both of whom are contributing work on the theme "The Year of the Rabbit.” And here we thought it was the year of the dirty dog (yes, Rep. Weiner, we’re still talking about you). … By the way, we’re still so embarrassed for Brooke Shields after she compounded a minute-long line flub at the Tonys with an apology that had to be censored for profanity. (That never happened on Suddenly Susan!) Moving forward! The actress is set to take the lead role from Bebe Neuwirth in The Addams Family, that mysteriously unkillable Broadway show. Now that Spider-Man appears to have become a model of safety, Ms. Shields’s star turn is the riskiest, most daring ticket in town!

The Year of the Rabbit reception, Sanctuary Hotel, 132 West 47th Street, 6 p.m., cocktails and hors d’oeuvres served; private event. The Addams Family, Lunt-Fontanne Theatre, 205 West 46th Street, curtain at 7 p.m.; visit theaddamsfamilymusical.com or the box office for tickets and information.

Wednesday, June 29

Summer Loving

This summer, we’re hoping for a fling—a bit of romance to break up the humid, nasty dog days of summer. The uniquely capitalized gallery fordPROJECT allows us to live vicariously with the exhibit Summer Affair, commencing today. The group show features works by the photographer Manuela Paz and light artist Virginia Overton, among others, but the overarching narrative of the show is more striking (or seasonally appropriate) than any of the art. One is meant to imagine oneself in an apartment shared by two collectors who are carrying on an affair—that the whole thing takes place in an actual West Side penthouse is all the better (though we’re not sure how fordPROJECT can verify its claim that the apartment was once owned by real-life “passionate and tragic lovers”—aren’t they all passionate and tragic in this town?).

fordPROJECT, 57 West 57th Street, floors 19 and 20, opens today, from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m.; visit fordproject.com for information.

Mr. Siriano, 24, is the openly gay winner of Lifetime's Project Runway, season four: famous for wearing his hair in a flat-ironed, bi-level "fashion hawk" and for popularizing the phrase "hot tranny mess." He was discussing fittings for his Fashion Week runway show, which takes place Thursday, Sept. 9, on the stage at Lincoln Center. And although it was days away and he still hadn't toured the space, Mr. Siriano appeared totally calm. "I'm very organized," he explained. "And this season, because it's spring, feels more lighthearted--you don't have to take it so seriously."

Being taken seriously, though, is the biggest obstacle facing Mr. Siriano these days. Yes, hordes of fans clamor to score invites to his shows, and celebs like Rihanna and Lady Gaga get photographed in his dresses. But while he interned for Alexander McQueen and Vivienne Westwood and won raves for his first collection from the famously unforgiving Women's Wear Daily--possibly the first time the trade bible has used the word "fierce"--he is recognized most for his telegenic turn on Runway and, four seasons later, remains the franchise's biggest breakout star (in the past year alone, he's written a book on style and starred in an hour-long Bravo special, Christian Siriano: Having a Moment.)

Apart from show judges Michael Kors and Tim Gunn (who has called Mr. Siriano "this generation's Marc Jacobs"), few industry insiders have gone on record in support of the diminutive designer, so it's hard to tell if Mr. Siriano has been truly embraced by the fashion elite. (When Mad Men's Christina Hendricks, one of the hottest stars of the moment, wore a strapless peach frock to the 2010 Golden Globes, it provoked eye rolls rather than huzzahs. "Not pretty," wrote The Times' Cathy Horyn, suggesting that the over-the-top ruffles, er, expanded Ms. Hendricks' already buxom figure. Ms. Hendricks recently wore another of Mr. Siriano's gowns to the Creative Arts Emmys, which can be seen as either a vote of confidence or a repeat offense.)

Then again, we now live in an age in which Anna Wintour allowed a documentary film crew into the hallowed halls of Vogue; Elle has gone slumming on the CW with 2008's cringe-worthy Stylista; and Kim Kardashian--whose design experience seems limited to finding pants with atypical waist-to-hip ratios--has presented a collection at Fashion Week.

"I absolutely think people take him seriously," stylist Phillip Bloch wrote in an email. "We all know that in this pop media frenzy we live in, it's all about the hype, and Christian has had more than his share of that. He's definitely taking all the right steps to brand himself, and half the battle in retail is creating a consumer awareness. With his high-profile premiere on Project Runway, he's been a reality tv darling, so half the world already knows who he is... and he's quite a quirky and adorable character, which is always appealing."

Indeed, watching Mr. Siriano cast models, it was hard not to root for him: Full of camera-ready bon mots, he's a one-man stitch 'n' bitch.

"Now, she is fabulous," he drawled as his design partner and childhood friend, Sam Bennett, arrived bearing a huge bundle of curly beige crinoline resembling the scalp of Phil Spector.

"It's like you had a wind machine!" he said excitedly to a particularly bouncy-hipped Japanese model. "To make your hair move like that is a talent."

To a full-lipped, androgynous model named Snow, he sighed, "I wish that were my name."

"Ugh, they're all so fucking pretty," he groaned during a lull. "How do people deal? I get catcalls on Eighth Avenue. Guys think I'm an Asian lesbian. How do these girls even walk around?"

Mr. Siriano's spring 2011 collection--his fifth since winning Runway--is somewhat of a departure from the heavy-handed glamour that marked his earlier work. "My first season, I was doing more show pieces," he said (an understatement--the voluminous ruffled and feathered gowns he has sent down runways past make most black-tie fare look like bib overalls). And sure enough, this season's offerings are softer--heavy satins with gravity-defying flourishes have been traded in for flowing chiffon columns, while shiny silk blazers have given way to tailored trench coats. His textiles show more  maturity as well--Mr. Siriano fell in love with a book on China and its Buddhist temples, but, not wanting to appear overly religious, he manipulated a photograph of temple artwork into an abstract print, which pops up in pieces throughout the collection. "I love it," he said, fingering a bright teal jersey dress. "Then again, they may tar and feather me. We'll have to see."

Asked if the Runway crown has been a hindrance, Mr. Siriano diplomatically replied: "The show is great and totally helped me." He cited partnerships with Payless and Victoria's Secret, and pointed out that his fall 2010 collection got play on Style.com, which is more or less an extension of Vogue. Then again, he said, after the show ends, "you find that not everybody supports it. And it's the fashion industry, you know? I have no idea what they really think."

He primped in a full-length mirror and plucked a Flip video camera from his bag. "I'm supposed to be filming myself for New York magazine, but I don't really feel like it," he said. Nevertheless, he turned the camera on himself and put on a grin. "Hi, New York mag! We're at my studio and we're gonna do a little casting." Mr. Siriano then filmed his staff in the office before returning to the casting room, where a blond model from Serbia waited, wearing a wife beater and oversize black-framed glasses. "Ooh, I love them," he cooed. "Are they prescription?"

"No, I just want to look smart," she giggled. As she left, Mr. Siriano made a brief but decisive cutting motion across his throat.

An assistant, the very fashionably-named Micole, rushed in--a front-row attendee on the list for the show had just called asking to bring a guest. "Is she a famous guest or a regular guest?" Mr. Siriano wanted to know.

"It's between Brooke Shields and Hailey Duff," Micole said. Mr. Siriano was disappointed. "Brooke Shields is old," he said. "Hailey Duff is trashy."

"You have a lot of younger fans, and they all look up to the Duffs," Micole offered brightly.

"They do not look up to the Duffs," Mr. Siriano said, laughing.

It may sound cruel, but for Mr. Siriano, insults often double as terms of endearment. "Listen, I love everyone," he said. "I'm a huge fan of the worst, trashiest people. But frankly, I'd rather have buyers from Bergdorf come to my show." He turned to Micole. "Tell him, 'Christian's not sure if the show's right for Hailey.'"

Mr. Siriano does a lot of business with private clients--particularly brides--but as of right now his eponymous label is sold in New York exclusively at Saks Fifth Avenue (after his debut collection in 2008, Bloomingdale's reportedly placed an order that later fell through). "At my very first show, I had everyone," he said. "I had amazing editors, I had Nina Garcia's entire staff at Elle, I had Saks, Neimans, Bergdorf." By comparison, Mr. Siriano's fall 2010 front row included America's Next Top Model winner CariDee English, Mena Suvari and Leigh Lezark.

"Listen, actresses get paid if they're big," he said. "And I am not paying $30K for you to sit for 10 minutes." He paused, reconsidering. "Maybe if Rihanna called me," he said.

His phone vibrated. "No, he is not," he exclaimed before announcing to the room that Kanye West was dating the model Selita Ebanks. Mr. Siriano said he had spent time with Mr. West's former girlfriend, Amber Rose (also a model), who he deemed "ghetto, but the sweetest person."

When the casting call ended and the models had trotted back to Eighth Avenue in their 6-inch heels, Mr. Siriano pinned head shots of his favorites to a wall and stepped back. Remembering his New York assignment, he grabbed his Flip camera. "This is our wall of girls we like and are going to get," he narrated. "Amazing!" He turned off the camera and started to laugh. "They're gonna be like, 'What the fuck is this fag doing?'" he said, imagining editors reviewing the tapes. "'Who is this fairy princess?'"

ulamarche@observer.com

“That’s so sweet,” actor Chace Crawford said to a friend who showed off the freshly etched initials on the back of his phone. “I love to BBM!” Mr. Crawford told the Transom, referring to BlackBerry Messenger, the free service for BlackBerry users. “I can’t do anything else when I’m BBMing. I’ll be doing this”—he looked down and imitated typing with thumbs—“and my friend will be telling a story and I’ll be like, ‘What?’ It doesn’t even process I’m so focused on the BBM,” he said, laughing, before being whisked away. BB-bye!

The Transom turned and bumped into Ms. Shields. “BlackBerry was my welcoming party to the current century,” she siad. “I was a paper person before that! Now I’m addicted!” She paused, adding, “I refuse to have it cut into my family time.” No texting at the dinner table, then? “No, but my kids love to play Brick-breaker. My 6-year-old knows how to work it better than I do. It makes me feel like my father when I went to him with, like, VHS!”

Out on the terrace after the rain stopped, Chloe Sevigny talked to the Transom about her smartphone etiquette: “I like to put mine on quiet because I don’t want to reach for it every time it vibrates. I just check it periodically. It’s a much better way to live your life!” Ms. Sevigny said she doesn’t like to keep her phone out at all times, “Unless, maybe, a boy’s gonna call!” she said. “Or text.”

The Beautiful Life’s Nico Tortorella used his PDA to show off pictures of his new puppy, Mama, and her soon-to-be-adopted housemate, Madonna. “Isn’t she beautiful?” he gushed. If his BlackBerry could have one feature it doesn’t already have? “Make me fly. Or teleport—that would be cool, too. Or stop time, and then keep going faster!” Mr. Tortorella said he uses his phone at all times—including, shame on him, behind the wheel. “I’ve had way too many accidents,” he confessed. “Memorizing lines on my BlackBerry on the way to auditions.” On the way to death, sir ...

“They showed me how to use it,” said 30 Rock’s Judah Friedlander of his maiden BlackBerry. “I didn’t understand one thing. It’s very complicated. I think I’ll have to take some classes. I’m not good at class, so I don’t know if it’s gonna work out.” How did he ever live without one? “Home phone, cell phone, and talking,” he said.

More New York City public-school kids are passing standardized English tests in grades 3 through 8, according to test results released yesterday, and City Schools Chancellor Joel Klein is given a platform on the front of today's News from which to characterize the results as a product of Mayor Michael Bloomberg's assertion of mayoral control of the school system, which has resulted in greater accountability for education workers for test-score performance. It's an important argument for Mr. Klein because the 2002 law abolishing the Board of Education is up for renewal in June by the State Legislature, which is now far less friendly to the former Republican mayor than it was when the law was passed, and whose leaders owe much to the political support of the United Federation of Teachers, which has always opposed mayoral control. It's interesting to see this story on the front of the News, when it's generally been the Post that has been covering the dispute over education policy between the mayor and UFT head Randi Weingarten (with that incredible photo-montage logo of Ms. Weingarten manipulating a Pinocchio marionette over the legend, "PUPPET MASTER"). To flag the story, the News gives the largest type on the page to the words "SCORES SOAR," with the subhead: "Klein: Reading success tied to mayoral control." When you get inside, opponents of mayoral control are given their chance to talk back to Mr. Klein, pointing out that the city was actually only in the middle of the pack among many New York cities that improved their scores and do not have mayoral control (Buffalo!) and pointed to things like "staff development" for the improvements. It's all fair enough.

Kiefer Sutherland, who we read yesterday was going to book himself in with the police for head-butting Proenza Schouler cofounder Jack McCollough at a party Monday night, in fact did do that yesterday. He also ordered in Thai food and seemed to be in a good mood. He had nothing to say. Neither, really, did anyone else. So why is this on Page 1? He's got a court date scheduled for June 22, so let's lay off Kiefer on the cover until the 23rd.

New York Post: The murder of Wesleyan student Johanna Justin-Jinich in a Wesleyan bookstore in broad daylight was pretty shocking. Seven bullets were fired at the young woman at near point-blank range, according to reports; after ditching a wig used as a sort of disguise at the bookstore, the suspect in the case, Stephen Morgan, hung out outside the store among the rubberneckers and even spoke to police, giving them his phone number, before making his getaway. Neither the suspect nor the victim is from New York, but there is a city angle here (besides the fact that anything in Connecticut can arguably be classified a suburb of New York, if you stretch the meaning far enough): They met at a summer class at New York University, and it was here that Mr. Morgan developed what looks, from diaries collected from his abandoned car by police, like an obsession with the victim. "His deadly obsession," reads the headline, which sounds a little bit like the title of an awful erotic thriller. Then: "Chilling e-mails in co-ed slay."

A short digression: When will the term "co-ed," which is only used in true-crime contexts, finally go away? Surely it's pretty unremarkable that girls are allowed to go to college with boys at this point. One reason, which really only explains its use in print (it's used all the time in television true-crime programming, too), might be that it says so much in so little space: It tells you that the victim was a college student, usually at a residential college, so it creates the entire background setting. "Chilling e-mails in slaying of Wesleyan undergrad" is not as economical. Still, we think the word is almost getting a campy taint, and in a story that really has to be serious, even reverential, it sticks out as weird.

The Post is not the winner on this story on the merits. They publish more interviews than the News today, but most of it amplifies the basic story available everywhere. And as usual, the News is better on the police-procedural side of the story. It's purely a different measure of the story's interest level that puts it on the front page of the Post today, and not the News. And there is plenty here. The victim is a beauty; the suspect looks deranged. The journals recovered in the suspect's car are full of the kind of insane and outrageous scrawling that raises the body temperature of a certain kind of sensationalist consumer. And to top it all off, both victim and suspect appear to be from "good" families, which allows readers to indulge in a little bit of armchair criminology. It's like an episode of Law & Order, and in fact, you can expect to see this story play out at "Hudson University" before the next season is over, we'll wager.

Back to Manny: The Post, if its front-page treatment of the steroid-scandal story is any indication, has no qualms about presenting the straight news to readers even if it's old news to them. Why not? Because if their take is funny enough on the cover, people will still want to read everything they've got on it. "GIRLIE MANNY" is not one of the paper's best, but it's pretty aggressive! "Drug cheat Ramirez took female hormone." There's a little teaser, too, which leads: "Now this is female trouble." So the Post decided to ride the fact that the drug Mr. Ramirez is accused of taking is a women's fertility drug very hard. Never mind the fact that use of this drug is fairly common among people who abuse steroids to improve performance; aside from the fact that that information is widely available, why would it have been put on the "banned" list by major-league baseball if it weren't? We do wonder if a less eccentric player—one with, for instance, short hair—caught out using this stuff would be treated quite the same way. It's a bit as if he innocently had asked for a Barbie doll for his third birthday. Of course it's all coy. But it proves something: A funny angle, even if it's not important or even counterfactual, can be enough to make print coverage relevant even when its limitations put it behind the 24-hour news cycle.

General observations: We started today's Wood War asking about how the speed of the news cycle affects how newspapers sell stories you've already heard about to morning readers, and today provides a perfect example of the two New York tabloids' approaches to the problem. The News, acknowledging the fact that it is not actually giving you news you haven't already heard (after all, if you didn't know, you wouldn't really be able to make sense of their Ramirez display), sacrifices all its urgency and gives us limp analysis. The Post, stoutly refusing to give up its perch as the purveyor of new information even in the face of the facts, puts a camp spin on the story and sells it as a Day 1 story. What does this tell us? Probably not much, except it suggests that maybe the tabloids need to work on entertaining audiences by talking about the news. If the treatment entertains, there might actually be a lower bar for new information. Analysis is not, usually, very entertaining. (Ha! Hoist on our own petard!)

Let's just get this out of the way: Kiefer Sutherland on the front page of the News was wasted space. But we're not inclined to hold that against the News; the two papers seem to be taking turns mishandling this thing on their covers. So let's just forget about Kiefer and hope the tabloids do, too. That leaves us to match up the Post's selling of the Wesleyan murder story against the News' test-score story. It's probably the case that each paper did the right thing here for its own purposes. The News, in its relentless localness, would have to privilege a story about public schools over one about a murder at Wesleyan. And aside from the fact that this is an extraordinary crime story, remember that the Post usually likes its crimes to be "shocking," from an elitist point of view. The News can't treat Wesleyan University any differently from Queens College; this is the paper that doesn't "see" those kinds of class differences. Whereas the Post likely felt compelled to give this the front page precisely because the victim was a student at an elite Eastern university. The Post can also be fairly confident that one day of putting Joel Klein on the front page of the News is not going to steal its thunder on the schools issue, on which the Post has lately been killing the competition. I'm calling these two stories a draw, because neither could have done what the other did and had as good a front page. So it's down to the Manny Ramirez story.

Winner: New York Post.

There was one other item on the front page of the News this morning! A thin red box at the bottom refers to the Sports section in general. "JOHAN STYMIES PHILS, YANKS FALL TO RAYS."

New York Post: A day late and a dollar short, the Post mysteriously decides to put the story it already ran yesterday on Page Six on the cover. Not just put it on the cover, but take up the whole front page with it. "JACK IN THE BOX" reads the headline, with a picture of Kiefer Sutherland as Jack Bauer from television's 24, blood running down his cheek from his temple. You may remember from everybody in the universe reporting it yesterday that Mr. Sutherland is accused of head-butting fashion designer Jack McCollough, a co-founder of Proenza Schouler, at a Met Costume Institute ball after-party at Submercer late Monday night. That makes the story a Tuesday story for the blogs (it was!) and a Wednesday story for the papers (it was!) What makes it a story on Thursday at all? Much less a cover story? Daily News readers who saw the piece on their newspaper's cover yesterday will feel vindicated for their loyalty today when they see the Post on the newsstand. There are, of course, some developments, none of them exclusive to the Post, all of them stale to anyone who doesn't live under a rock. Mr. Sutherland plans to turn himself in today. Brooke Shields, whose personal space Mr. Sutherland apparently believed himself to be defending when he head-butted the designer, will also talk to police today—taking sides against Mr. Sutherland. We don't do a point system in Wood War, but if we did we would subtract points from the Post for its rotten insinuations that Mr. McCollough is gay and that Mr. Sutherland is an alcoholic, neither observation earned by reporting that the reader has access to, and both, by virtue of their coy presentation, coming off as juvenile. If the Post wants to characterize this as a drunken gay-bashing, they should have the guts to come out and say it.

General Observations: We don't have much sympathy for either paper this morning, both of which are embarrassing stinkers. At least the News offered a story that is technically defensible in journalistic terms. The Post compounds its embarrassing choice by giving it the whole page, being late on the story, offering nothing new and trading in cheap insinuations. This despite the fact that at least two stories for today offered tremendous front-page potential for either paper: Victoria Beckham's unveiling of a revealing 20-foot-long poster advertising her Armani skivvies; and the revelation that relatives of Bernie Madoff used corporate credit cards to live the high life in Manhattan on their benefactor's clients' stolen money. Especially great is the revelation that his son tipped 60 dollars on a check at wildly expensive Manhattan restaurant Per Se that totaled more than a thousand dollars. The weather's rotten, guys, but you have the best jobs in the world. Please enjoy it a little more.

Winner: Daily News

Yesterday, we appreciated the News' decision to commit space on the wood to the ongoing travails of the M.T.A., but counseled them to offer readers results right on the front page. We even suggested that the headline ought to read "$2.25," the price it looked like negotiations would establish as the base fare in the New York City Transit system. Well, maybe the Post was reading! Because, after the fare became official in Albany talks that completed on deadline last night, that's what the newspaper chose for it's biggest-type headline at the bottom of the page. The subhead: "Official: Your new subway fare." There! Couldn't have been simpler.

And, now, for the City's Shame: For the fifth time in a row, the Yankees have lost to the Boston devil. The Post gives us a nice little refer of Joba Chamberlain, who seems to be just completing a telling temple-massage of despair.

New York Daily News: Let's begin at the end: the News puts Joba and the Yankees story in exactly the same place as the Post, on the lower-left in a small box. That seems about right! And their headline is better. The Post had "Yanks fall again to Sox," while the News went with "Yanks drop 5th in row to Sox."

Everybody had this Kiefer Sutherland story late yesterday. Here's the rundown: At a late-night party after the Costume Institute ball at the Met Monday night, Kiefer Sutherland headbutted Proenza Schouler cofounder Jack McCollough after the two had an altercation at downtown celebrity moth-flame Submercer. The story also appears in Page Six this morning, but the News went frontal on it; there are six reporting and writing credits attached to the story inside. It paid off: Among the details delivered in the News story were that the altercation began after Mr. McCollough bumped into Brooke Shields; that the two argued for a while; carries quotes from Mr. McCollough's interview with police in the misdemeanor assault case; blind quotes from Mr. Sutherland's friends; and the news, from Ms. Shields' representatives, that far from appreciating television's Jack Bauers bid for gallantry, she may be speaking to police today to support Mr. McCollough's version of the events. The News decided to pursue this as a celebrity and crime story, broke it out of the gossip columns and gave it some space. The problem is the sale of the story on the wood: "Kiefer head-butts designer." If you don't already know something about the story, it sounds like it might be some kind of metaphor; the smiling picture of Mr. Sutherland confuses things further. This story needed more display to be sold, but there wasn't room for it on the front this morning. Why? Because of this headline: "FINALLY! FARE DEAL DONE: Albany pact derails MTA doomsday hikes, but riders will still pay more." There is a picture of a train, the same picture of a train that everybody has been attaching to these faceless M.T.A. stories for months now. It's a pretty big picture! And once again, the News opts for a processy headline about Albany instead of a consumery, news-you-can-use angle aimed at riders.

General observations: Let's do the small thing first: We've talked before about the differential treatment of bad news about the Yankees on the front pages of the News and the Post; here it's like the Post resisted driving in a final nail, and the Post suffers for it. We're getting a little tired of these giant plays of secondhand news from Vanity Fair on the front page of the Post, too, but that is probably too much a media-insider complaint: The piece will play well, and feels gossipy and relatable. The better story is the Kiefer Sutherland story, for roughly the same market; why didn't the Post hustle on that? Not clear; maybe the story couldn't be broken out of Page Six and therefore had to comply with the strict word-count limits and constricting design of that format. Either way, the story inside the Post didn't belong on the cover. It should have belonged there! And if it had, the Post would likely have done a lot better than the News selling the thing. In fact, with the much better, more compact headline about the M.T.A., the Post gets as much bang out of the news—probably more—than the News did just by devoting acres to it so that it could type out a long headline that missed the point of contact with its readers.

Winner: New York Post.

So it's a little more lowbrow than we usually recommend, but we're feeling like watching Confessions of a Teen Idol might actually count as charity work. The eight-episode reality series focuses on a handful of 80s was-beens-including Christopher Atkins (remember The Blue Lagoon?), Jamie Walters (90210 crooner turned fireman), and Eric Nies (he of the original Real World and The Grind)-as they deal publicly with their status as ex-heartthrobs and even possibly attempt comebacks. Scott Baio, whose own Vh1 shows about fatherhood were surprisingly felt and charming, produces.  [Vh1,  6:30 p.m.]

Tuesday: The Biggest Loser

We suspect that this weight loss competition has more female followers than male, but shouldn't weeping and weighing in be for everyone? While we  can't recommend watching The Biggest Loser over dinner (unless you plan on chowing down on steamed chicken and broccoli, which are approved healthy foods) it's our DVR guilty pleasure.

Monday: Confessions of a Teen Idol

So it's a little more lowbrow than we usually recommend, but we're feeling like watching Confessions of a Teen Idol might actually count as charity work. The eight-episode reality series focuses on a handful of 80s was-beens-including Christopher Atkins (remember The Blue Lagoon?), Jamie Walters (90210 crooner turned fireman), and Eric Nies (he of the original Real World and The Grind)-as they deal publicly with their status as ex-heartthrobs and even possibly attempt comebacks. Scott Baio, whose own Vh1 shows about fatherhood were surprisingly felt and charming, produces.  [Vh1,  6:30 p.m.]

Tuesday: The Biggest Loser

We suspect that this weight loss competition has more female followers than male, but shouldn't weeping and weighing in be for everyone? While we  can't recommend watching The Biggest Loser over dinner (unless you plan on chowing down on steamed chicken and broccoli, which are approved healthy foods) it's our DVR guilty pleasure. You'll laugh, you'll cry, and you may even be inspired to go for a walk. Seriously. [NBC, 8 p.m.]

Wednesday: The Real World, Brooklyn

Apologies for all of the reality TV recommendations, but haven't you been waiting for this one? MTV's ever-increasingly disgusting and absurd franchise (now in its twentieth season!) stuck a bunch of idiots in a loft in Red Hook and filmed them ruining a bunch of things that we love about our borough (ie, our favorite Williamsburg bar). Count on feeling morally superior, at least for an hour. [MTV, 10 p.m.]

Thursday:The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford

Brad Pitt's got Oscar buzz this year for his turn as Benjamin Button, but last year he quietly turned in a top notch performance as Jesse James in Andrew Dominik's film about the killing of the outlaw by his friend and admirer. Casey Affleck acts his pants off as Robert Ford, and supporting turns from Paul Schneider and Sam Rockwell as part time robbers and doofuses round out a terrific cast. If you're looking for an Oscar-caliber film but don't feel like trekking to the theater, this is your movie. [HBO2, 3 p.m.]

Friday: Lipstick Jungle

This show is still on death's door and it doesn't deserve to be. Lipstick Jungle gets knocked around for its chickness and fabulosity and focus on shopping, but that's all undeserved. This is a feminist show people! Three powerful, working women. Two single. One (Kim Raver) freezing her eggs, contemplating having a baby on her own; the other  (Lindsay Price) just proposed to her boyfriend. Brooke Shields, the married mama, is running her own film production company. Sure, there's a focus on fashion....but someone also seems to have made a conscious decision to have these women eating on camera all the time, sandwiches not salads. And if that's not a positive message, we don't know what is. [NBC, 10 p.m.]