“I’m wearing Lanvin,” she said in an exaggerated French accent, perhaps a remnant of Fashion Week reverie. Indeed, Ms. Weaver was one of many gowned sophistiquées packed into the main atrium of the Public Library appraising a mannequin clad in traditional Kazakh bridal wear. Despite their dapper bow ties and rarefied dresses, none of the evening’s patrons or patronesses—Jonathan and Somers Farkas, Aselle Tasmagambetova, Domenico Vacca and Eva Lorenzotti among them—could rival the richly embossed, regal red jacket or the towering silver diadem sitting atop the faux bride’s faux cranium. We had never seen anything like it, we realized.

By birthright, we have long since focused our global gaze on the lands of our Western European kin. While we can recite the name of every English monarch onward from Edward the Confessor and have traced the lineage of French aristocrats in the Sorbonne’s hallowed halls, we are sometimes startled by the sheer vastness of the world outside our forebearers’ ambit. The smattering of post-Soviet states in Central Asia is, to be sure, a part of the world as foreign as the moon to the chaste European ego, and until very recently we counted ourselves among the unenlightened majority who confused Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and Kazakhstan. Since the “Discover Kazakhstan” gala last week, however, at least one country in the region has been illuminated, no longer a dark spot on our mental map, which has always counted the Greenwich Meridian as its primary point of reference. We were pleasantly surprised. As were others.

“I was just so impressed by how cultivated the people were, how elegant, how much they loved the arts, and frankly how little Americans knew about them,” Ms. Weaver confessed. We admitted we were one such American. “It’s a horse culture because it’s a nomadic culture. They are so strong and tall and elegant and beautiful,” she said, listing her strongest impressions from a recent trip to the country. “Tonight, people are going to get a taste of Kazakhstan.”

And taste we did, a lamb dumpling and a grilled shrimp steeped in some unfamiliar herbal marinade. Drinks in hand, guests and deferential waiters wended among the glass cases showcasing the evening’s main attraction: brilliant Kazakh jewelry. In conjunction with Christie’s and the Nomad’s Way Project, a charitable endeavor of the Saby Foundation, several top jewelers had crafted sumptuous cameos inspired by historical Kazakh designs. Interspersed among the contemporary creations were indigenous pieces dating back hundreds of years.

Like most of the evening, we found the designs beautifully foreign. The silver-heavy pieces tended to have horizontal inclinations, not vertical ones like the familiar pendants of European provenance. One robust item particularly caught our eye: an antique chandeliered necklace, composed of massive silver plates that could have been worn only by a noble neck with muscles specially trained to manage such imperial hardware. Cultural vocabulary translated directly to the realm of jewelry.

After a wave of guests sashayed briskly in our direction, speaking languages we wish we understood, we realized we were standing next to Jacob Arabo, better known by his professional handle, Jacob the Jeweler. “I am Uzbek. I was born and raised right next door,” he said, offering a welcome geography lesson. “Basically for me, this is like my home, this is my family and this is my people,” he said, surrounded by a throng of satisfied customers and companions.

A gong’s brassy ring sent guests downstairs to the Celeste Bartos forum, where an elegant scene was arranged. “If I folded one of the tablecloths up and put it in my purse, do you think anyone would notice?” Jamee Gregory gabbed gleefully. We didn’t know the answer, but it was apparent that the blue and white décor, from the tablecloths to the chair covers, was perfectly suited to the occasion. Evoking a sort of Venetian glow, the byzantine designs captured the interface of East and West.

We spotted Caroline Kennedy, wearing a jacquard jacket with a vaguely festive geometric embroidery, who admitted she had never been to Kazakhstan. The region, however, fascinates her. “I went to Central Asia for my anniversary last summer. We went to Uzbekistan, but I want to go back now to Kazakhstan,” she said. We wondered why so few Americans seem to know about a country with so rich a history. “There’s a lot of things we don’t know about that we should, and this is one of them,” she said, evoking her late father’s ardent internationalism.

Sitting down at our table, we found our tablemate greatly impressed by the spread. “This is really a throwback,” she drawled. “They don’t throw parties like this anymore.” Indeed after several lively conversations (not to mention a duck confit lentil soup and an herb-crusted rack of lamb), we were feeling a variety of satiation not generally experienced at benefit dinners. Guests circulated the room between courses, finally settling back into their seats for the auction.

Guests were generous, very generous, to Kazakhstan. One particularly ornate diamond necklace was sold for $250,000. By the end of the evening, more than $1 million had been raised to support arts education in the nascent country. The crowd was jubilant, ebullient and tipsy from wine and Kazakh vodka.

After a performance by R&B popper Robin Thicke (who, in an homage to Fashion Week, kept his sunglasses on throughout the set), guests said cheery goodbyes and collected their coats.

On the way out, we managed to speak to Kazakhstan’s ambassador to the United Nations, Byrganym Aitimova, who suggested that her country may not be so very different from America after all. In both places, she posited, hospitable people abound, and a fierce sense of proud independence pervades the culture, adding, “I would like to express my observance here in New York that the similarities are much more than the differences.”

eknutsen@observer.com

On a recent Thursday morning, Internal Revenue Service agents walked up to a shiny new building on East 74th Street. Bernie Madoff's younger son has a $4.4 million condo on the fifth floor, but they were looking for his neighbor. "Tell them I'm not here," the money manager Kenneth I. Starr said to the doorman from the $7.6 million apartment he bought a month and a half ago. "Only my wife is here."

An hour later, the agents were about to use a master key when Ms. Starr, a former erotic dancer, opened the door: "He's," she whispered, "upstairs." The 66-year-old financial adviser, whose clients have included Henry Kissinger, Caroline Kennedy, Bunny Mellon and Martin Scorsese, was found hiding in a closet, his shoes sticking out.

Eight days later, Carly Simon was lying in bed in Martha's Vineyard. Wearing a white nightgown, a kind of Victorian-style shift, she answered the phone. "I'm fine," she said. "I'm not fine, what am I saying?" For one thing, she's been ill: She thinks she was bitten by a tick when her horse was put down. For another, the singer says she has lost upward of $15 million to Mr. Starr, who is being held without bail on charges that he was running a Ponzi-like scheme.

In a complaint that accuses him of fraud and money laundering, prosecutors say Mr. Starr (no relation to the Clinton foe) bought his new apartment with $5.75 million taken from Ms. Mellon, a 99-year-old widow, and $1 million from Uma Thurman. He repaid the actress when she went up to his office to confront him two weeks later, using money taken from his client Jim Wiatt, the former William Morris chairman.

Ms. Simon, whose father co-founded Simon & Schuster, thinks her own money is gone because of Mr. Starr's negligence and fraud, which she wasn't sharp enough to catch in time. "You're talking to somebody I'd rather not be," she said. "I don't like to admit how little I knew about anything financial."

READ MORE FROM THE CARLY SIMON INTERVIEWS>

"She leaves it to people that she trusts," said her sister, Joanna, a Manhattan real estate broker, and the late Walter Cronkite's companion. "And it turns out a lot of those people were untrustworthy. She's a real artist, and she needs people to look after her." Cronkite, too, she said, was a client of Mr. Starr's, though he got out early.

If an enormous lesson of the financial crisis was that most of Manhattan was cheating, one moral to the story of the sprawling Madoff disaster and now the cinematic Starr charges is that most everybody is being cheated, even the artistes and statesmen and dazzlingly aristocratic widows.

IN THE MID-'90s, the singer and her ex-husband, James Taylor, happened to be using the same money manager. "I felt that I was second best, and I wasn't getting the kind of attention that a pasha like myself would want," she said. "James just always was much more of a worker bee than I, and therefore it reflected in the kind of attention from a business manager that one would expect." 

She heard about Ken Starr from three different people at once. "All very successful and moneyed," she said. "They were all very importantly involved with the theater and television."

Still, when she went to meet the adviser, she brought along a friend, Dirk Ziff. Mr. Ziff, a billionaire, didn't raise any red flags, though nor did he want to use Mr. Starr himself. (As it happens, his brother Robert has been named as a client, although a spokesperson told The Observer that he denies knowing the adviser, let alone having invested with him.)

As Ms. Simon remembers it, Mr. Starr told the singer he knew her work-her songs include "You're So Vain," "Nobody Does It Better" and "That's the Way I've Always Heard It Should Be." Mr. Starr said that even though her wealth fell below his threshold, he'd take her on as a client and piggyback her account onto Blackstone private-equity deity Pete Peterson's. She didn't understand how that would work, but she liked the sound of it. "I thought, 'Wow. I struck gold.'" He guaranteed a return of 28 percent. "Of course, in retrospect, one sees extremely differently, but I thought he was the type of power that I hadn't come across."

Up until recently, Mr. Starr had rarely been photographed without a charming and important person by his side. Around town, he could be seen sipping Diet Coke at the Four Seasons at lunch; or maybe chatting to other guests at Bank of America's ritzy private client event about his time at the glorious Allen & Co. retreat; or at a charity ball with his nice wide grin, a tie over his modest paunch, his bald head shining in the light and an arm around a good New Yorker like Jimmy Nederlander.

Then there are odder images, like the shots of him with his tattooed and buxom wife, his third, next to bodybuilders at their American Gladiator-themed private cocktail party. But even at the pole-dancing parties she threw, there are happy snapshots of Mr. Starr with David Blaine or Scarface producer Marty Bregman. Al Pacino was a client, too.

So were Mike Nichols, Annie Leibovitz, Neil Simon and Barbara Walters. And during a recording of a conversation with the Los Angeles private investigator Anthony Pellicano that was leaked during his trial, Mr. Starr said the billionaire Mort Zuckerman had been a client and friend, too. "That's not my recollection," Mr. Zuckerman, also a Madoff victim, said this week. "I'm going to tell you something: For years I have been asked by various friends in the entertainment world, and I have advised them all to stay away from this guy."

AT FIRST, THE singer and the adviser got along fine. "Smooth sailing," Ms. Simon said. "Things looked as though they were moderately improving for the first four or five years." She didn't talk to Mr. Starr very often, though she sometimes saw him up on Martha's Vineyard, where they both knew the humorist Art Buchwald.

When the fall started, it was too slow to bother her. There were sporadic warnings from friends, and there were official complaints in court from clients like Sly Stallone, Wesley Snipes and Joan Stanton, the widow of a Volkswagen mogul and the radio voice of Lois Lane. Ms. Simon got a new assistant, who saw she was being billed for odd storage units-and, somehow, James Taylor's health insurance. There was a tax mishap. There was a piece of paper sent to Martha's Vineyard that would have sold off her favorite investment had she signed. There was an enormous line of credit established.

But it was not a crisis. "My life was so filled with so many other problems," she said. There were health issues to worry about, and her children, plus her relationship with Starbucks, which she eventually sued over an album. "'We've set it up,' said Ken Starr to me, 'so that you will not have to worry for the rest of your life.'"

A few months after the collapse of Lehman Brothers, the singer got a call from a woman at the Starr office. She wanted whatever money that was in Ms. Simon's Martha's Vineyard account transferred to New York, because there suddenly wasn't enough money to pay staff members, like the assistant. "That's when I began to call Ken," she said.

"Why would you want to get in touch with him?" someone at his office said. In January, as she tells it, she waited an hour to speak to him. "I said, 'Ken, why don't I have any money?'"

"What do you mean?" he said. "Everything's fine."

She left him, wiped out. Beyond the question of negligence, she and her attorney, Marty Singer, say she may be a victim of the Ponzi scheme he's been accused of. Last year, The Times called him the "go-to guy for star-crossed stars." "We are at the stage," he said this week, "when we could be suing."

"She claimed things, that he allowed her to spend too much money on her house, stuff like that," said the attorney Bert Fields, who has done work for Mr. Starr for years, and helped him with Ms. Simon's complaints earlier this year. "That's the kind of thing my wife might accuse me of."

"Oh, bullshit," she said. "I think you spend too much on your investments based on what your money manager tells you to spend."

"I would be reluctant to file the suit," said Mr. Fields. "But listen, it costs $65, I think, to file." A few years ago, The Times called him "the man to call when taking on a studio."

Mr. Starr was arrested with the former president of the City Council, Andrew Stein, who was charged with lying to federal officers about a shell company that was used for Mr. Starr's fraud; Mr. Stein was released on bail. Attorney Ed Hayes, an inspiration for Tom Wolfe's The Bonfire of the Vanities, met with Mr. Starr in jail. "He didn't seem cocky in the slightest; he seemed very disheartened and upset," Mr. Hayes said.

Mr. Hayes was only involved for a few days. "In the beginning, he said, 'I'm going to have the money,' and then he didn't come up with it."

When Ms. Simon heard about the agents and the arrest and the jailing, she said she felt sorry that she hadn't left Mr. Starr earlier. "There was one friend of mine that said, 'I just feel I'm too old to deal with this. He takes me out to lunch when I'm in town!' So there was one friend of mine who just wasn't going to do anything about it."

Her West Village duplex has been on the market for years, but she still has her house on Martha's Vineyard. There, waiting for a Lyme disease test early this week, she was in bed again in the late afternoon, but optimistic. "I'm a believer," she said. "So I'm a believer that the next great thing could happen."

mabelson@observer.com

But Mr. Galifinakis’ presence at the gala was representative of a mood there that celebrated the younger elements in both the audience and the company. Caroline Kennedy, whose late mother was a board member, praised the ABT’s efforts to engage a wider audience through touring. Then, accepting an award marking his 25-year trusteeship, billionaire David Koch spoke reverently of the “beautiful young bodies” that would soon grace the stage.

The whirlwind performance was a preview of 13 shows forthcoming this season, the company’s 70th. Dancers were whisked on and off the stage, leaping from Vivaldi to Tchaikovsky to a heady piece involving the music of Robert Fripp, strobe lights and levitation.

After the show, guests dined in a massive tent in Lincoln Center, where Bebe Neuwirth called the evening “thrill after thrill after thrill.” She’d handed out scholarships for the ABT during the meal and afterward spoke eagerly with all dancers who approached. “I entered ballet class at age 5 and in some ways I never left,” she told us.

Actress Isabella Rossellini said that she particularly favored a hot-and-heavy sampling from a ballet based on the Dumas novel Lady of Camellias (opening May 25). She was seated next to the Met’s general manager, Peter Gelb.

“I think it’s great for ballet and opera to bring new audiences in. That’s what the art form’s all about,” he said.

Can we count on him continuing to shake things up with that goal in mind?

“I’m staying on the course that I began.”

Governor David Paterson has spent a lifetime in Albany.

Before his six-day-old campaign came to a halt last week—and long before he became Topic A for the New York media—Mr. Paterson’s career trajectory seemed to defy physics.

Over 21 years as a state senator, he had the freedom, as a member of the powerless minority party, to build friendly relationships with colleagues and members of the media without facing much in the way of critical scrutiny. Who cared if a Democratic state senator flip-flopped on a bill, or showed up late to work, or had a bit of a thing for the ladies? “As minority leader of the Senate, you’re not in position to take responsibility for the decisions you make,” one of Mr. Paterson’s former colleagues said. One reporter who covered Albany says he kept Mr. Paterson’s cell phone number nearby because you “never knew” what he’d say.

“As the [minority] leader, he was always unusual, unpredictable,” said Democratic consultant Hank Sheinkopf. “He always did what he wanted. He never wanted to be governor.” When Mr. Paterson did become governor, “it was always the same. He always danced to a different drum.”

As Mr. Paterson rose to Democratic minority leader, then lieutenant governor, and then finally governor, his erratic leadership style, flippant remarks and casual relationship with the truth grew more problematic for everyone around him.

As a February 2006 Observer profiled noted, Mr. Paterson’s official biography had inaccuracies. He didn’t grow up in Harlem. He wasn’t really an attorney. He didn’t pass the bar exam and was never vetted before being tapped to become Eliot Spitzer’s candidate for lieutenant governor. In that profile, Mr. Paterson also explained how he opposed the death penalty on moral grounds, a shift from earlier statements in which he said he didn’t know how capital punishment could be administered fairly.

It was sometimes hard to figure out what Mr. Paterson was thinking. Weeks before he won a blowout election on Mr. Spitzer’s ticket, he told New York magazine he was already considering ditching the job and was feeling alienated and ignored. But a few months later, he was staunchly entrenched as lieutenant governor, defending Governor Spitzer’s heavy-handed manner of dealing with Mr. Paterson’s former colleagues in the Legislature. “Legislators may not like the methods,” Mr. Paterson said at the time, “but they’re getting the message the public is paying attention.”

That spring Lieutenant Governor Paterson seemed to be rethinking his plans once again, having created his own political action committee, called Paterson for New York. The move seemed to suggest a desire to take over the Senate seat that was to be vacated by Hillary Clinton, who was running for president. “It leaves the door open for possibilities,” a Paterson spokeswoman said at the time.

In March of 2008, in the wake of the Spitzer scandal, he was suddenly governor, and there was a general airing out of his dirty past. In his first interviews, Mr. Paterson admitted to having had numerous extramarital affairs—some with women who worked directly or indirectly for him. Soon after, Mr. Paterson said that he’d spent some of his campaign money in prior years on dinners and clothing, unrelated to any campaign activities. Still later, sensing that reporters were onto the story, he went on television and admitted to having used cocaine as a young man.

After that came a series of gaffes. On June 16, Mr. Paterson was apparently caught trash-talking Mayor Michael Bloomberg, creating a splashy front-page story in the New York Post. And then one day before the September 2008 primaries, the governor referred to fellow lawmakers in Albany as “bloodsuckers” for staying late in the Capitol and undoing the good work other people do in the daytime. It led to a Post cover depicting Assembly Leader Sheldon Silver as a vampire.

Assemblyman Richard Brodsky dismissed the remark as a poorly executed joke, but warned that such pronouncements would be taken less kindly if they were to become a habit. At the time, a New York magazine writer described Mr. Paterson’s improvisational-seeming leadership style as “jazz government.”

When Ms. Clinton resigned her position in the Senate to become secretary of state in January 2009, Mr. Paterson was called upon to appoint someone to the seat.

Caroline Kennedy had been the leading candidate in the media for weeks, but the day after Ms. Clinton stepped down, Mr. Paterson issued a statement saying Ms. Kennedy had withdrawn her interest. Immediately afterward, Paterson aides floated vague stories about tax and nanny problems as the reason she backed away. On January 23, Mr. Paterson selected freshman Rep. Kirsten Gillibrand, angering other candidates in the congressional delegation with more seniority who sought the position. On January 27, Mr. Paterson denied knowing who spread unflattering—and false—information about Ms. Kennedy. Mr. Paterson also declined to investigate.

By mid-February 2009, Mr. Paterson’s well-connected spokeswoman, Risa Heller, left the administration. Before the month was over, Mr. Paterson’s consulting firm, Global Strategy Group, terminated its contract with him. Soon after, an internal report about Mr. Paterson’s tenure as Democratic leader in the State Senate revealed disorganization and ineptitude throughout the ranks. And then, in June, a volatile state senator, Kevin Parker, called Mr. Paterson the “coke-snorting, staff-banging” governor. (He quickly apologized.)

In late July, reports of Mr. Paterson’s staying out late at a nightclub began circulating. Mr. Paterson said the reports were inaccurate. It was a restaurant, he said, and he left before midnight.

On Aug. 21, Mr. Paterson went on Errol Louis’ radio show and blamed his public-relations troubles on racism in the media. He said that the treatment he was getting was similar to what the media was inflicting on other African-American executives, including Massachusetts Governor Deval Patrick and President Obama.
Then came the president. The administration reportedly sent messengers to Mr. Paterson urging him to bow out of the upcoming gubernatorial race. When Mr. Obama visited upstate New York, he hugged Mr. Paterson in a way that made it hard for photographers to capture the image. Then he heaped praise on Mr. Cuomo, a moment captured in a photograph of the two men smiling and shaking hands, which was widely circulated.

Mr. Paterson’s fund-raising numbers in January were abysmal compared to Mr. Cuomo’s. In January, Mr. Paterson’s campaign spokeswoman, Tracy Sefl, left and was not replaced.

Then rumors about a big New York Times story began circulating.

apaybarah@observer.com

Norman Oder takes some questions on Atlantic Yards.

The Goldman Sachs p.r. offensive gets borderline offensive.

Would NBC Universal really go public?

Famous people will put on scrappy plays.

A female writer recalls the bad old days at the Late Show.

David Chang plays nice.

Choire Sicha uses graphs to explain the way newspapers write about the death of newspapers.

Everyone is getting on famously at The Times.

Doree Shafrir chats with Gail Collins on Jezebel.

Attention Mets fans: Philly.com wants to know why you hate the Yankees.

The Nook is hot, despite its name.

One bit of related trivia: The firm Kennedy hired when she was in the hunt for a Senate appointment, Knickerbocker SKD, is representing one of Vance’s rivals, Leslie Crocker Snyder.

One bit of related trivia: The firm Kennedy hired when she was in the hunt for a Senate appointment, Knickerbocker SKD, is representing one of Vance’s rivals, Leslie Crocker Snyder.

I found Assemblyman Vito Lopez, also chairman of the Brooklyn Democratic Party, on the floor of the chamber and asked him what he was waiting for.

"I initially supported Caroline Kennedy, and then when Caroline withdrew and the governor designated [Gillibrand], I was surprised because on issues like immigration, on guns, and several other issues are very different than my issues, and not only mine but some people in Brooklyn," she said. "What we really need to have her do is have her meet with some of the key leaders in Brooklyn before I could even consider an endorsement."

I noted that Gillibrand has visited Brooklyn, and asked what further contact was needed.

"We have to formalize it. If she comes in as the guest of certain people, some of them Congressional people, and that's fine. People come in, Brooklyn's a big place. But to get the endorsement of the Kings County Democratic Party is depending on getting the district leaders involved. They cast the vote. She hasn't, as of yet, met with one district leader. She is interested in meeting with us and having a dialogue, and I expect that will happen after we break."

I asked if there had been any pressure to offer an endorsement.

"She has called me maybe seven or eight times to talk and have a meeting. I have not responded to those calls. We've never spoken."

I asked if that was typical for a sitting U.S. senator.

"Let me say this: I believe whoever is putting together her campaign, they're pushing a lot of the good buttons. They've cleared the field except for maybe Carolyn Maloney, but they've got three or four: There was a big interest in Israel, another interest in Scott Stringer, all those people who, I think some have been called, have gotten out of the race. So you have to give her credit for her political operation. The fact that she is not known to the city, her positions have not been reflective of what the majority of people in New York City feel, is problematical. Is she doing well at getting endorsements? If she has 90 percent of the county leaders, I think she's doing very well."

I asked if, ideologically, the party might be more in sync with Maloney or Representative Jose Serrano Sr., who has said he might challenge Gillibrand in a primary.

"I would believe that those traditional Democrats, we would be much more—Carolyn Maloney or Jose Serrano, who I know as a member, we served together—would have issues and philosophies which would, initially, be very positive for them to gain the endorsement. She's changing, and she's changing rapidly, but why is she changing and what does that mean to the political leaders of Brooklyn? So I think the jury is still out in Brooklyn about what we do. I think in the next two months, we'll be resolving it."

“I cannot wait to see Michelle Obama!” said the fit morning-talk-show host Kelly Ripa, adding that she was wearing fake eyelashes for the occasion. “I love her whole physicality—she’s so tall and statuesque and good-looking!”

Ms. Ripa was wearing a strapless navy Alberta Ferretti gown with a taut bodice. “I chose it because—I know this will sound silly—but I thought it made me look busty!” she said. Asked whether her bare arms were a sartorial tribute to the first lady, Ms. Ripa giggled. “Let me tell you about the arms,” she said. “It’s springtime, but it’s very cold tonight and it’s very hard finding anything with a sleeve. Trust me!”

The actress Lindsay Price arrived in a mermaid-style dress designed by Carolina Herrera, an honorary co-chair of the evening along with Ms. Obama, Caroline Kennedy, socialite Blaine Trump and actress Renée Zellweger.

“I’m over the moon!” Ms. Price said about the sheer possibility of being near the first lady. “I think I’ll be too shy to go out of my way to meet her, but I’m happy to just be in her company.”

Behind her, be-furred Vogue editor Anna Wintour, arms crossed and sunglasses in place, was being escorted inside. Vanity Fair’s Amy Fine Collins was close behind. “I’m very excited. Not only do we have ballet tonight, but we have politics, too,” said Ms. Collins, whose upper arms were also exposed.

Calvin Klein designer Francisco Costa arrived with model Dree Hemingway, granddaughter of Ernest, on one arm and socialite Amanda Brooks on the other, each outfitted in one of his minimalist dresses. Is he hoping to woo Ms. Obama?

“Why do you think I’m here? I bought a tuxedo for this!” Mr. Costa said. “She’s proven she has a great sensibility. She’s figuring her own way out and doing an amazing job.”

Actress Mariska Hargitay proclaimed herself above all this fashion flim-flam. “I’m not obsessed with what she wears, I’m obsessed with Michelle Obama,” she said firmly before ducking inside. 

Meanwhile, Lynda Carter, the original Wonder Woman, recalled the year she attended the ballet in the company of another first lady: Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis.

“She was so chic,” Ms. Carter said. “I am excited to meet Michelle Obama. She’s just killer. And tall!”

As guests took their seats, Senator Chuck Schumer welcomed Caroline Kennedy to the stage. Ms. Kennedy in turn welcomed the much-awaited first lady, who (having snuck in through an underground entrance) appeared from behind the gold curtain in a sparkly black Azzedine Alaïa cocktail dress. A standing ovation ensued. (Real estate developer Janna Bullock even put her BlackBerry away for a moment to clap.)

After a few gracious words about the importance of “learning through the arts,” Ms. Obama headed to a private box containing Jill Biden, Ms. Kennedy and the White House social secretary, Desirée Rogers.

During the intermission, the VIPs thronged a roped-off reception area. Ripa chatted with Caryn Zucker, wife of NBC president Jeff Zucker; Ms. Wintour greeted billionaire David Koch; and Ms. Rogers huddled with anchors Al Roker and Deborah Roberts.

“There’s just something kind of special about this night to begin with, and then you add Michelle Obama on top of that and …” Mr. Roker gushed.

“You’ll really stay awake,” Ms. Roberts said.

“Yeah, normally I look at this as a good shot at napping,” admitted Mr. Roker. “But I’m thinking this is actually something I should probably stay awake for.”

Wearing a formal belted black dress, Ms. Rogers told the Daily Transom that she and Ms. Obama were enjoying the show.

“It is a great night for America, really,” she said. “To see this lovely ballet, to see these children from the Jackie Kennedy Onassis school perform for the first time, it just brings everything full circle and we’re just delighted to be here.”

Alas, there was no sign of the first lady at the glitzy intermission. And as Mr. Roker pointed out, it would be fairly difficult to clink champagne flutes with her anyway.

“There’s this little thing called the Secret Service that I think will keep everyone from flocking to her,” he said.