The new Cartier Love bracelets.

There was dash, there was swoon, there was confusion and there was envy. But how could there not be on "declare your love" day? "Cartier stands for love, commitment and passion," said Frederic de Narp, President and CEO of Cartier North America, as he launched a national charity initiative from Manhattan's de facto pulpit, the NASDAQ exchange in Times Square on June 8. And if the adoring looks of the ladies present were anything to go by, the day was off to a tragic start: the 37-year old Frederic—clearly the hottest CEO in North America—was married and would go home that evening to Chateaux de Narp in Westchester to be with his "brilliant and amazing wife" and their six children.

And then there was Sarah Jessica Parker, who arrived with golden hair a-flowing on feet that barely touched the floor. "They are fabulous," whispered a French reporter in awe of Ms. Parker's gravity-defying Christian Louboutin shoes, even though it looked as if the delicate star might break free at any moment and float off to join the cast of a pre-Raphaelite painting—which is quite possibly where she'd just come from. "I want to thank NASDAQ for this lovely and hospitable welcome," said Ms. Parker, as she was breaking poor NASDAQ's heart. She would ring in the opening of the exchange with Monsieur de Narp and Spike Lee, but she would not, as is tradition, sign the opening book.

Word spread quickly that it was because she didn't know what NASDAQ would do with her signature. This produced a "huh?" moment among the correspondents who cover luxury goods: Had Ms. Parker suddenly balked at endorsing global capitalism? Was she angry over the falling value of Google—or maybe harboring a secret love for the Paris Bourse? Who could say? But her playing hard-to-get added a certain frisson of authenticity to the proceedings; "for love, as Yeats warned, "will not seem worth thinking of to certain women if it seem certain."

And finally, there was the love charity bracelet; but one had to schlep back up to Fifth Avenue to actually see the material point of all this gentlemanly dash and girlish drama. Though Cartier has come rather late to the concept of wearing one's charity on one's wrist (or wherever), it has achieved what hitherto has been impossible: it has made the concept attractive. Drawing inspiration from the "screw motif" on the original 1969 love bracelet, the small gold rings born on braids of different color silk may officially say, "I love you UNICEF!" (Ms. Parker's designated charity), or "I want to save the Maasai Wilderness" (with Edward Norton), but they speak first and foremost to that most fundamental of charitable impulses: I love me!

"Buy em all," said Spike Lee, when pressed about how to choose between the eight bracelets retailing for $475 each (with $100 of that going to charity)—after all, there was some hot competition to Mr. Lee's violet bracelet from Liv Tyler's deep pink (The Breast Cancer Foundation), Ashley Judd's red (Youth AIDS), Salma Hayek's white (The Salma Hayek Foundation)—and even Michael Stipe's black (Mercy Corps).

Mr. Lee wants you to declare your love for his students at New York University's Tisch School of the Arts. "By buying the love bracelet that's violet," he said, moving closer to the tape recorder—"remember, NYU is violet—you'll be helping some very talented, talented film makers to get their films made." Mr. Lee graduated from the school's Kanbar Institute of Film and Television in 1982, has taught there for the past nine years, and was appointed its artistic director four years ago. He is currently editing his next movie, a four-hour documentary on the disaster that befell New Orleans last summer, "When the Levees Broke," which will air over August 21 and 22 on HBO. ("It looked like a nuclear bomb was dropped," said Lee, who made seven trips to the city.)

On the face of things, the thought of helping impecunious auteurs get to Sundance may not pull heart strings in the way helping the stricken and needy does (I ask you, who wouldn't want to help Scarlett Johansson help USA Harvest feed the hungry by wearing her baby pink bracelet?). But in a way, Mr. Lee's declaration of love was the most profound of all the celebrities collaborating with Cartier. "I love to teach," he explained—and anytime I can get some money to help these students." It was also the most shrewd. New York University now has the most chic alumni gift of any college in the nation.

Met: Sept. 6, 2005

Engaged: March 10, 2006

Projected Wedding Date: Oct. 22, 2006

When Sarah Mascareñas, a blond, blue-eyed bombshell Yalie (yes, they do exist), first walked into the law offices of Cravath, Swaine and Moore, where she was starting as an associate attorney, she was prepared for a hefty workload and a big paycheck. She wasn’t prepared for Doğan Perese, also an associate and a dreamy, dark-haired Harvard grad (yes, those exist too!) who couldn’t stop staring at her. “I thought maybe he liked me a little,” Ms. Mascareñas said over drinks at the Peninsula, in an incongruous but melodious Valley Girl accent.

“I was captivated by her,” Mr. Perese said.

They began furiously I.M.-ing.

“I met the most beautiful, nicest guy at work,” Ms. Mascareñas told her best friend. “I just didn’t want to sexually harass him.”

After about a month of this, their Title VII–related fears dissipated and he asked her out to the Moscow Cat Theater. A devoted feline-ophile, Ms. Mascareñas eagerly accepted. Alas, the show was booked solid, so she BlackBerried him a dinner invitation.

“Dinner with you would be extra-fabulous,” Mr. Perese punched back.

“That was more enthusiasm than I ever heard in my entire life,” Ms. Mascareñas said.

The date was arranged for Gramercy Tavern at 8, but at midnight, the two lusty legals were just leaving the office. The kitchen was closed, but they managed to cadge some cheese and dessert. After they toddled out, Ms. Mascareñas invited Mr. Perese to her apartment in Union Square to watch her favorite movie, The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, on video.

“I have a friend staying with me,” Mr. Perese said, disheartened. Then his eyes lit up. He hopped in a cab, let the visitor into his Upper East Side studio and then returned downtown.

“It’s so rare that anyone goes crosstown,” Ms. Mascareñas marveled to the Love Beat.

“For you …. I’ll go across boroughs,” Mr. Perese said. Awwww.

The following weekend, they decided to rent a car for a quick Hamptons getaway—only Mr. Perese, again, was working till midnight …. Yes, on a Saturday. After he’d finished, they hailed a passing pedicab and took it to Hertz, hitting the road at 2 a.m. in a bright yellow Chevy Cobalt. They arrived at their B&B at 4 a.m., Mr. Perese in his suit, Ms. Mascareñas in an evening dress. “Did you just come from the prom?” the bemused innkeeper asked.

Inseparability quickly followed, punctuated by monthly celebrations of their first date. On Month 6, Mr. Perese scored an early reservation at Per Se. Ms. Mascareñas, however, had—you guessed it—a fat pile of assignments. She drew a deep breath and told her superior she was bailing early. “I realize in retrospect that a lot of people probably wouldn’t respect that,” she said, “but it seemed very important to me, and it still does.”

At the restaurant, Mr. Perese was brandishing a gift bag clearly containing a book. Ms. Mascareñas thought it was one about exotic chickens (don’t ask) that she had admired.

In between courses six and seven, he handed her the tome: an Amanda Quick romance novel called With This Ring. Ms. Mascareñas, not a fan of the genre, looked perplexed. Meanwhile, the customarily levelheaded Mr. Perese was all of a sudden pulling a Woody Allen. “I was thinking maybe, you know, we could start thinking about maybe …. I wanted to get your opinions on all the different types of rings you would like,” he stammered, fumbling with a small box under the table.

“Is this a proposal?” Ms. Mascareñas asked.

The answer was sparkling clear: a 2.5-carat, radiant-cut, platinum-set fancy yellow diamond from Fred Leighton.

A month later, while these two young fogies were enjoying a Cole Porter revue by ravishing cabaret singer Mary Cleere Haran at the Carlyle, she handed him a gold Cartier wedding band and proposed herself.

They’re still working at Cravath, plan to live in his Upper East Side studio, and will be married on the Miro Lawn at the Bacara Resort in her native Santa Barbara.

Paul Keegan and Tatiana Logisheva

Met: Feb. 18, 2005

Engaged: Dec. 25, 2005

Projected Wedding Date: June 17, 2006

Tatiana Logisheva, 35, a world-champion ballroom dancer from Russia, and Paul Keegan, 48, a freelance writer based in New York who regularly contributes to Money and Business 2.0, are planning to marry at the Galini Seafood Restaurant in Astoria, blocks away from their two-bedroom apartment, in a ceremony officiated by Kim Kirkley, a certified celebrant. Ms. Logisheva’s parents took a 19-hour bus ride to Moscow from Volgograd (formerly Stalingrad), hoping to secure a visa so that they could attend, but their application was denied. “We’re trying to create a Russian-American family,” Mr. Keegan said, his voice faltering, “and the government is stopping us from doing it—and we’re just outraged.”

The couple was set up by a mutual friend. The slender, high-cheekboned Ms. Logisheva had been in New York for 10 years. “At first, I don’t understand American culture or American people,” she said throatily. “In the beginning, it was very hard. I thought if I do get married, I would get married to Russian man.” Then she met the athletically built, redheaded Mr. Keegan at Gabriel’s in Columbus Circle, near where she was teaching at DanceSport. Drinks turned into dinner, which turned into more drinks: a steamy taxi ride to Pravda in Nolita.

“I swear that she kissed me in the cab,” Mr. Keegan said.

“No, I think he kissed me first.”

After five months of dating, Mr. Keegan spent two sweltering summer weeks with Ms. Logisheva and her parents in their dacha. “They were so welcoming, so laid-back and so loving,” he said. One night, everyone was sitting around in lounge clothes. “Tatiana was so beautiful in this flower slip-on,” Mr. Keegan said. “Her mom had made this incredible feast, her dad’s pouring me shots of vodka, and I thought, I think I’m in a movie or something. I thought, I want to marry this woman. If I only had a ring …. ”

The following Christmas, alone together at his brother’s house in Sonoma County, Mr. Keegan gave his devoshka an enormous hand-painted matryoshka doll, each wooden layer featuring a scene from Pushkin’s Tale of the Fisherman and the Fish.

“I love it!” Ms. Logisheva squealed. When she popped open the 11th and innermost doll, she found three brilliant-cut diamonds set in a “bridge” style along a white-gold ring, from H.J. Namdar on 47th Street. Mr. Keegan pulled out a bouquet of red roses from behind the couch and uttered a phrase he’d been practicing for almost a month:

“Predlagaya tebya moyu rooku e sertza.” (Translation: “Please take my hand and my heart.”)

“Yes,” she whispered.

Next week, Christie's is auctioning off 250 personal items from Bobby Short's Upper East Side home.

The famed singer and pianist, who performed at the Cafe Carlyle for more than 35 years, died last March. Lot highlights from the auction include the talent's black lacquer Bechstein grand piano, his Cartier wristwatch and a wooden bird house that models The Carlyle Hotel.

The Sale at Christie's

- Riva Froymovich

The suspect didn't even bother to enter the store and fondle the merchandise. Rather, he stood in front of the store's window, plunged his hands down his trousers and started to pleasure himself.

The staff at La Perla didn't appreciate the tribute; then again, they didn't panic, either. Instead, they started yelling at the perp to leave, his heartfelt testimonial being not exactly the sort that attracts business and helps to move the store's posh silk slippers, bathrobes and cutting-edge bustiers.

When that didn't work, one of the saleswomen whipped out her camera phone to record the crime in progress and get the pervert's picture. That persuaded him to flee northbound on Madison Avenue with an impromptu camera crew—the employee and her co-worker—in hot pursuit.

They failed to catch him, and a canvass of the area by the NYPD came up with negative results. Nonetheless, one cop was duly impressed with the potential of camera phones as crime-fighting devices. “What could be better than that?” she enthused. “It's like a videotape of the crime!”

Emergency Room

One tends to think of oneself as safe on the examining table in a doctor's office—at least from crime, if not from the physician's negligence, arrogance, incompetence or egregious bedside manner. But a couple of recent incidents suggest that patients ought to guard their valuables (not to mention their dignity) as jealously in their doctors' offices as they would on, say, the A train at 4 a.m.

On June 21, a Bellmore, N.Y., man told the police that he'd gone to an East 72nd Street doctor's office for X-rays. The procedure required him to remove his clothes as well as all metal objects from his person. It's a dilemma we've all faced at one time or another: You don't want to leave your valuables behind; on the other hand, you can't really take them with you, and you're afraid if you share your concerns with the staff, they'll think you're accusing them of being crooks. So you leave your jewelry and other baubles behind and hold your breath.

In this case, the patient undoubtedly wishes he'd that broken the rules and kept his valuables on his person, even if it meant getting them X-rayed. When he returned to the changing room, the white-gold (with diamond) Cartier Panthere ladies' watch that he'd been carrying was gone. The watch was valued at $12,920.

Meanwhile, the crook that visited an East 83rd Street doctor's office on June 15 was even more brazen. He dropped by the examining room at 11:15 a.m. and helped himself to one patient's property while she was stretched out on the examining table waiting to see her doctor.

The victim, a 48-year-old Ridgefield, N.J., resident, told the cops that she'd heard someone going through her pocketbook. When she turned around, she spotted a fellow wearing a dust mask, a pair of wire-framed eyeglasses and a multicolored knit cap—not exactly your standard operating-room scrubs. When she asked him if she could help him, the perp turned around and left the room.

The woman checked her pocketbook immediately after his departure and discovered her $300 Samsung cell phone missing. An employee at the doctor's office said that she'd seen the suspect when he'd first arrived at the office but, perhaps thinking that he was a patient or a pharmaceutical-company salesman (so what if he wasn't cute and blond and toting a sample case?), didn't raise any alarms.

Serendipity

When has a restaurant become too popular? How about when it gets so crowded that crooks can pick your pockets while you're waiting on line for a table? That's apparently what happened to one Freehold, N.J., resident when she visited Serendipity 3, the café and confectioner at 225 East 60th Street, around 3:30 p.m. on June 24.

The victim told the police that she was “bumped multiple times.” As it turns out, it wasn't fellow patrons jockeying for a glass of the restaurant's celebrated frozen hot-chocolate parfait: It was one or more pickpockets rifling through her pocket book.

She became aware of the crime when she noticed that her bag was open and her wallet missing. It contained $220 in cash, credit cards and her New Jersey driver's license. And it didn't take long for the thieves to put her plastic to good use: Shortly afterwards, they spent $800 at Natalie and Friends, a children's clothing store located a couple of doors west of Serendipity at 205 East 60th Street. A saleswoman at Natalie and Friends was confident that she could ID the perp.

The suspect didn't even bother to enter the store and fondle the merchandise. Rather, he stood in front of the store's window, plunged his hands down his trousers and started to pleasure himself.

The staff at La Perla didn't appreciate the tribute; then again, they didn't panic, either. Instead, they started yelling at the perp to leave, his heartfelt testimonial being not exactly the sort that attracts business and helps to move the store's posh silk slippers, bathrobes and cutting-edge bustiers.

When that didn't work, one of the saleswomen whipped out her camera phone to record the crime in progress and get the pervert's picture. That persuaded him to flee northbound on Madison Avenue with an impromptu camera crew-the employee and her co-worker-in hot pursuit.

They failed to catch him, and a canvass of the area by the NYPD came up with negative results. Nonetheless, one cop was duly impressed with the potential of camera phones as crime-fighting devices. "What could be better than that?" she enthused. "It's like a videotape of the crime!"

Emergency Room

One tends to think of oneself as safe on the examining table in a doctor's office-at least from crime, if not from the physician's negligence, arrogance, incompetence or egregious bedside manner. But a couple of recent incidents suggest that patients ought to guard their valuables (not to mention their dignity) as jealously in their doctors' offices as they would on, say, the A train at 4 a.m.

On June 21, a Bellmore, N.Y., man told the police that he'd gone to an East 72nd Street doctor's office for X-rays. The procedure required him to remove his clothes as well as all metal objects from his person. It's a dilemma we've all faced at one time or another: You don't want to leave your valuables behind; on the other hand, you can't really take them with you, and you're afraid if you share your concerns with the staff, they'll think you're accusing them of being crooks. So you leave your jewelry and other baubles behind and hold your breath.

In this case, the patient undoubtedly wishes he'd that broken the rules and kept his valuables on his person, even if it meant getting them X-rayed. When he returned to the changing room, the white-gold (with diamond) Cartier Panthere ladies' watch that he'd been carrying was gone. The watch was valued at $12,920.

Meanwhile, the crook that visited an East 83rd Street doctor's office on June 15 was even more brazen. He dropped by the examining room at 11:15 a.m. and helped himself to one patient's property while she was stretched out on the examining table waiting to see her doctor.

The victim, a 48-year-old Ridgefield, N.J., resident, told the cops that she'd heard someone going through her pocketbook. When she turned around, she spotted a fellow wearing a dust mask, a pair of wire-framed eyeglasses and a multicolored knit cap-not exactly your standard operating-room scrubs. When she asked him if she could help him, the perp turned around and left the room.

The woman checked her pocketbook immediately after his departure and discovered her $300 Samsung cell phone missing. An employee at the doctor's office said that she'd seen the suspect when he'd first arrived at the office but, perhaps thinking that he was a patient or a pharmaceutical-company salesman (so what if he wasn't cute and blond and toting a sample case?), didn't raise any alarms.

Serendipity

When has a restaurant become too popular? How about when it gets so crowded that crooks can pick your pockets while you're waiting on line for a table? That's apparently what happened to one Freehold, N.J., resident when she visited Serendipity 3, the café and confectioner at 225 East 60th Street, around 3:30 p.m. on June 24.

The victim told the police that she was "bumped multiple times." As it turns out, it wasn't fellow patrons jockeying for a glass of the restaurant's celebrated frozen hot-chocolate parfait: It was one or more pickpockets rifling through her pocket book.

She became aware of the crime when she noticed that her bag was open and her wallet missing. It contained $220 in cash, credit cards and her New Jersey driver's license. And it didn't take long for the thieves to put her plastic to good use: Shortly afterwards, they spent $800 at Natalie and Friends, a children's clothing store located a couple of doors west of Serendipity at 205 East 60th Street. A saleswoman at Natalie and Friends was confident that she could ID the perp.

Bank Manager Nets Crook

The cops have put the blame for a recent rash of bank robberies not just on the crooks themselves, but also on the banks they plundered for their lackadaisical attitude toward security. Perhaps taking that criticism to heart, the bank manager at the Commerce Bank's Second Avenue and 90th Street branch was largely responsible for apprehending a crook who tried to rob his place of business on May 4.

The perp showed up shortly after noon and handed the teller a note informing her that he had a gun and that he'd prefer large bills. Acquiescing to his wishes, the teller handed him $2,620, which the thief pocketed before fleeing northbound on Second Avenue.

The teller set off an alarm that resulted in the 19th Precinct activating its bank-robber-apprehension plan at 12:09 p.m. The plan-which may not be as impressive as it sounds, judging from the number of bank robbers it's netted-calls for all available units to respond to the vicinity of the crime scene and alerts any nearby subway stations to trap the fleeing criminal.

However, in this incident, the police were assisted by something even more valuable than a plan: the 36-year-old Commerce Bank branch manager, who took it upon himself to pursue the perp, and who pointed him out to the cops when they joined the chase. He was eventually apprehended on 78th Street between First and Second avenues.

The bank teller whom the bandit intimidated into forking over the currency was then taken to the location, where she got a modicum of justice by positively identifying him in a "show-up." The thief, a 49-year-old homeless man, was charged with robbery.

Garden-Variety Job

A leaky roof, apparently, is the least of your problems when you live in a penthouse, as a Fifth Avenue and 74th Street resident discovered on April 16. The victim told the police that when she left her duplex apartment for the weekend, she'd neglected to lock the terrace door-not appreciating that her landscapers might pose something of a security risk.

The gardeners who visited in her absence had access to the terrace, where they were apparently employed in spring planting and pruning. However, their activities weren't supposed to take them indoors. Judging from the discovery she made upon her return home, that's what they may have done. The victim told the police that things were missing-and she didn't mean her pruning sheers, either.

Rather, the unknown perps had made off with around $2,000 worth of jewelry from her bedroom drawer-located, perhaps prophetically, next to the terrace door. The missing items included two gold wedding bands valued at $800 for the pair, a $1,000 Cartier watch and a $10 pair of zircon earrings. Though the housekeeper was in the apartment over the weekend, she told her boss that she didn't see anything. There were no signs of forced entry.

Occupational Hazard

Anyone who's ever visited a magazine office knows that, no matter how staid the rest of the publication, the fashion and accessories departments usually look like they've been hit by a bomb.

Perhaps being inured to that kind of chaos is what prevented a magazine's jewelry editor from noticing something odd at her East 74th Street apartment on April 12. Upon her return home at 10:30 that night, she discovered that numerous jewelry boxes were open on the top of her dresser-but, according to the police report, "she did not pay any attention" to the state of the jewelry boxes.

However, when the complainant was putting those same boxes away a couple of nights later, she came to a rather astonishing realization-the boxes were all empty. The victim, a 28-year-old woman, informed the police officers who responded to the scene that most of the items were gifts-a.k.a., swag-from the companies she does business with (which perhaps explains why jewelry-editor positions don't stay vacant for long).

The victim placed the value of the missing items at $112,000, including $18,000 for a charm bracelet, $10,000 for a diamond ring and $8,000 for diamond studs. Those with keys to the apartment included the landlord and the cleaning lady. And while a canvass of the area produced nothing, the police did manage to lift nine usable fingerprints from the apartment's surfaces.

Ralph Gardner Jr. can be contacted at e-mail RGard135@aol.com.

Caps and frowns: Yesterday, playwright Tony Kushner delivered the keynote address to Columbia's Class of 2004 , while its underachieving, sexually confused sister Barnard had to settle for author and social critic Barbara Ehrenreich . Today, they all throw their hats in the air and find out just what that pricey Ivy League education will buy them (try a 300-square-foot studio apt in Bed-Stuy ). In more Ivy League news , authors Andrew Solomon (Yale, Cambridge), Tom Dolby (Yale, scion of that family), publisher David Ebershoff (Brown) and attorney Philip Galanes (Yale) sprinkle themselves with fairy dust and gather at Readings by Out Authors …. Even if the Strokes are no longer what they used to be (svelte, single, superlative), their opening act, composed of Harper (son of Paul) Simon , childhood chum Sean Lennon and Sonic Youth's drum machine Steve Shelley , ought to placate tonight's SummerStage opening-night concert audience sufficiently. Hey, remember Greg Gutfeld , the editor of Stuff magazine who once crashed a Fashion Week show dressed like a bear? Well, Dennis Publishing is shipping its favorite curmudgeon off to jolly olde England to helm British Maxim . "I'm a little nervous because the Brits use different words over there," he told us. "Like instead of 'color,' it's 'colour.' And instead of 'program,' it's 'programme.' And instead of 'armpit sex,' they call it 'bagpiping.'" There goes the nabie! Tonight, he gets piped by former staffers and friends at a sendoff party at the increasingly swampy Marquee .

[Readings by Out Authors, Therapy, upstairs, 348 West 52nd Street, 6 to 9 p.m.; SummerStage opening night, Rumsey Field, Central Park, 6 p.m., by invitation only; Greg Gutfeld's goodbye party, Marquee, 289 10th Avenue, by invitation only, but it's not as if they're gonna keep you out.]

Thursday 20th

Fashionistasofsummer! Memorial Day is next weekend, and you bet your croquet mallet every Annabelle or Claire is gonna be sporting the same Ralph Lauren cricket jumper dress. Pick up some alternatives at today's sample sales: Vivienne Tam (dragons, lace and leather) and Catherine Malandrino (ethereal sweet-pea goddess who we still can't tell apart from Rebecca Taylor and Tracy Reese … ). Need a watch to go with that? Check out discreet Swiss watchmakers IWC's new "Aquatimer" watch at the Time Warner Center, alongside never-before-seen photos of Jacques Cousteau's first voyage . John Mayer-pouty pop star and former boyfriend of Jennifer L. Hewitt- "has, like , seven of them," according to a flack at IWC. Meantime, Ermenegildo Zegna's walls get papered in cashmere to show off baby-sister line Agnona to Senator Hillary Clinton , whose gleeful smile these days may be attributed to the fact that John Kerry ain't exactly surging , which equals "Hillary for Prez 2008!" (By the way, has anyone checked to see if Ms. Clinton was the one who mischievously recommended that peekaboo dress to the lovely Alexandra Kerry at Cannes a few days ago?) Anyway, gilded celebristocrat couples Chris 'n' Tory (cricket jumpers, anyone?), Jamee 'n' Peter , Arie 'n' Coco and Dennisse 'n' Larry host the Zegna bash …. In international news, the 60th anniversary of D-Day is coming up in a few weeks, and the French Institute Alliance Française shows two documentaries : U.S. Through the Scope of French Television and Operation Open Arm . Try to ignore the fact that the French guy next to you has snuck a pestilential pâté sandwich into the theater ….

[Catherine Malandrino Sample Sale, 275 West 39th Street, sixth floor, 9 a.m. to 7 p.m., 212-840-0106; Vivienne Tam Sample Sale, 550 Seventh Avenue, 20th floor, 10 a.m. to 7 p.m., 212-840-6740; 60th anniversary of D-Day, Florence Gould Hall, 55 East 59th Street, 6:30 p.m., 212-355-6100.]

Friday 21st

Sound check for the G.O.P.? At Madison Square Garden , the pop station Z100 unleashes a teeny-popper scrum called Zootopia . Who's howling: not-so- Newlywed Jessica Simpson (who's bringing back housewife chic), overly flatironed angsty teen Avril Lavigne , former naughty songstress Liz Phair and so-out-he's-back-in American Idol loser Will ("She Bangs, She Bangs") Hung . The Backstreet Boys slip in the back door to do some a cappella.

[Z100's Zootopia 2004, Madison Square Garden, 7 p.m., www.z100.com for tickets.]

Saturday 22nd

So half of us are tan, half of us are pasty , raising the question of when is it officially O.K. to start fake 'n' baking again? Perhaps inversely proportionate to the Memorial Day rule: After the holiday you can wear white, but should no longer be white? Meantime, the ubiquitous Jessica Simpson (who's taking classes at the Tara Reid School of Tanning Till You Resemble a Photo Negative ) teams up with the tawny gals at Allure for the mag's "Play Safe in the Park" Concert. "Before Jessica sings, there will be a beauty village under tents, so it's tented , and there are little stations and you can kind of jump around getting free makeovers, grabbing products and skin-care advice," said a flack. Playing more dangerously, Tracey Ullman busts out her zany, madcap shtick tonight as host of a bash honoring Lyn and Norman Lear and condiment heiress Teresa Heinz Kerry . It all goes down at the home of producer Richard ( Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas ) Foos. Your green goes to the Friends of CHEC for the Environment .

[ Allure 's "Play Safe in the Park" Concert, Central Park, Rumsey Field, Fifth Avenue at 69th Street entrance, 2 to 5 p.m., www.ticketmaster.com; Friends of CHEC for the Environment party, home of Shari and Richard Foos, some fancy apartment prob'ly on the Upper East Side, 7 p.m., 310-899-9191.]

Sunday 23rd

Before Mom gets into the gin again, take her to Mamapalooza , a mom-honoring music festival with mother artists. Festival organizer and all-around badass Joy Rose (lupis survivor, kidney transplant recipient and the lead singer of Housewives on Prozac) said, "People are astounded by the talent. It's like they think mothers just turn into a big cow and go out to pasture! We have a song called 'Fuzzy Slippers,' the first line of which is, 'I wipe my baby's chin with my college diploma.' And there's another called 'I Only Wanna Pee Alone.'" Then break out the Ritalin, because the latest Harry Potter installment ( Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban ) hops a Nimbus 2004 ( bzzzzzzzzz … ! ) and zooms into Rockefeller Center for the world premiere. If they keep cranking the films out this fast, we'll be spared the sight of a 35-year-old Daniel Radcliffe playing a teenager ….

[Mamapalooza, Riverside Park South, enter at the Hudson River at West 68th Street, noon to 4 p.m., 212-477-5262, www.mamapalooza.com; Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban premiere, Radio City Music Hall, 1260 Avenue of the Americas, 4 p.m., by invitation only.]

Monday 24th

Jake Gyllenhaal- upon whom an ex professed to have a "man crush", which should have been our first clue -has a new disaster movie, so tonight he stops nuzzling Kirsten Dunst (talk about disasters, how 'bout that haircut? Me-OW! ) and joins Dennis Quaid -the last real man in America-at the premiere of The Day After Tomorro w , a movie which will likely result in paranoid parents all over town rushing to sign their tykes up for swimming lessons …. A few blocks away, Al Gore (who is just about due to start teaching a class at the New School any day now) rides the film's coattails by staging an environmental rally . Want to scare the crap out of the Kerry campaign? Call them up and say, "Great news! Al Gore is about to endorse John Kerry on national television!"

[ The Day After Tomorrow premiere, American Museum of Natural History, Central Park West and 79th Street, 7 p.m., by invitation only.]

Tuesday 25th

While Bill and Hillary snored …. The trio of banker Jeffery Sachs , former U.S. ambassador to Nigeria and South Africa Princeton Lyman and do-good cobbler Kenneth Cole host the publication of Greg Behrman's The Invisible People at the pish-posh Harmonie Club . The book is about how the U.S. slept through the global AIDS pandemic . All good boys deserve Cartier: Somewhere in the no man's land of Curry Hill-at the Armory, to be specific-Cartier decided they ought to celebrate the 100th birthday of the Santos (the original trusto watch) by honoring seven disparate individuals for making a difference , just like Brazilian aviator Alberto Santos-Dumont , original purveyor of the name. For pioneer work in the field of pink high tops and wild boar , Mario Batali ; for pioneer work in the field of harem pants and genius complexes , Zac Posen ; Russell Simmons for veganism and sweatsuits , David LaChapelle for pioneer work in the field of Amanda Lepore and … you get the picture. Now go ask Mummy and Daddy for the watch.

[ The Invisible People book party, the Harmonie Club, 4 East 60th Street, 6:30 to 8:30 p.m.; by invitation only; Cartier party, the Armory, 68 Lexington Avenue, by invitation only.]

Wednesday 26th

Hello, sailor ! Pull out the smelling salts, men of Chelsea, it's Fleet Week! The seamen in their starchy whites will be strolling the streets, making even the most spruced-up Wall Streeter look positively naff and surely resulting in a New York Times Styles section "think" piece about how sailors are … sexy ! Uptown, future Westchester moms and their pocketfuls of Xanax flock to Barneys' renovated bridal registry and home-furnishings department, Chelsea Passage. Elle Decor 's editor, Margaret Russell, and Barneys chairman Howard Socol invite you to "frolic, imbibe and jubilate." But please wipe up after. We asked Ms. Russell what her Upper East Side apartment looks like. "Why does everybody always ask me that?" she laughed. "It's very white and loft-like. I'm surrounded by so much stuff in the office, I tend to be pared down at home. I'm not a particularly messy person, and I also travel a lot, which helps keep the whites white."

[Fleet Week, South Street Seaport, www.fleetweek.us; Chelsea Passage grand opening party, Barneys New York, ninth floor, Madison Avenue and 61st Street, 7 to 9 p.m., 212-909-2605.]

But Then Pushes Luck

The first rule to a successful life in crime is resisting the temptation to press your luck, as one overreaching perp did on April 27. On that date, the suspect visited Champagne Video, at 81st Street and First Avenue, at around 8 p.m. and absconded with $244.33 worth of DVD's.

But instead of calling it a night, he hailed a cab and told the driver to take him to 1676 First Avenue. When they arrived at their destination, the suspect displayed a knife and stated that he had no intention of paying the fare, even though the cost of the trip was a not-insurmountable $2.80. And if that wasn't nervy enough, he ordered the cabby to wait while he completed his business in the building.

Instead, the alienated driver called 911, prompting the arrival of a police officer, who spotted the suspect in the building's lobby. He waited outside and apprehended him at 88th Street and First Avenue. A show-up was conducted, and a victim-apparently a Champagne Video employee, not the cabby-positively identified him.

(Mini) Bar Service

Ever get the feeling when you stick a "Do Not Disturb" sign on your hotel door that the housekeeping staff doesn't think it applies to them-especially if it means they'll be late for their coffee break? A guest at the Regency hotel, at 540 Park Avenue, seems to have come up with proof of that inhospitable attitude.

On March 25 (though the crime wasn't reported until April 25), the victim placed a "Do Not Disturb" sign on her room door and departed for a shopping excursion at around 11 a.m. However, the staff apparently thought she wasn't serious, because when she returned to the room, she noticed that the mini-bar's wire seal was closed and intact. The victim, a 67-year-old East Hampton resident, recalled that prior to leaving on her shopping trip, she'd cut the wire off the bar to purchase some items-suggesting that someone had entered her rooms while she was gone, ignoring the "Do Not Disturb" sign, to restock the fridge.

Such zealousness might have been excused if the woman's $4,700 Cartier tank watch hadn't been missing. The victim concluded that whichever member of the hotel staff had entered the room against her wishes quite possibly might have helped himself (or herself) to the timepiece. The thief, if caught, will be charged with grand larceny.

Reading Signs

The fortuneteller's sign ("Reading $5-Palm and Tarot Cards"), parked in the hallway of the 19th Precinct on May 3, wasn't meant to suggest that the cops had started consulting crystal balls to solve crimes. Rather, the sign had been removed from an East 74th Street corner where it had been illegally attached to a lamppost to advertise the clairvoyant powers of a local mind-reader.

What with the death spiral the planet appears to be in at the moment, you'd think people would have better things to do than complain about fortunetellers' promotional material blocking the sidewalk. But the cops were holding the sign in protective custody in response to frequent complaints from a local resident who attends the monthly precinct community-council meetings.

"This has been going on at every meeting," said a police officer of the complaints. "[The sign] has been the resident's pet peeve for quite some time. We said, 'We'll take care of it.'"

Following the resident's complaints, the cops would contact the fortuneteller, who would promise in turn to remove the offending advertisement, but apparently never did. And then, at the next community-council meeting, the guy would complain again.

"We warned him to remove it," a police officer said of the fortuneteller.

Realizing that decisive action was called for, the police, at the direction of Inspector James Rogers, the 19th Precinct's commanding officer, removed the sign themselves on May 3, just in time for the monthly council meeting. The operation apparently required some delicacy, however.

"We had to sneak up on him," a police officer joked of the fortuneteller. "He can predict when we're coming."

Ralph Gardner Jr. can be reached at rgard135@aol.com.

Blonde leading the blonde: Hey, are we still at war , or what exactly is the deal here? Nobody's tying a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree, but at 8:30 a.m. this morning- about the time when last night's tequila shots leave our system with a shock -HBO's frizzy-haired little princess, Sarah Jessica Parker , is wrapping a big red ribbon around the Cartier Mansion on Fifth Avenue to "kick off" the holiday season …. She'll be joined by Cartier C.E.O. Stanislas de Quercize, Santa Claus and three sparkling panther figurines-the panther is apparently an important symbol of the House of Cartier, so keep the Siegfried and Roy jokes to yourself, please! …. Later, at a slightly more civilized hour: The Tibet House auctions off backstage passes to a Sting concert (tantric sex not included), a director's chair autographed by Robert De Niro and- whoo-ee , this sounds like fun- a transatlantic crossing on the Queen Mary II (for some reason, we find the idea of cruise ships inseparable from thoughts of E. coli and icebergs …). Who's on the honorary committee: power couples David Bowie and Iman, Kimora Lee and Russell Simmons, Christy Turlington and Edward Burns -um, do you see how the female half of each "power couple" is a supermodel ; what's wrong with this picture?-plus two more blondes : Sting's wife, Trudie Styler, and spurned wife Uma Thurman , who's kicking and punching and flailing her way toward a Nicole Kidman–style career comeback. " Uma is confirmed , but I'm not sure about the rest," said one of our favorite and most persistent publicists, Grant Lindsey.

[Cartier ceremony, 653 Fifth Avenue, 8:30 a.m., 212-334-0333; Tibet House benefit auction, Christie's, 20 Rockefeller Plaza, 6 p.m., 212-807-0563.]

Thursday 20th

Chomskying at the bit: Sure, Manhattan may have spent the last week gathered round 'puters watching what looked liked two raccoons mating , but there are some signs of intelligent life, thank heavens …. First, Asprey , another jewelry outfit-currently engaged in a midtown turf war with Harry Winston-is celebrating the expansion of their rare-book room (yes, jewelers are the new libraries!) by hauling in Salman Rushdie to read …. Later, demented linguist Noam Chomsky spouts anti-American vitriol at Columbia about postwar Iraq and its implications for the future, the marginalization of subaltern cultures and all that good stuff as he plugs his new book, Hegemony or Survival: America's Quest for Global Dominance . After that dull roar, the sparkle picks up again at Christie's, where Candice Bergen is auctioning off celebrity-designed benches to benefit the Central Park Conservancy. Former Mayor Rudy Giuliani designed one, which strikes us as somewhat ironic considering all the sleeping homeless he yanked off benches back in the day …. On a lighter note, Joan Rivers covered her seat in prickly Swarovski crystals and European glass beads, Liza Minnelli did hers up in a "Minnelli red" ultrasuede-very Studio 54-and our very own Simon Doonan created a white fiberglass bench with aluminum mannequin parts bolted to the bench -yes, homeboy sculpts, too-"to reflect and complement the insanely surreal juxtaposition of Central Park's beauty," he said, "plopped down in the middle of the stinky metropolis." That's how we feel sometimes sitting in the midst of all these min-Woodward and Bernsteins …

[Asprey, 723 Fifth Avenue, 9:30 a.m., 800-660-9159; Noam Chomsky, "After the War," Miller Theatre, Columbia University, 116th Street and Broadway, 2 p.m., 212-854-7799; Target Benchmarks Central Park, Christie's, 20 Rockefeller Plaza, 6 p.m., 212-310-6600.]

Friday 21st

Pony up for Bono: Back to Christie's! The cause du jour is an Irish hospice … and you know anywhere the phrase "Irish hospice" is bandied about, you're sure to find U2 front man Bono , the cultural forefather of Gwyneth Paltrow's lachrymose boyfriend Chris Martin …. Yes, it appears that Bono, the Tony Bennett of the wail-your-guts-out set, has done some paintings of the classic "Peter and the Wolf" tale-the kind of thing we imagine the eBay-addicted Midwestern soccer moms in puffy parkas who flood the city around this time of year will go absolutely wild for ….

[20 Rockefeller Plaza, 10 a.m. to 5 p.m., 212-636-2000.]

Saturday 22nd

New spin on J. Lo? But first! " Wicked smaht" Harvard students, with their inflated grades and egos, pile into their friends' daddies' Saabs and vrroom toward New Haven, where they will, in all likelihood- not that we're biased or anything -get their heinies kicked in "the Game" with Yale …. Meanwhile, on the other end of the Metro-North Line, the Exit Art gallery opens a new exhibit called L Factor : 30 renditions of important Latin figures, including a 5-foot-2 cotton-candy statue of Jennifer Lopez. (O.K., so she's actually 5-foot-6-this is a recession, people!) We found co-sculptor and F.I.T. grad Wanda Raimundi-Ortíz, 30, at the Blue Ox, where she's a barmaid by night. "I'm a spin doctor!" she said. " I was inspired by the notion of cotton candy and how high-maintenance it is and how difficult it is to work with . I decided to use this as a metaphor for celebrity and how easily it can collapse if you don't take care of it." Apparently, cotton candy disappears very quickly, so don't leave without getting yourself a piece of ass! "It withers to nothing 'cause it's 99 percent air, and I have to keep going back to tend to it. I'm pretty sick of it already ! She's given me some structural problems ."

[Harvard-Yale game, Yale Bowl, 12:30 p.m., www.yale.edu/athletics for directions; L Factor , Exit Art, 475 10th Avenue, 212-966-7745, www.exitart.org.]

Sunday 23rd

More early-morn fun: Luscious model Tyson Beckford , too-oft-overlooked actor Kyle MacLachlan, Trekkie Patrick Stewart and plucky Blaine Trump ostentatiously run or walk four miles in Central Park to benefit God's Love We Deliver , the H.I.V./AIDS charity that is about to get 100 times more attention because of Mike Nichols' stunning TV version of Angels in America …. We may show bleary-eyed with check in hand-our best friend says we're too self-involved and a bunch of other stuff we don't remember, and it's making us feel guilty ….

[The Race to Deliver, Central Park, 72nd Street and Fifth Avenue entrance, registration at 7:45 a.m., race starts at 10 a.m., 1-888-235-RACE.]

Monday 24th

Pinch my Tesh! The American Legacy Foundation honors a rather odd pairing: actor Kirk Douglas ( père to sleazy-sexy actor-producer Michael, grandpère to confused D.J. Cameron) and bodacious editor Ellen Levine , of the magazine Good Housekeeping , which we somehow can't believe still exists. Meanwhile, adolescent couples flick open their Zippos for sensitive-guy singer John Mayer at Madison Square Garden, and mushy songwriter John Tesh (you can laugh, but the guy is richer than God after writing the "N.B.A. on NBC" theme, etc.) is serving mushy mashed potatoes to the homeless, which is nice. Finally, ladies don beaded boleros for "A Magical Evening," a black-tie gala benefiting the Christopher Reeve Paralysis Foundation. Gloved fingers will pass awards to postmod architect Michael Graves, producer Francine LeFrak and Giuliani's former "advance man," Rick Friedberg. Say, does anyone have a magic carpet to take us to Bermuda?

[John Mayer, Madison Square Garden, 7:30 p.m., 212-307-7171; American Legacy Foundation Honors, Cipriani 42nd Street, 110 East 42nd Street, 6:30 p.m., 212-843-1718; Great Thanksgiving Banquet, New York City Rescue Mission, 90 Lafayette Street, noon to 7 p.m., 212-962-3373; A Magical Evening gala, Marriott Marquis, 1535 Broadway, 6:30 p.m., 212-627-1000.]

Tuesday 25th

Sex writers hold forth: For once …. Emma Taylor, 30, and Lorelei Sharkey, 31, a.k.a. Nerve.com columnists Em and Lo (not to be confused with Julia Roberts' favorite jewelry designers, Me and Ro), now have a Web site of their own and a sex manual, The Big Bang: Nerve's Guide to the New Sexual Universe , that's already in its third printing. The girls are bouncing back from a bad review in that mean ol' rag, The New York Sun . "It was our favorite of them all!" crowed Ms. Sharkey from rapidly gentrifying Cobble Hill, Brooklyn. "It was so personal and biting … so petty and over the top! You can tell he read it more closely than any of the other reviewers. He accused us of being trust-fund kids, Soho scenesters and hipsters, and called us 'passively attractive puppets.' We'd love to meet him in person." Tonight, they'll slip into saucy retro flight-attendant garb and deliver a "flight safety" lecture on anal sex. "People think the best way to do it is to get really drunk while the guy pretends he's aiming for the front but misses," said Ms. Taylor, conferenced in from the East Village, the epicenter of Manhattan dirty talk. "The lecture is that it's something everyone can enjoy because everyone has a bum . Plus, we like the idea that, from now on, people will think of anal sex every time they see the flight-safety lecture !" Preview of lecture: "As far as emergency exits go, any quick and sudden departures can cause the anal muscles to tense and spasm more than usual-" Uh, we think our phone is cutting out …. Going through tunnel …. Bye!

[The Bowery Poetry Club, 308 Bowery, www.nerve.com/bigbang.]

Wednesday 26th

Meet a young comic! Aaron Karo ("like the syrup"), 24, is a former frat-aholic who lives in Murray Hill. He's the author of Ruminations on College Life , a book about his drunken exploits at the University of Pennsylvania, which we're sure includes no anal adventures, and a contributor to CosmoGIRL …. "The editors asked, 'Well, if you were an 18-year-old girl going to college for the first time, what would you do?'" he said. "And I'm like, 'I dunno-suck everyone's d*ck?' Of course, they changed my answer to, 'Guys totally kiss and tell!'" Those p*ssies! Tonight, Mr. Karo brings his salty schtick to Carolines on Broadway, trying to fan the "heat" around a potential sitcom deal for which he recently went to L.A. to take the proverbial meetings. "We have major players who are very interested, and I hope to be signing some deal by the end of the year," he said. "Theoretically , I'm gonna write, produce, create and star, but again- theoretically." We'll check in with you later, sweet thing ….

[Carolines on Broadway, 1626 Broadway, 9:30 p.m., 212-757-4100.]

Equality of the Sexes

If we won't have fully achieved equality of the sexes until there are as many female as male perps, then, if a couple of recent incidents are any indication, we finally seem to be headed in the right direction.

On Oct. 24, at 6:40 p.m., two young ladies escorted by 10 young men visited the Padded Wagon, a moving-supply store at 1569 Second Avenue. Some of the crew distracted two store employees, asking, "How much is the duct tape?" while others helped themselves to the staff's loosely guarded wallets and credit cards.

When their mischief was complete, the suspects fled on foot westbound on East 81st Street with the stolen wallets, credit cards and $100 in cash. The employees pursued them, but one of the hapless victims was pushed by one of the male bandits and then-perhaps to demonstrate that anything a man can do, a woman can do better-was whacked by one of the female crooks with her umbrella. Despite their efforts, the store workers failed to rescue their property.

In another incident, which occurred approximately half an hour later at Bordan Exclusive, a deli at 1615 Second Avenue, four girls and three boys visited the establishment and conducted a raid on the store's racks. One attempts to resist the temptation to attribute certain thefts to the boys and others to the girls. However, at the risk of being branded a sexist, some of the goodies would seem to beckon more boldly to boys than girls, and vice versa.

For instance, several boxes of Macanudo cigars (25 to a box), valued at $150, were taken. The thieves, further refusing to heed the Surgeon General's warning, also absconded with $100 worth of Phillies blunt cigars. Among the items that might leap off the shelves in a young lady's direction were $12 worth of Dentyne Ice gum and four diet 7-Ups.

And then there were those impulse items that might fall into the unisex category. These included 10 hot smoked-beef snacks worth $8, six flash cameras valued at $60, and 15 packs of AA batteries worth $45.

When their work was done, the group fled ensemble southbound on Second Avenue. A police canvass was conducted, with negative results.

One-Woman Demo

Approximately 75 demonstrators representing Local 32BJ, a union trying to organize the maintenance staff at the Chapin School (which, in their opinion, isn't moving fast enough to embrace them), picketed the tony Upper East Side private school starting

at 2 p.m. on Oct. 22.

The police responded to the scene, erected barriers at the corner of East End Avenue and 84th Street, and placed the demonstrators behind the enclosure to prevent them from impeding the after-school pick-up of children.

The police reported that there were no incidents, with the exception of a minor contretemps instigated by the mother of a 12th grader who lives in the vicinity of Chapin. Apparently, the mom didn't appreciate that the union had leafleted her home.

"A local resident was concerned about the safety of her daughter," explained a police official, referring to the Chapin mom. "During the course of the demo she approached [the demonstrators] and said, 'You're not going to intimidate us !'"

She also expressed her displeasure to the cops. "I don't want them there," she reportedly told the police, referring to the picketers. "Unfortunately, it's the United States," observed the police official. "She wanted us to tell them to go home. She said, 'There's kids in the school. The demonstrators shouldn't be there.'"

The demonstration ended at 4:30 p.m. without injuries or further incident.

Nice Headlights

If you're the proud owner of a Lincoln Town Car, you may not want to park it on the street, at least for the moment. On Oct. 24, a 77-year-old gentleman reported to the 19th Precinct that he'd parked his car in front of 4 East 82nd Street.

When he returned to the vehicle-a black 2001 Lincoln Town Car Cartier Edition (whose posh accouterments may have included monogrammed floor mats and a gold dashboard clock)-the following morning, it was still there, but its headlights weren't. Both headlights, valued at $600, had been removed from the vehicle.

Diplomats don't enjoy immunity from such crimes, either. A U.N. representative from the Mongolian People's Republic reported that his 2002 blue Lincoln Town Car was recently parked in front of his nation's mission, at 6 East 77th Street, when unknown perps absconded with his headlights. The victim told the police he hadn't noticed anyone suspicious in the area.

Satchel Sting

If your heart is set on a knockoff Hermès, Coach, Louis Vuitton or Prada handbag, you'll have to do your shopping somewhere besides East 60th Street, out in front of Serendipity, the ice-cream shop whose weekend crowds-until Oct. 27, at least-doubled as a client base for a mini-kasbah of street merchants.

It was at noon on that benighted day that police swooped down on the illegal vendors from several directions. "The operation involved one sergeant and five cops," explained Captain James Murtagh, the 19th Precinct's executive officer. "Normally, [the vendors] run. But the officers came at them from all sides and apprehended all five," the captain added.

The police confiscated 370 handbags, which retail for approximately $25 a bag, according to Capt. Murtagh, and charged all five street hawkers with unlicensed general vending.

Ralph Gardner Jr. may be reached at rgard135@aol.com.