A Meaningful Glance- And the Jig Is Up
The members of the 19th Precinct Grand Larceny Squad experienced an undeniable frisson of excitement on May 23, when they spotted a pair of pickpockets they’d been after for some time about to board a bus at 86th Street and Second Avenue around 8:30 a.m.
“We Read More
We spent last week in Kraków, a fine city, but not a place
one can reasonably expect to keep absolutely up-to-date on the doings of
Princess Pavlos of Greece. Ask your average Krakówite-in-the- ulica (street) what he or she thinks of
this year’s crop of hats at the Nature Conservancy lunch, and you’ll get a Read More
Wednesday 18th
Lotus entertain you! Let’s face it: No matter how many well-showered fashion models, cozy little pie companies and fancy flower markets they put in the meatpacking district, the place just isn’t gonna smell good until they clear out those dear, departed cows …. But can you blame a gal for trying? Tonight at Read More
Wednesday 18th
Lotus entertain you! Let’s face it: No matter how many well-showered fashion models, cozy little pie companies and fancy flower markets they put in the meatpacking district, the place just isn’t gonna smell good until they clear out those dear, departed cows . But can you blame a gal for trying? Tonight at Read More
On Feb. 26, at 7 p.m., Jill Kopelman stepped out of a
chauffeured Mercedes station wagon at the School of American Ballet at Lincoln
Center, where a black-tie awards dinner was honoring legendary ballerina Maria
Tallchief and Richard S. Braddock, chairmanof Priceline.com. Ms. Kopelman, 26,
and her mother, Coco, were there as longtime S.A.B. supporters, Read More
Glenn Bernbaum must be rolling over in his grave. The snobbish, curmudgeonly owner of Mortimer’s on the Upper East Side refused to allow his restaurant to pass into his employees’ hands after his death two years ago, or even to let them use the name. So the premises have been taken over by Orsay, a Read More
Your diarist is filing this dispatch under duress. I am surrounded by chaos. I am living in confusion.
I feel somewhat like Maureen Dowd-dazed and truculent-as I survey the landscape around me, baying: “How the hell did this happen?”
At first, I thought I could trace my current state of agitation back to a Read More
July 17. Dear Diary: C’est moi , Phyllis Stine. C’est moi . Where was I? Right: I didn’t get the job as editor in chief of Harper’s Bazaar . Decided I could make a career working for Hillary Clinton’s New York Senate campaign. Helping Hillary “listen” to what constituents want because, after all, I have Read More
J uly 14 : Morning, I think. C’est moi , dear diary, c’est moi : Phyllis Stine. So confused. Did I or didn’t I miss the couture shows in Paris? Have I really been abducted by U.F.O.’s?
Now don’t be too strange, dear,” my mother always used to tell me. “Don’t be too strange, Read More
“Check out the women at table 22. They’re fabulous!” I heard one of the waiters call out to another as I walked into Fred’s, the restaurant in the basement of Barneys department store on a recent afternoon.
I didn’t have to look far. Two voluptuous young Asian women (Hawaiian perhaps, or Polynesian), one all in Read More
