Office casual

I’ve always been a great lover of fashion. I own a range of ball gowns and multicolor high tops, which can be pressed into duty as day or evening wear. I have at least four pairs of jeans, a few from recognized labels. (Well, someone would probably recognize them.) I even went to Bloomingdale's last year after watching that Oprah episode and found out my bra size. It turned out I was wearing 36B when I was actually...larger than that. Double-letter larger.

I don’t even own a mirror; that’s how confident I am of my look.

Admittedly, my sense of style is somewhat singular. I'm creative, funky. I pair pieces that the “fashion world,” as it’s called, would label a "Don't"—but then I'll wear them for weeks at a time. Who says a $200 black cocktail dress can't be worn with a lumpy blue grandma sweater, some purple Uggs, and a cape? Who says that maroon doesn't go with red? People with mirrors, I bet.

It might not be to every taste, but it has worked for me. And at least I'm not drowning in credit card debt from Tiffany's, right? (Question: Can you buy clothing at Tiffany's?)

I'm so secure in my attire, I had no problem polling a select group of friends and ex-boyfriends about my personal style (the former since I thought they'd be nice; the latter because I knew they'd be honest). A certain theme emerged in their replies: "A six-year-old told by parents she could wear whatever she wanted to school that day,” ”A sloppy vampire,” “Ketamine casual,” “Loosely laudanum-inspired,” and “Erratic” were among the descriptions.

Much as I appreciated these compliments, I could tell I needed help if I was going to continue the campaign of self improvement I began in a column months ago. Having tackled walking and eating, I was getting ambitious. My plan was to storm the barricades of the upper crust: I was going to become a socialite. And I had just the event in mind at which to start my ascent.

For several weeks, a creme-colored invitation had lay on my desk, requesting my presence at a Monday morning "Celebration of Life" ceremony for Evelyn Lauder, the late social powerhouse and cosmetics executive. Now, I have never owned an Estée Lauder product in my life—for good or for ill—but Ms. Lauder's biography has always fascinated me: a childhood escape from the Nazis, marrying the son of a makeup matriarch, earning the begrudging respect of her formidable mother-in-law by helping to turn their family business into an international success, and going on to become one of the biggest names in beauty and philanthropy.

I might be fashion "special," but even I know the meaning of the ubiquitous pink ribbon she help cook up in the early 1990s. Evelyn Lauder didn't just raise awareness for breast cancer: she took a disease that one never mentioned in polite company and helped erased the stigma, raising global awareness and millions of dollars to find a cure. There was no way I could attend an event in her honor sporting my signature "I don't give a crap, and am possibly on drugs" look.

Especially not at 10:00 a.m. on a Monday.

For assistance I turned to Mary Alice Stephenson, one of New York’s preeminent celebrity stylists, who has dressed everyone from Scarlett Johansson to Michelle Obama. Red carpet? Fashion Week runways? Vogue, Harper's Bazaar, W? It's hard to think of a venue or fasionista that Ms. Stephenson's hasn't left her signature mark on...including Estée Lauder models. It may seem a bit odd to ask someone for clothes simply because you can’t dress yourself, but apparently celebrities do it all the time.

Dress by Rachel Roy, necklace by Lanvin

On Sunday evening, Ms. Stephenson greeted me at the front door of her beautiful three-story brownstone in Cobble Hill, looking like a model herself—even in weekend sweats. "One of the reasons I agreed to do this was to honor all the good Ms. Lauder did with fashion and beauty," the gorgeous blond told me soberly, as she led me to her personal closet. "She was  such a special women who changed the world. She was so philanthropic, and really believed in the idea of paying it forward."

The rug was soft, white, and furry. Even after doffing those purple Uggs (uggggh), I was terrified of stepping on it.

"I've seen so many girls in beautiful dresses, but what makes someone special, what makes them a style icon, is what they do in life and how they help to make a difference in the world," Ms. Stephenson said while flipping through her racks of Michael Kors, Alexander Wangs, and vintage Chanels. "To me, it takes more than a pretty dress to make an 'It' Girl. Remember, I'm not dressing you so you can become a socialite. I’m dressing you to honor Ms. Lauder, and in return I'd like you to pay it forward and assist me with the Make a Wish event that I'm throwing in March."

Wow, fashion was serious business. I decided to ask Ms. Stephenson her advice on a few burning questions. "What do you do for teeth and tummy control?" I wondered. She smiled, handing over a package of Spanx and a little sample of Rembrandt teeth whitener. “It's all about your confidence and openness," Ms. Stephenson told me. "But you need to find a balance. While it's okay to be casual, sometimes it's time to say bye-bye to the hipster."

So belly in, shoulders back, and stop slouching.

"Also," she said, "your sisters need to be pushed up higher." Ms. Stephenson yanked up my bra straps. "You want to show off your curves," advised the stylist, who began her career as an editorial assistant at Vogue. "Accentuate what you like, and hide what you don't. Like show off your beautiful eyes, don't hide behind your bangs!" (Lucky for me, I had burned off half my bangs the night before while I was trying to light a cigarette.)

I needed some help with the first dress Ms. Stephenson suggested: a black Balenciaga cutaway, with a seemingly endless amount of holes through which to stick various body parts. (The dress retails at Barney's for $1,895.) We decided against it, since it would need to be altered, and Ms. Stephenson's tailor was at a friend's house uptown for the day.

Another black number—it's is my color, since it goes with everything (and hides messy spills, in my experience)—from New York Vintage was reminiscent of something Joan Holloway would wear on Mad Men. Unfortunately, it also needed to be taken in, and was thus ruled out. Styling was 10 percent inspiration, it would seem, and 90 percent sewing clothes directly onto your body.

It came down to two of Rachel Roy's volume sleeve dresses—pink and black. I settled on the darker number with the bateau neck and asymmetrical hem. The poofy shoulders weren't anything I would have picked out for myself, but then I usually wouldn't think to pair a dress with a jewel-encrusted Lanvin necklace, since before yesterday I didn't know what Lanvin was.

Then, disaster. As I was trying on a pair of bondagelike Jimmy Choo python peep-toe sandals, one of the zipper pulls broke off. I was trapped in a shoe I couldn't afford! I had a moment of panic, imagining myself walking around like a gimp with one very expensive torture shoe strapped to me for all time. Pinhead from Hellraiser was whispering through the heel, "We have such sights to show you! We'll tear your sole apart!"

Fortunately, Ms. Stephenson was a pro. Brandishing a pair of pliers and a baby pin, she quickly extracted me from the footwear. "Happens all the time, don't worry about it," she said, going on to explain the benefits of always keeping a baby pin around.

"Next time..." the Jimmy Choo hissed at me.

The final look

A buttery black Pierre Hardy bag, a camel colored Calvin Klein cape, midnight blue Bruno Frisoni stilettos (with ruffled ribbon trim), Kendall Conrad snakeskin clutch, Donna Karan ultra-sheer black tights, and Sally Hanson Plum Luck nail polish completed the look. As Ms. Stephenson tucked my loaned items into a garment bag, I wondered if I would find the nerve to actually put them on without expert assistance. There were a thousand things that could go wrong. Like my new pair of Spanx could rip open, or I could leave my whitening stuff on too long and lose my ability to chew.

Monday morning I awoke unusually bright and early (well, 8 a.m.—early for me) and tried to recreate the confidence I felt in Ms. Stephenson's walk-in glamour room. But it was dreary and overcast out, and by the time I got to Lincoln Center for the event, I had worked myself into a state of frothy agitation over the thought of tripping and breaking a heel that would cost me my monthly salary.

Luckily, no standing was necessary as we took our seats in the full auditorium. As I watched the speakers memorialize Ms. Lauder—including Mayor Bloomberg, Barbra Walters, Elizabeth Hurley, and Dr. Larry Norton from the Sloan-Kettering Breast Cancer wing which bears her name—I had a sudden realization: This wasn't about me. No one was watching to see if I looked comfortable in my control-top, or if my teeth were yellow.

In the course of the two-hour memorial, which also featured reminiscences from Ms. Lauder's two sons and four grandchildren, the word "fashion" was mentioned only twice. Instead, this larger-than-life figure was remembered for her love of food (particularly pancakes and pot roast); photography; her laugh; and the inspiration she brought to cancer survivors. We weren't there to mourn the loss of a style icon or a socialite. Sure, Ms. Lauder had a lot of wonderful friends and wore beautiful clothes with great panache, but she did so in the service of something much greater.

As a result, if she was remembered for a garment at all, it was not a gown or a cocktail dress, but a small pink ribbon with a very big impact. And lucky for me, pink goes with everything. At least in my book.

Evelyn Lauder.

The sad passing of Evelyn Lauder this week has us wearing our pink ribbons proudly (and also buying up half of Estée Lauder’s cosmetic counter at Bloomingdale’s). The cancer survivor, advocate and entrepreneur was one hell of a lady. You’d have to be to have Estée Lauder as a mother-in-law (we imagine her as the perfume magnate version of Anna Wintour’s surrogate in The Devil Wears Prada). But even a real Mommy Dearest couldn’t hold a candle this week to Patti Labelle. Page Six painted the Lady Marmalade crooner as a terror-inducing psychopath, who scared her 18-month-old so badly that young Genevieve Monk suffered “personality changes.” While we don’t doubt the righteous ire of Ms. Labelle, we also wonder how anyone can tell when a toddler has a mood shift. Does that involve more crying and rending of garments, or less?

Speaking of scary mommies, Piper Laurie—well-known for, among other things, playing the religious lunatic who pushed Sissy Spacek’s wide-eyed Carrie into murdering her entire high school with her mind—has a new memoir out. It’s called Learning to Live Out Loud, which in Ms. Laurie’s case means dishing about losing her virginity to Ronald Reagan at 18. Even creepier, it was on the set of Louisa, where the  future president played the role of her daddy. (We’re just going to go thumb through our tattered copy of Freud ... )

Of course, kids today don’t have to pull a Carrie at the prom to sufficiently alienate their parents and the rest of society; they can simply snag a spot on one of our million reality TV shows. (That said, it’d probably make for better viewing if a Snooki or Kendra Wilkinson-type developed telekinesis—think of the ratings!) And for the aspiring dead-eyed starlets and socialites among you, American Media Inc. is developing a brand new magazine catering to your fantasies of sub-prime time stardom. Reality Weekly will feature a dating column from Victoria Gotti—which we assume will tackle everyday relationship dilemmas (i.e., What to Do When Your Father Puts a Hit Out on Your Boyfriend)—as well as tips and cheat sheets for devotees of America’s guiltiest pleasure.

Which is only a bit guiltier than our other great American guilty pleasure: developing wishy washy conspiracy theories and floating them to see who’ll bite. Which is what The New York Times’s Nicholas Kristof did Tuesday when he theorized that Mayor Michael Bloomberg was secretly pro Occupy Wall Street. After all, Mr. Kristof argued, why else would he raid Zuccotti Park in the middle of the night unless he wanted more public sympathy and attention drawn to the OWS movement? We’re pretty sure he had a cheek full of tongue at the time, but one thing’s for certain: if Rudy Giuliani were still mayor, he would have been at the park on day one with the batons out, ready to bend some protesters over his knee for a personal spanking. Next to his predecessor, Mayor Bloomberg’s reticent behavior toward the seemingly unending Occupation is more June Cleaver than Father Knows Best.

But if your eyes glaze over and you start feeling feverish every time you read about protests (which may be a sign you’re getting Zuccotti Lung, the super-flu going around the tent city, so please see your doctor), the antidote could be found Friday night at Avenue in the meatpacking district, when Leonardo DiCaprio’s 37th birthday bash raised $1.3 million for his disaster relief and wildlife preservation charities. (As Estée Lauder once said, “If I believe in something I sell it, and sell it hard.”) Robert De Niro, Naomi Campbell, Bradley Cooper and Edward Norton celebrated with the J. Edgar actor, and an auctioned 15-liter bottle of Veuve Clicquot painted by artist Peter Tunney went for $50,000. We can’t help but think it would have been a little more exciting with a few Patti Labelle-inflicted “personality changes” or Carrie-at-the-prom moments—but then we’ve probably been watching too much reality TV.

Evelyn Lauder and Elizabeth Hurley (Getty Images)

What words came to mind for the people who wrote Evelyn Lauder's obituary this weekend? Cancer advocate? Certainly...the woman pioneered the pink ribbon movement, and though she passed away nongenetic ovarian cancer at 75, her life after being diagnosed in 1989 was dedicated to living with-- not dying from-- the disease.

Survivor? That too: not just of cancer, but of Nazi-occupied Austria, which she fled from as a small child.

Fashion icon and perfume entrepreneur? Without a doubt. Though her mother-in-law Estee who may have founded the company and ran it with an iron nose, Ms. Lauder brought her own touch to the Estee Lauder brand; turning the small company into one of the most successful cosmetic companies in the world.

There are a lot of other words that fit Ms. Lauder as well: Benefactor, nurse, wife, mother, patron, New Yorker. ( The last in the truest sense of the word...an immigrant from "somewhere else" who consumed the city instead of letting it consume her.) To try eulogize Ms. Lauder would be like picking adjectives out of a hat made from cut-up stories of Princess Di, Mother Teresa, and Coco Chanel. So instead, we honor her memory by bowing to the best stories told from the people who knew her.

1. Kennedy Fraser's New Yorker profile, “As Gorgeous As It Gets":

Across the table, Evelyn Lauder was talking animatedly about how Beautiful got its name. “I was the one who fought,” she was saying. “I was the one who said, ‘Let’s do it!’ And that’s a true story. I really pushed. Leonard was in the bathtub, and I took the soap and wrote ‘Beautiful’ across the mirror in that big script, like the old Revlon script.” “How do I get a sample?” Andy Warhol asked. Evelyn Lauder produced from her evening purse the refillable quarter-ounce gold perfume spray. He fumbled with the cap, then sprayed some on one hand and behind one ear. “You can keep that,” she told him.

2. David Patrick Columbia's "Another Dimension" for New York Social Diary:

Yesterday, after her death was announced, I got an email from a woman friend in Santa Barbara telling me how when she contracted a strain of leukemia a number of years ago, she called Evelyn asking for advice. Evelyn referred her to one of the best doctors in New York. My friend still has her blood checked by the same doctor. My friend never received a bill. There are scores of stories about women experiencing their first "scare" and Evelyn personally taking them to her doctors, and following up, a kind of Florence Nightingale.

3. Korva Coleman's NPR obituary:

Evelyn Lauder said she learned well before her marriage that her mother-in-law was tough; according to the New York Times (paywall), Estee Lauder "implored" Evelyn to run the birthday party for her son, Leonard, and Evelyn's eventual husband. It was only their second date, but Evelyn accepted. Evelyn said she later spoke more frankly to Estee as she worked in the family business, and credited her childhood as a refugee from the Nazis with her strength of mind.

4. Linda Wells (as told to Elizabeth Angell) for Allure's "In Memoriam":

"In the past few years, she wore a lot of Alexander McQueen, which I just loved. She saw beauty everywhere and captured it in her own landscape and still life photography. I have a photo of rocks that she took, and she made them look luminescent." Wells described how Lauder took to the dance floor during a recent industry charity event, where the Black Eyed Peas were performing. As with so many other things, Lauder led the way and others followed: "She was the first one to get up and dance in the aisles," Wells said. "She did this fantastic kind of Beyoncé move and pretty soon the rest of the room was on their feet."

5. George W. Sledge, Jr., MD on ASCO.org (American Society of Clinical Oncology):

She was sleeping when the ship carrying her from Europe sailed into New York. Her mother woke her up so that she could see the Statue of Liberty. Her powerful commitment to doing the right thing, like that of so many of her fellow refugees to our shores, contrasts ever so starkly with the evil she escaped.

Her life demonstrated what human freedom combined with innate decency could accomplish. Lady Liberty must be shedding some tears tonight for her adopted child.

So goodbye to our good friend, Evelyn Lauder, and our condolences to her husband Leonard and her children, and to her extended family at Estee Lauder who I know will mourn her passing. She defined style, but she was all about substance.

Ms. Lauder

Early Wednesday afternoon, the Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was filled with a crowd clad in Chanel summer tweed and Louboutin kitten heels. The Ladies Who Lunch crowd had turned out, in fine form, for the Women’s Forum of New York’s Elly Awards Luncheon. The women being honored -- Evelyn Lauder, Senior Vice President of the Estee Lauder Companies, and the city’s de facto first lady, Diana Taylor -- were predictable enough. Same with the award presenters: makeup entrepreneur Bobbi Brown and Citigroup bigwig Lisa Caputo.

What could possibly go wrong?

After introductions and award presentations by Ms. Brown and Ms. Caputo, the honorees sat down with Barbara Walters for a joint interview.

The conversation started off with exchanged pleasantries as Ms. Walters asked cautious, careful questions about women in government, leadership, and the many definitions of success.

And then…

“Older women should be on boards,” announced Ms. Lauder. “There’s just less hormones, less crying.”

The Observer, a good thirty years younger than the rest of the women seated in the gilded ballroom, suddenly became a little uneasy.

The shocked silence that followed Lauder’s statement was suddenly broken by a buzz of whispers. The women at the table next to The Observer gasped. “This is a disaster,” one of them murmured.

Ms. Walters quickly stepped in to remedy the situation, calming the room of furious luncheon attendees with a stern look, and continued with the interview unfazed.

The back of the room, however, was still abuzz with outraged luncheon attendees, and The Observer decided to discreetly slip out the back. As Lauder stated, younger women shouldn’t schmooze with an older crowd.

On Oct. 28, Ms. Fiori celebrated its publication between the Proenza Schouler and Zac Posen collections on the third floor of Saks, wearing a turquoise shawl. “It is my favorite island on earth,” she said. “And I have been to a lot of them. It’s sexy, it’s romantic and it will never get any bigger than it is.”

Guests included Leonard and Evelyn Lauder. The latter wore a pink Posen dress. “I love the food and the clothes and the hotels and the view and the color,” she said, of Capri.

Designer Vera Wang also made, quite literally, an appearance. In what looked like a single, fluid motion, Ms. Wang swooped behind the glass table where Ms. Fiori sat, posed for a picture or two, retreated toward the elevators and was gone.

They were there to talk about the Breast Cancer Awareness campaign of Estee Lauder Companies, where Mrs. Lauder is the senior corporate vice president and Ms. Hurley is a spokesperson. They both wore pink: Ms. Hurley a ruffled pink blouse with black trousers, and Mrs. Lauder a pink coat over a black dress and a weighty necklace made of silver-colored glass, netted and on a ribbon, by Oscar de la Renta. “A lot of things are on ribbons this year—it’s very hot,” she said later.

Right before the two were escorted outdoors for the segment, a producer approached Ms. Lauder’s publicist: “How does Ms. Lauder like to be called?”

“Mrs. Lauder,” the publicist replied.

“Mrs. Lauder,” who is 73, was born Evelyn Hauser in Vienna, from which she escaped with her parents during World War II. “It was a very dramatic story,” she told The Observer. “The ship on which we were sailing was one of three in a convoy that went the North Atlantic route, but that route had been mined by the Germans, and the first ship hit a mine and exploded, and we had to take in the survivors.”

In New York, Evelyn attended Hunter College High School and Hunter College. During her freshman year at the latter, a friend invited her to a party to meet two young men the friend had met over winter vacation in Florida. The friend wanted “Bob” to be her date, and so Evelyn would have to go with the one named Leonard. His mother Estee sold makeup; he lived on 77th Street; and he was in graduate school at Columbia.

“Leonard came to my house to pick me up on West 86th Street, he met my father and I went to this party,” Mrs. Lauder said. “When I came home, my father was waiting for me, so I thought something happened because he never waited for me. I said, ‘What happened to Mom?’ He said, ‘Nothing happened to Mom. I just wanted to tell you, that is a nice boy.’”

Mr. Lauder departed for the Navy. But he began phoning Evelyn regularly while away and asked her out for dates when he returned home on weekends. “The problem was that if you didn’t have a date by Tuesday, you were a wallflower,” she said. “So I always had a date Friday or Saturday night, so he would be my Sunday afternoon date. One time he taught me how to drive in a parking lot at Jones Beach. He had a Plymouth. I didn’t release the hand brake and I burned out the lining of his brakes!”

They married in 1959, at the Plaza in front of 150 guests. Since then, Ms. Lauder has become a philanthropist of the scale of the late Pat Buckley and Lady Astor, donating money to the Central Park Conservancy and New Yorkers for Parks, and establishing the Leonard and Evelyn Lauder Foundation with her husband. Then, after a breast cancer scare in the ’80s—she was never actually diagnosed—she shifted her efforts, raising $18 million in 1989 to open the first Evelyn H. Lauder Breast Center of Memorial Sloan-Kettering’s Cancer Center; helping to create those Pink Ribbons; and founding the Breast Cancer Research Foundation (BCRF). And earlier this month, the Lauders’ foundation gave a gift of $50 million to open the new Evelyn H. Lauder Breast Center, three times larger than the first.

AFTER THEIR  Early Show appearance, the ladies got into their red Lexus and headed to Fox’s Good Day New York, where Ms. Lauder ran into makeup artist Bobbi Brown, CEO of Bobbi Brown cosmetics, which the Lauder company bought in 1995.

“Bobbi! What are you doing here?” said Ms. Lauder, embracing her, and then turning to The Observer. “Bobbi is part of our family.”

Estee Lauder started out selling four products: all-purpose cream, creme pack, cleansing oil and skin lotion. But since Mr. Lauder joined his mother’s business, in 1958, it has grown to include the beauty brands Aramis, Bumble & Bumble, Clinique, La Mer, MAC, Origins, Tom Ford Beauty and Sean John fragrances. After Evelyn married Leonard and left her job as a schoolteacher in Harlem, she, too, joined her mother-in-law.

“She was very chic, very well dressed and had a beautiful home,” Mrs. Lauder recalled of her first meeting with Estee. “At their house on 77th Street, she had an all-white living room, from the carpeting to the silk on the couches to the draperies to the walls. I had never in my life seen an all-white living room!”

Mrs. Lauder added: “She was very welcoming. I would have never [worked for her] if she wasn’t. She said, ‘Someday this will all be yours. I’d really love you to do this with me.’”

The Lauder family members hold the majority of the stock at the public company. Mrs. Lauder’s son William is the executive chairman (son Gary is a venture capitalist based in Silicon Valley); her nieces Aerin and Jane work there; and the elder Mr. Lauder is chairman emeritus. Mrs. Lauder, meanwhile, keeps an office and two assistants, and meets weekly with the fragrance development heads. She would not disclose her salary: “I don’t even know what it is, if you really want to know the truth.”

At Fox’s studios, where Ms. Hurley changed into a different pink blouse, the ladies ran into Sopranos actor Vincent Pastore. “E. Hurley. We were in Mickey Blue Eyes together. Hello!” Ms. Hurley said to Mr. Pastore, jutting out her hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m doing world hunger,” he replied.

“We’re here for breast cancer!” Ms. Hurley said.

“Have you met Los Lonely Boys?” Mr. Pastore said, ushering over the Hispanic rock band from Texas. 

AFTER ANOTHER CREAM couch, another pink shirt from Ms. Hurley and another perky host—at LXTV—the ladies arrived at the Waldorf Astoria’s Presidential Suite. It was noon. “The fixtures in that bathroom—it’s from the ’30s!” Mrs. Lauder told Ms. Hurley and her bodyguard as she appeared from the rest room. In a vast, empty dining hall nearby, they met up with eight co-chairs (Anne Eisenhower, Arlene Taub, and Gail Hilson among them) of the upcoming BCRF luncheon to do a formal tasting and finalize the menu. Tickets are $1,600 each; $1.8 million has already been raised.

Rice-crusted halibut with long beans, shitake mushrooms, coconut sticky rice and ginger passion-fruit sauce appeared. “I think it’s a little white-looking. Can we do something about that?” Mrs. Lauder asked. The chef promptly resolved the problem with a julienne of peppers atop the coconut rice.

Next came wild king salmon and balsamic vinegar-glazed chicken. Among the topics of discussion as the ladies nibbled: Milking pregnant cows gives 11-year-old girls breast cancer; Bergdorf Goodman is empty, but the shoe department isn’t because, according to Ms. Lauder, “You can wear last year’s suit with this year’s shoes”; and, according to Ms. Taub, birth-control pills are responsible for certain strains of cancer and “are the worst thing that has ever happened to women.” Ms. Hilson disagreed: “But they gave women sexual freedom.” To which Ms. Taub retorted: “And what’s so good about that?”

Mrs. Lauder changed the subject to recent advances in reconstructive surgeries. “So are you saying that people with mastectomies can keep their own nipples now?” asked Ms. Hurley.

For dessert, they tried low-fat strawberry parfait, pistachio dacquoise, warm apple-strudel crepes and a Pavlova, which Ms. Lauder found “divine,” but which was overruled by a popular vote for the strudel.

“Do you text, Evelyn?” Ms. Hurley was now asking Mrs. Lauder.

“No. I like handwriting and I like voices,” she replied. 

“What about a BlackBerry?” one of the others asked.

“My thumbs are too fat,” the doyenne said.

Unlike Mrs. Lauder, the young socialites of today seem more concerned about making their reality TV debut than creating a philanthropic legacy. Does she think they understand the responsibility that comes with their social standing?

“I think they do,” Mrs. Lauder said. “You think of Allison Roosevelt and Tory Burch and my nieces Aerin and Jane and my son William and certainly my California son Gary are extremely philanthropic with a great deal of organizations like the Aspen Institute, the Fresh Air Fund and RDC. It is important for us to be able to network with younger people because we can’t live forever.”

After a break, The Observer met the ladies at Bloomingdale’s at 5 p.m., where they would light the department store’s facade pink. Ms. Hurley managed to bring along two brand-new pink outfits, and Mrs. Lauder, having had a chance to change, was now wearing an all-pink dress herself, and heels. Her hair had been redone and her makeup reapplied, and she was smiling her way through the room.

Ms. Hurley said this was entirely in character and recalled when the Lauders attended her wedding to Indian textile heir Arun Nayar in Jodhpur, India, in 2007. 

“They were the last people standing. It was 5 in the morning, they were in turbans and jewelry and they were up dancing to hip-hop!” Ms. Hurley said. “Evelyn has more energy than any teenager I’ve ever met. She just hits the ground and runs.”

ialeksander@observer.com

New York Social Diary reports that the evening was attended by Condé Nast's part owner Donald Newhouse and wife Susan, Oprah gal pal Gayle King, Cinema Society founder Andrew Saffir, Clive Davis, Russell Simmons, and socialites Bettina Zilkha and Diana Picasso.

Mr. Hilfiger will reportedly wed his fiancée, a former model, on August 8th of this year.

In his typically whimsical write-up, NYSC's David Patrick Columbia writes:

"Out of respect and in honor of Estée Lauder, the immediate family, unfortunately, is not able to be in attendance this evening, but Evelyn Lauder and the entire Lauder family sends their sincerest thanks," began actress Elizabeth Hurley, the mistress of ceremonies, before steering things in a cheerier direction. "You might like to know that this is the hottest party in town tonight. We've been sold out for a month!"

From there the evening, which raised $5.4 million, bifurcated into part celebration, part memorial. "I wouldn't miss the Hot Pink Party for anything!" Mayor Bloomberg told the audience, and then added, "Our prayers are with Evelyn, her family and Estée Lauder."

We caught Glamour editor Cindy Lieve on her way out, as she was heading to the Costume Institute Gala uptown. She took a moment to reflect on Estée Lauder's life. "Today the beauty industry is full of 'personalities,' and she started that. There was never a sense before her that beauty companies could be spearheaded by people who were people. She began that, and now every beauty company has a person-a face, a celebrity-but she was the first. She was a real toughie, too-and if you're a woman in business, you gotta be!"

Clad in a black pantsuit, playwright Wendy Wasserstein was all business. "I think it's more what Estée Lauder meant to women in terms of being an entrepreneur. I think she means a lot to New Yorkers as well. She was a girl from New York who did good, was right up there with Elizabeth Arden and Helena Rubenstein, and she was ours! And not only that, she makes incredible skin cream!"

After dinner, Ms. Hurley introduced Elton John ("one of the greatest men in the universe"). He took to the stage in pinstriped pants and a hot pink silk ascot, and banged out hits like "Tiny Dancer," "Benny and the Jets" and "Rocket Man." The audience collectively waved the hot pink plastic "lite cubes" in time to the music.

Then Ms. Hurley unhooked herself from her boyfriend, Arun Nayar, and scampered over to The Transom in an electric pink gown, made especially for the party by Donatella Versace. Her arms and hands glittered with jewelry from Chopard, for whom Elton John designs a collection of watches.

"Estée Lauder herself was obviously an amazing woman, and it's a big shock to the whole company that she's not with us anymore, even if she hadn't been out on the social circle for some time," said Ms. Hurley. She is the former "face" of the cosmetics company, having taken a secondary role to model Carolyn Murphy, who replaced her in 2001. She remains involved in the cancer foundation and often does public appearances with Evelyn Lauder.

"What she really represented to me was an amazingly strong woman who did astoundingly well in business when most women were still in their aprons and did the dishes," said Ms. Hurley. Lauder began her beauty dynasty in Queens, where she went by her given name, Esther Mentzer, and cooked up face creams in her kitchen. "She's an astonishing story today in that there are very few people like her, let alone women like her-she just was way ahead of her time. She was apparently one of the best salespeople in the universe-as, indeed, is her son Leonard. He's irresistible!" she giggled.

Also irresistible is Ms. Hurley's own son, Damien Charles. "He's 2 years, 2 weeks, 3-foot," she said proudly. "He can speak, he can have tantrums-he's astonishing. He's at the 'Mommy, don't goooo!' stage every time I have to leave the room. It's horrible! I'm told the second he hears the door close, it stops, but I fall for it at least 20 times saying, 'O.K., then, one more kiss!' It's sad, but it's fabulous."

Words, indeed, that perfectly captured the mood of the night.

-Noelle Hancock

Waiting for the Donald

Donald Trump and his hair were late to his book signing, but his fans didn't seem to care.

"Donald! Donald!" they chanted as he strode into the Borders near Wall Street. He struck poses in the doorway before riding the escalator to the second floor, waving like Miss America. The line of people waiting to meet him spanned two stories, and inched along slowly. There were all types, each with their own reasons for loving the Donald.

"We're here because he's here," said Fran Foley, a fiftysomething woman from Long Island who was waiting on the third floor with her friend Joanne Martell. They were holding copies of How to Get Rich, a book packed with career advice such as "Play Golf" and "Get a Great Assistant."

"I like the fact that he was down in the dumps, financially in trouble, and he pulled himself back from the brink. You have to admire a man with that kind of stamina," said Ms. Martell. "And I want a chance to look at that baby face, and see if it really is as baby as it comes across, and check out his hair! You know, he was on Larry King, and Larry actually touched it and pulled it and everything, you know, to say that it was real. But it is weird. It looks like underneath the top layers there's something else going on on that scalp of his, and he tries to cover it over."

Bill Vergakis, a burly man with a goatee, muscle T-shirt and leather fanny pack, had come from Hoboken.

"I've seen Donald Trump plenty of times before, 'cause I'm an actor, an extra. And I've been an extra in a movie where he had a cameo," said Mr. Vergakis. "He's a nice guy. I mean, I've talked to him before. You wouldn't expect it from somebody who's, like, a millionaire. So many of them are snotty, they don't want to be bothered. He's like a real down-to-earth type of guy." Mr. Vergakis suddenly looked wistful. "Who knows, maybe next year, by this time, I'll be here signing books," he said.

"I'm in real estate myself," added Ray Wein, an owner and operator of "historical properties" in Pennsylvania. "I left my business to come up and meet him today. He makes decisions, and moves forward and doesn't second-guess himself, and I'm trying to be more like that in my business."

Three women from Texas had been waiting about an hour.

"He talks about his hair in the book," said Anne Shrader, with a slight drawl. "That's what I respect about him, 'cause I don't like his hair, but it doesn't matter to him. It's like Emerson would say, he's not concerned about the good opinion of others."

"He's a different thinker. And we needed some good news! Business had a black eye, especially in Houston, cause of Enron, and Dynegy," said Linda Mikeska. "Plus, I'm of Czech descent, and when he married Ivana and all, that's what really got me pumped up!"

Then there was Mervin Abdool, a slight fellow in a neat blue dress shirt.

"I'm here because I collect signed books," he said, underwhelmed. "I'm a really big Stephen King fan."

-Sheelah Kolhatkar

Black and White Forever

Truman Capote's Black and White ball in 1966 is often called "the party of the century" but how much fun could it really have been? The whole thing cost a measly $16,000. Norman Mailer tried to take it outside with McGeorge Bundy but had to settle with trading insults with Lillian Hellman. Lauren Bacall cut the rug with Jerome Robbins. The dance floor cleared. Arthur Schlesinger Jr. tried to cut in to no avail.

What else happened? The creepy, two-faced host skipped around asking everyone "aren't we having a wonderful time?"-not a good sign. Frank Sinatra left early and hit a bar. Nevertheless, the clearly overrated party lives on.

On April 22, 2004, over 700 young literature enthusiasts-the Young Lions of the New York Public Library-put on black tie, white dresses and masks in homage to Capote's silly snobfest. At 9:30 they began to file into the library's Astor Room for disco hits and heavy drinking. Actor Chris Noth stood by the bar talking literature.

"It gave you a sense of a time and war that in some ways was politically reminiscent of what's happening today," he said of William Prochnau's Once Upon a Distant War, before adding that the war in Iraq is "deplorable, a disaster and a big political scam."

He was asked for the worst writing from the past century.

"What the fuck was that book, oh wait a minute, it was a pseudo-spiritual book?"

Celestine Prophecy?

"Yes! I read a page of that and threw it in the fireplace. But I love Ms. Bushnell's work."

"I love Chris Noth's work," said Sex and the City author Candace Bushnell, throwing her arms around HBO's "Mr. Big."

She named Tolstoy as the writer who filled her with a sense of awe.

"What a snooty reply," Mr. Noth said.

"No, if you want to know anything about relationships, read Anna Karenina."

What writers have made them weep?

"Yeats," he said, before slurring the following line: "Take down this book and softly read how one man loved the … something."

"This is what makes me cry: Chris Noth reading poetry," Ms. Bushnell said.

Later, Mr. Noth was talking about acid. "It's a better drug than any other drug," he said. "I believe that it has spiritual properties. I think the drugs today, they're fucking violent and awful and have no redeeming spiritual values. And we're living in a cultural boneyard. I suggest that you find a loved one and take half a tab."

"Yes!" Ms. Bushnell said.

"Don't do cocaine, that's a terrible drug," he continued. "But you can do some peyote too." But he lit up at the mention of mushrooms and said to "call my agent" if any could ever be made available.

Techno-celebrity Moby was sitting nearby and fondly recalled an LSD trip from his college days. "I'll never look at marble the same way," Moby said. "The veins in marble, it's frozen motion but when you're on acid it's unfrozen. Suddenly you see fluidity."

He liked the idea of a benefit party for the New York Public Library with controlled substances. After all, theme nights in recent years have included "the Candy Colored 60's", "Alice in Wonderland" and "The Beat Generation: A Literary Happening."

"If this party went until 7 in the morning and everyone took ecstasy, it would be the party sublime," Moby said. "It's funny because I smoked pot a couple weeks ago, and I don't smoke a lot of pot, but pot in the last 20 years has become so strong that it's essentially kind of like smoking acid."

Moby looked around and agreed that no one there would remember the party 40 years from now. "Everyone should go home and have wonderful love and drug-fueled sex," he said.

-George Gurley