Last night, at what is widely hyped as the best night in New York fashion, the attendees of the annual gala benefit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art's Costume Institute did not disappoint. Patterns, we saw a few: a lot of black, a lot of neon, a lot of feathers, and a lot of sheer. And Beyonce's dress? We still don't know what to think. See our picks for best and most bewildering are in this slideshow, and read our rundown from the red carpet here.

Don’t mess with Alexander Wang. This message was more than clear. KCD guarded their most sought-after invite with a check-in process worthy of the North Korean border. Street photography happened 20 yards from entry gates. Photo I.D. required.

Once inside Pier 94, we discovered a smoky hall of mirrors. Sure enough, the entire fashion world was present to take in the spectacle. Varsity Voguettes, Carine Roitfeld avec sa fille, Terry Richardson, model Liya Kebede, Paris Vogues’ Emmanuelle Alt, Shala Monroque, Garance Doré, Zoe Kravitz… this could take all year!

A closer look at the program smelled even more of recently-earned success; reaffirming Wang’s domination of Fashion Week (beware Marc Jacobs!): Interview’s Karl Templer styling, Guido Palau on hair; Anja Rubik slated to walk in a black Nappa-backed shearling hoodie and crêpe pant with bonded leather panel... Has Wang gone kinky and street? we wondered.

“Who the hell is that?” we asked Refinery29’s Annie Georgia Greenberg.

“Die Antwoord [Ninja and Yo-Landi Visser]!” She yelled. “… South African… They’re in the new ad campaign.”

“The one in the golden hoodie looks like an alien,” The Observer grimaced.

Frederic Sanchez’s booming soundtrack gave the impression that we were under attack. It’s not just Mr. Wu that has warriors—Wang has a masked army too!

Techno fabrics, fishnet knits, and vinyl placket-embellished outwear were severely structured. Move out of Wang’s way!

The Observer would commit a felony to score a pair of Daga’s ion laminated panel trompe-l'œil pants; or Abby Lee’s peroxide smocked leather tank dress and black Kolfinna boots! Pony up quick! They’ll sell out for sure.

After 31 impressively haunting looks, the program read: “PLEASE STAY SEATED…”

That’s a first.

Another tempest began (cue Sanchez): Alexander Wang then sent out an additional dozen or so looks on a cast of models that had us hurling obscenities in disbelief!

“Was that Giselle? That was Gisele Bündchen!” Screeched Carly Leach, also in section A.

“Are you sure? Well that’s definitely Joan Smalls and Karolína Kurková,” The Observer replied.

Confirmed. The biggest names in modeling were now masked, in stunning Wang urban couture, facing individual mirrors. They collectively unmasked before filing out.

Had a new King of New York fashion been crowned?

Wang bounced through the haze to take an enthusiastic bow, leaving us all to debate. We say yup—“All hail Wang!”

"I have worn Alexander McQueen," remembered Sandra Lee. She'd arrived prior to Ms. Wintour, and wore creamy beaded Carmen Marc Valvo with curious sheer gloves. "I had a beautiful coat in white-I bought it in France, and when I got home I was like, Oh my God." Ms. Lee's ecru-on-ecru apartment, as photographed in Vogue, tipped us off that the lady loves white. "I do."

Longtime McQueen friend Daphne Guinness looked a bit peaked as she staggered up the steps in monumental McQueen heels and a feathered dress designed by Sarah Burton (the McQueen designer known for dressing a certain Duchess). Who was she looking forward to meeting tonight? "I'm just-" she intoned, breathless, "happy to be here."

After the light beige of Ms. Guinness and the cream of Ms. Lee, the pop of color Margherita Missoni provided was welcome-she arrived in a rainbow of rainbow knitwear. Our eyes popped even further upon seeing her pal Joy Bryant in a day-glo pink-and-orange sweater-over-gown. "Dear Joy is a friend of mine," said Ms. Missoni, perhaps explaining Ms. Bryant's fashion choice. "I always like to go to formal events with friends." Why was Ms. Bryant in a sweater? "Because it's comfortable!" the actress yelled. (Better reasoning, perhaps, than that of Gwyneth Paltrow, who told The Observer of her very backless, ultra-beige dress: "[Stella McCartney] just put me in it!")

Kanye West stood guard at the door, though he was not a co-host, greeting all of the guests and reserving special excitement for Christopher Bailey, creative director of Burberry. Dakota and Elle Fanning stood nearby, the elder Ms. Fanning looking nervous, the younger looking utterly in her element.

A true rule-breaker followed, in modified menswear-Vogue Japan Editor-at-Large Anna Dello Russo, in a Sarah Burton for Alexander McQueen black suit with gold accents. She wore a glittering ostrich egg as a hat. She recalled the McQueen days: "He had so much creativity-it was a romantic era to me." Romantic, sure-but why the egg? "Eggs is because it is Easter time. Right after Easter, I chose eggs." 

There was a long lull after Anna. Taylor Swift spoke to a few TV cameras, but skittered away in the middle of an interview and ran inside. The actor Joshua Jackson may provide some insight as to what was so horrible about being interviewed-after his girlfriend, actress and muse Diane Kruger (in-mercy-gold and black), was interviewed, Mr. Jackson declared, "I love that their questions are McQueen, and the royal wedding. Those are the priorities." Ms. Kruger and her other date, the designer Jason Wu, both laughed. Of course, a fashion crowd is a bit of an echo chamber: Barbara Walters, in luminous green Oscar de la Renta on the arm of Charlie Rose, told The Observer, "I don't think I'll discuss Osama bin Laden tonight. This is a celebration of a different sort."

Karl Lagerfeld was not in the mood to celebrate. When we asked about his floral jacket, he replied: "Why not? Tom Ford made it floral. This is not a funeral. They had their time for that in London. This is about fashion." But he must miss Alexander McQueen. "I don't miss anyone. You are not there to cry about the past. You are there for the future. It's cruel, but that's the way it is."

Suddenly, the evening had come down to its last few big stars-there was Rihanna! There was Renée Zellweger! (The former in black and the latter in gold.) Beyoncé was duly booed by photographers for blocking their angles, as she needed an assistant to help her walk in her tight, tight black-and-gold Pucci. The evening concluded, after the red carpet emptied out, with Madonna. Whether it was her starry presence or the unexpected sight, finally, of real color-a vibrant teal Stella McCartney with silver accents-we were moved to ask her why she chose it. "It matches my eyes!" she grinned.

ddaddario@observer.com :: @DPD_

Edited by Daisy Prince

Click here for photos from the Met's Costume Institute Gala.

The Journal reports that Brady's three-bedroom, 3.5-bath, pentagonal apartment in the complex's north tower has just gone into contract. Should the sale go through,  Brady and his supermodel wife Gisele Bundchen will have separated almost all their ties with the city, the paper notes, as she has sold two downtown properties recently, a townhouse and a penthouse, both in the West Village.

Brady's northeastern-facing skybox covers 3,000 square feet, and while he never lived there, it sounds, from broker Raphael DeNiro's description, as though Brady may have a little bit of Broadway Joe's old flash in him, at least when it comes to interior decorating:

Highlighting this home are all new black lacquered doors, beautiful ebony finished walnut wood floors, Venetian plastering & custom hand-painted wallpaper gracing each of the opulent baths. [...] Complementing this sophisticated space are custom built-ins throughout, a top of the line kitchen, custom zebra wood paneling/shelving in the oversized masterbdrm, which features 2 huge walk-in closets and a sumptuous ensuite marble bath.

Brady has expressed his loathing for New York, or at least the Jets, on numerous occasions, so it was only a matter of time before he hit the showers. The price has yet to be revealed, but the unit had been asking $18.5 million, after Brady paid $14 million for the spread in 2006. Here's hoping he was sacked for a loss.

mchaban [at] observer.com | @mc_nyo

She was accompanied by her daughter, Bee Shaffer, in floor-length, ivory Balenciaga covered with gleaming black beads. Asked what she would get Ms. Wintour for Mother’s Day, Ms. Shaffer looked puzzled and said: “Flowers?”

The Avatar actress Zoe Saldana came solo, in a one-sleeved black sheath whose tactile pattern of raised dots suggested Braille. Asked how she would be celebrating Mother’s Day, Ms. Saldana replied over her bare shoulder, “Calvin.”

Event co-chair Oprah Winfrey arrived with alliterative date Oscar de la Renta, who said of Ms. Winfrey’s bespoke plunging neckline and cascade of navy ruffles, which he’d created: “It is very romantic.  … Lots of ruffles, lots of cleavage—a real dress for a real woman.”

Another woman escorted by the designer outfitting her was the model Amber Valletta, in azure RM by Roland Mouret. Of the difference between American and French women, Mr. Mouret told the Transom, “Les Americaines sont plus ‘groomed.’” Yes: We bathe—and shave! Also Zoe Kazan, in and with Peter Som. “New York is a microcosm of America,” Ms. Kazan proclaimed.

“There are so many different types of people here, I think it’s just a more concentrated version of the rest of the country.”

Sultry actress Eva Mendes wore a figure-sculpting Dolce and Gabbana fishtail gown patterned with oversize roses—only she could make Laura Ashley florals so sexy; while Up in the Air enchantress Vera Farmiga needed only a bonnet and a staff to complete her periwinkle, Little Bo Peepish Sophie Theallet for Gap gown.

“She’s not talking,” Gwen Stefani’s publicist told the press, but the singer’s dress, a L.A.M.B. design with tulle top over a black bra, accessorized with perky ponytail and hubby Gavin Rossdale, spoke volumes.

Sex and the City star Sarah Jessica Parker predictably donned glimmering apricot Halston Heritage (she is the creative consultant for the brand). Arranging her pleated skirt for photos, Ms. Parker’s BlackBerry fell out of some unknown hiding place onto the red carpet. She shrugged.

Aussie actor Hugh Jackman, perspiring due to the humidity, arrived with wife Deborah Lee Furness. Asked the difference between the Australian woman and the American woman, he told the Transom coyly: “Ooooh, what time is this airing?”

We moved on to Brooke Shields, in neck-to-toe gold matte sequins, on the arm of Michael Kors, who did not remove his dark-tinted aviator sunglasses. Of the difference between the American woman and the New York woman, Ms. Shields told the Transom, “Oh, boy, that’s a hard one! I think of New York as a melting pot.” Mr. Kors elaborated: “New York is a mixture of all of America. It’s just in New York, we do it faster!”

Iman, regal in Prada, answered the Transom, enigmatically: “Sportswear,” and floated along.

“She typifies the American woman,” said Calvin Klein, arriving with Carolina Herrera, of the New Yorkeress. “She is the American woman.”

Mr. Klein embraced Karl Lagerfeld, shots of whom were being blocked by actress Elizabeth Banks, prompting photographers to scream furiously.

Food personality Padma Lakshmi wore a busty, feathered Roberto Cavalli frock and told the Transom giddily that she would be spending Mother’s Day “with my baby, my cute baby!”

Another mom, Mariska Hargitay, was in Vera Wang. “No Spanx tonight!” she told a reporter. “I’m very proud.”

More: Stella McCartney ascended the stairs flanked by her faithful cohorts Liv Tyler and Kate Hudson; the answer to the question of Ms. Hudson’s rumored bosom enhancement obscured by a nude-colored side-slit number.

Jimmy Choo creator Tamara Mellon wore a white Versace number with circular and oval cut-outs that made her look like a piece of Swiss cheese. Her accessory for the evening, in addition to her shoes, was baby-blue–blazered Usher, wearing Tom Ford. What’s the difference between the New York woman and the American woman? “Attitude,” he said.

Around 7:45 p.m. was the power hour: a celebrity bottleneck reminiscent of the 405 freeway. Demi Moore, ageless in gold Lanvin; Jessica Biel, gorgeous in Ralph Lauren’s backless ivory satin, and cuddling with Justin Timberlake; and Marion Cotillard, overheated in long-sleeved glimmering Dior and fanning her face in a gesture exaggerated for the press.

Everyone cleared the red sea for Janet Jackson, who was a study in dis-symmetry—she wore one black leather glove and one of her protruding breasts looked distinctly larger than the other. Elsewhere in bust news, Mad Men’s January Jones—the guest of YSL’s Stefano Pilati—wore a short fuchsia shift with curling black braiding and slicked-back hair, more Jetson than Draper.

Tom Brady kept trying to touch his svelte wife during photos, his hand lightly resting on her barely covered bottom. Gisele Bundchen wore a custom-made Alexander Wang mini in woven black leather. “Is it covering me?” she asked. “I keep checking to make sure it is covering everything.”

What is the difference between the Brazilian woman and the American woman?

“I think Brazilian women, we are more voluptuous,” Ms. Bundchen replied in her husky purr.

Diane Sawyer and husband Mike Nichols arrived around 8, Ms. Sawyer in Michael Kors, fresh off interviewing Mayor Bloomberg on the evening news. “I see you’re wearing Louboutins,” one reporter noted.

“I am?” Ms. Sawyer said good-naturedly. “Thank you for telling me! I actually didn’t know!”

Asked his opinion on American women versus New York women, Mr. Nichols told the Transom, “I only know the New York woman.”

P. Diddy emerged from a silver Bentley jacketless, while his valet squirreled his coat off its hanger in the back of the car. Helping his boss slip the jacket on with one hand, he deftly choreographed a lint roller over the back of the jacket as a final precaution. With an oversize bow tie and oversize sunglasses, Mr.

Diddy told a nearby journalist, “Tonight is about the two queens, Anna and Oprah. It’s their night.”

What does Mr. Combs think is the difference between the New York woman and the American woman?

“Ah, man,” he said through his platinum grill. “I don’t know.”

SLIDESHOW: Irina Aleksander picks her favorite looks from the Met Ball >

cmalle@observer.com

After all, the themes of years past--“Superheroes” in 2008 and “The Model as Muse” in 2009--resulted in numerous disasters, including lamé turbons (Kate Moss), strange lighting strike patterns (Lake Bell), thigh high boots (Madonna) and inappropriate cleavage and leggage (Blake Lively). Judging from this year’s looks, the famous ladies have wised up and classed it up. Truthfully, the disasters were far fewer than we’ve seen in the past.

Stay tuned for a full red carpet report from Chloe Malle, but for now enjoy a slideshow of our favorite looks from last night. 

The trend continues. Her Barrow Street townhouse was listed Thursday by Raphael De Niro, the actor's son, for $13.95 million. "Description and floor plan coming soon," the listing said, though a floor plan was included along with two shots of the exterior and a garden. "I absolutely cannot and will not discuss that listing," Mr. De Niro told The Observer Thursday afternoon.

Within an hour after that call, and one to Ms. Bündchen's agent, the listing was taken offline.

According to city records, a limited liability corporation named Casa Vida spent $5.8 million on the house in 2005, which means the supermodel is hoping to make a nice profit on the sale. Ms. Bündchen is named on renovation permits.

Vida is the name of her dog. "Vida, Vida, Vida," she said in this May's Vanity Fair cover story. "'Vida' means life; she’s the golden girl—that’s why I call her Golden. She loves the bone. She deserves a little bone!" In the story, she hands Vida a lamb chop and says, "Vida, let’s make a deal: I’ll give you a bone every day—you live forever!"

Update: Both listings are back up! Barrow at $13.95 million, West 11th at $4.5 million.

mabelson@observer.com

Vanity Fair and Harper’s Bazaar each put Brazilian supermodel Gisele Bundchen on covers this year, and both promptly had their worst-selling issues off the newsstand in 2009.

The May Vanity Fair, which featured a bare-bodied Gisele standing sideways with a come-hither look, sold only 280,000 single sale copies, the lowest total for the magazine in nearly two years, according to the Audit Bureau of Circulations Rapid Report. Harper’s Bazaar’s April issue, meanwhile, sold only 132,000 copies, its lowest total of the year and its lowest since November 2008, when Drew Barrymore was on the cover. Harper’s Bazaar has averaged about 155,000 single copy sales this year, and Vanity Fair has averaged 342,000.

"It might be that she's losing her looks," quipped Vanity Fair spokeswoman Beth Kseniak.

Considering the number of covers that Gisele Bundchen has graced this year—including the July issue of German Glamour and German Elle—magazine publishers and editors are crossing their fingers that she has more appeal overseas.

Ms. Kseniak also pointed out that when Gisele graced the Vanity Fair cover in September 2007, it was the third-biggest seller that year.

One industry source said that some newsstand sales were affected in earlier this year after Anderson News, a major distributor, suspended its business operations, though publishers feel that all distribution problems have been ironed out.

Molly Sims called her elaborate gold Dolce & Gabbana minidress “fashion-forward, taking a chance, shorter than short, short, short.” She was also wearing a necklace by jeweler-of-the-moment Tom Binns. “I kinda push fashion tonight!”

“We’ve gotten our due for a long time,” she demurred when asked whether it was nice to be the center of attention for once. “But it’s nice.”

Short was the order of the evening: One of the last standing supermodels, Kate Moss, had arrived 35 minutes in advance of the start time on the arm of honorary gala chair Marc Jacobs, clad in a miniscule gold toga and matching turban.

Mr. Jacobs was uncharacteristically buttoned-up in tuxedo and slicked-back hair; he placed his hand stiffly on Ms. Moss’ back and the duo posed for a few photos before exchanging whispers and rushing past crushed television crews to the entrance atop the stairs. (Mr. Jacobs’ fiancé, advertising executive Lorenzo Martone, would later arrive on the arm of Posh Spice.)

Vogue editor at large André Leon Talley, resplendent in an Isabel Toledo cape, was more voluble: “I gave a lot of advice to a lot of people, but they shall remain nameless because they don’t want me to say who I’m giving advice to,” he was telling a reporter nearby. (Last year, he’d dressed Venus Williams).

Russell Simmons looked on admiringly. “I once sat with André Leon Talley,” he said. “He’s the host of the event”—actually, it’s his boss, Anna Wintour—“he’s the inspiration for the whole thing, he’s got such good taste and everyone looks to him; he’s like fashion royalty, isn’t he?”

Mr. Talley was now telling a photographer who asked him to back up for a photo to “just take Obama!”, slapping an Obama button he’d pinned to his massive gold heart chain Roger Vivier necklace. “I had a good time,” he told The Observer of last year’s gala. “We went to the after-party, Venus and I, and Kimora [Lee Simmons] and Karl [Lagerfeld]; we had a fabulous time, it was at some restaurant, Phillipe …”

He declined to comment on how he planned to potentially get Mr. Obama to the ball in the future: “Ask Anna Wintour! I don’t answer those kind of questions, I have a mortgage to pay!”

Co-host Justin Timberlake appeared on the carpet in nerdy glasses with a Versace-clad Jessica Biel on his arm, and the photographers’ chorus of shouts reached a high pitch (rivaled only by the one greeting Posh Spice soon after, and, much later, Madonna).

Then came the moguls: Harvey, Donald, Rupert.

“How are you, my little beauty, are you still married?” Mr. Trump was asking a petite blond Fox News reporter as wife Melania posed for pictures down the carpet.

“I’ve been here many times, yes,” he told The Observer. “You just meet a lot of great people.” Who did he want to meet tonight? “I hadn’t thought about it, ask me after dinner!” Would that we were invited to dinner, sir!

The carpet was filling up with ethereal, slow-moving Russian and Eastern European mannequins, most wearing smoky eyeliner and messy hair and clutching the nerdy-looking young fashion designers who’d designed their outfits.

“She was lovely enough and gracious enough to ask me to be her date,” said designer Richard Chai of the Amazonian Karolina Kurkova, standing to his right in a, yes, short blue dress he’d designed. “I’ve known Karolina since she first came to New York, when she was 16, and I was the director at Marc Jacobs, so it’s an ironic sort of full-circle moment for us, that Marc’s hosting it. She came in for a casting and we took her for the show, and she was the same exact person then as she is now.”

In the car, bracing themselves for flashbulb impact before braving the carpet, they’d discussed “absolutely nothing about fashion,” he said. “Just what have we been up to, what are we doing, where are we going afterwards” (to Mr. Jacobs’ party at Monkey Bar and then to knitwear heiress Margherita Missoni’s bash at 1Oak).

Soft-spoken Michelle Obama clothier Jason Wu, meanwhile, making his Met debut after exploding from obscurity into household-name-dom in the past year, described how he went about getting a date with Jessica Alba. “We met each other last year, we were at a photo shoot. It was really great,” he said. “So when it came to the Met, I was like, ‘You know what? I’m going to ask Jessica.’ We’d seen each other a couple more times, and when it came to this event, I thought, ‘Well, Jessica would be the perfect muse.’ She’s really down to earth. These things can be daunting at times.”

Hey! There was Cheryl Tiegs, wearing a blue sequined, actually floor-grazing vintage Norman Norrell. “When I was starting out, nobody really knew who models were or what they were doing or whatever; they certainly didn’t know my name,” she said. “Today, I think girls are much more recognizable, and that puts more pressure on them. They get more money, it’s a bigger production. But there is no right or wrong, good or bad. When I started out, it was simpler.”

Nonetheless: “It was a thrill,” Ms. Tiegs sighed. “I love my Vogue covers. They’re some of my favorites.” 

Dominant fashion trends in evidence to this point included braids on the head—like those stacked on the noggin of Tyra Banks, resembling nothing so much as a shiny bird’s nest—and jumpsuits, like the ones encasing Jimmy Choo founder Tamara Mellon (Halston), model and Andy Roddick better-half Brooklyn Decker (Derek Lam) and Stella McCartney (her own).

British Rag & Bone designer Marcus Wainwright was squiring actress Lake Bell, wearing a tight black Rag & Bone pantsuit and side-leaning top hat, up the carpet. “It was her idea to wear a suit,” he said. “This is traditionally a very dress-oriented thing, and she was like, ‘Yeah, I want to wear a suit!’

“It’s quite an overwhelming evening; there’s a lot of people you read about a lot,” he continued. “I met Karl Lagerfeld last year, which was pretty fun. I said, ‘That’s a nice jacket,’ and he just goes”—Mr. Wainwright lowered his voice to a throaty whisper—“‘Chanel Homme.’ And that’s it. That was the end of our conversation.”

Tonight he would sit with countryman and Topshop chief Sir Philip Green, whom he’d never met, but who had presumably purchased a table at this very New York party to honor his new New York store. “It should be fun!” Mr. Wainwright said, almost giddy.

Suddenly, newlywed Gisele Bundchen appeared, toting Tom Brady and wearing Versace again. And even less of it than last year! A few blue sequins covered her torso, stopping short of her legs.

Donatella Versace appeared soon after to take responsibility for this. “Once you dress Gisele, what is left?” she said in her thick Italian accent.

An Olsen twin had taken the alternative route, appearing in what looked to be a white sheet, the kind children wear on Halloween (it was from the twins' label, the Row).

Actress Emmy Rossum tried to put in perspective what the famous people might be feeling at this chaotic moment: “A, why does it always rain, and B, don’t trip! If you trip, you just roll down, and down, and down …” She gestured at the long distance from whence she’d come from her Town Car.

Then it was actress Diane Kruger (arriving with boyfriend Pacey, er, Joshua Jackson), in a white, wedding-cake-looking Chanel—“It was a one-time wonder, it fit perfectly without having to do anything to it! But I did my own makeup, so it took me a little longer to get ready than usual, maybe an hour and a half,” she said.

Socialite Fabiola Beracasa was also in Chanel Couture, but longer and more ornate; she’d flown to Paris to pick it out. “It’s ridiculous,” she’d told The Observer before the event. “I’m so happy with my dress, and I think it’s beautiful, and it’s so fun just to go. I could be sitting in the bathroom and it’s cool. Actually, the bathroom is where it all happens, to be honest! The bathroom is where everybody goes to smoke, and you run into, like—I have run into everybody from J. Lo to Jessica Simpson in that bathroom. I remember really distinctly Jessica Simpson in that Roberto Cavalli dress that was beaded and down to there, and up close it was a lot to take in. …”

Late-night talk show host Jimmy Fallon, meanwhile, was gamely working the carpet nearby with wife Nancy Juvonen. “This is like a normal night out for us, this is not a big deal!” he shrieked. “This is like, I mean, to us this is not a big deal. We always have a red carpet, we always wear tuxedos and designer dresses …”

“It’s actually really fun,” piped in Nancy, more seriously.

“It’s a really good party inside,” agreed Mr. Fallon. “There’s always a surprise musical thing, a Broadway show or something fun. … Anytime I can legally drink in a museum, I always agree to the invitation!”

Almost two hours after Mr. Jacobs and Ms. Moss had arrived, a shout rose from the paparazzi. It grew to hysteria. Vamping on the almost-deserted steps below were Madonna and Jesus (Luz, her boyfriend). The Material Girl wore Louis Vuitton, short and puffy, with leather boots encasing her thighs and two antennalike blue feathers sprouting from her head. Jesus appeared to be the shy type: She yanked him toward the photographers and wrapped her arms around him seductively, while he offered a tentative wave.

The duo encountered the Seinfelds, still making their way up the carpet. Madge dragged Jessica over to the photographers; Jerry stood in the middle of the carpet in glasses, hands folded awkwardly, looking bewildered, not appearing to exchange words with Jesus.

And then the famous carpet went quiet.

Inside, guests were treated to a surprise performance by Kanye West and Rihanna, who wore a Dolce & Gabbana pantsuit.

(The bathrooms, as predicted, were stuffed throughout dinner by nicotine-addled partygoers: One guest reported seeing Josh Hartnett and John Galliano in the ladies’ room puffing away with a clutch of models—“because nobody eats!”)

Most attendees then retired to Mr. Jacobs’ aforementioned party at the Monkey Bar, and then to late-night fetes hosted by Ms. Missoni (1Oak) or the Rodarte designers (SubMercer), or to Bungalow 8.

One spy reported that earlier, leaving the Met, she’d witnessed an “icy” encounter between two of the evening’s more recognizable models: Ms. Bundchen and Bar Refaeli, the Sports Illustrated cover girl and current flame of Ms. Bundchen’s ex, Leonardo DiCaprio. “They both looked away when they walked right next to each other. Then, “literally, I swear, Bar checked her out a thousand times up and down.”

mbryan@observer.com