Full release after the jump.

TWO NEW HIRES AT GOOD HOUSEKEEPING
-- SARA LYLE NAMED LIFESTYLE EDITOR --
-- ALYSSA KOLSKY HERTZIG NAMED BEAUTY EDITOR --

NEW YORK (April 2, 2007) - Good Housekeeping Editor-in-Chief Rosemary Ellis has announced two new hires to the editorial staff. Sara Lyle is joining Good Housekeeping from Jane Magazine as the new lifestyle editor and Alyssa Kolsky Hertzig, formerly at Lucky, has been named beauty editor.

"I'm thrilled to welcome Sara and Alyssa to the Good Housekeeping team," said Ellis. "Their talents and experience will help us deliver more of the trusted, relevant information our 25 million readers are looking for."

Lyle, who joins the magazine on April 2, served as a senior editor at Jane Magazine since October 2005. In that role, she was primarily responsible for the magazine's "Life" and "Home" sections. She also regularly contributed to the magazine's blog. Prior to that, she was a senior editor at Budget Living, where she edited the popular "Loose Change" section (a 2004 National Magazine Award winner). Earlier in her career, Lyle worked for YM magazine, where she was promoted from associate editor to senior editor in 2003.

Kolsky Hertzig joined Good Housekeeping on February 20. Prior to becoming the associate beauty editor at Lucky magazine, she was beauty editor for both Vitals Man and Vitals Woman. Earlier in her career, she served as assistant beauty editor at Harper's Bazaar, worked as an entertainment reporter in Los Angeles, and interned for Time magazine in Hong Kong.

Founded in 1885, Good Housekeeping magazine reaches 25 million readers each month. In addition to the print title, there is also The Good Housekeeping Research Institute, the consumer product evaluation laboratory of Good Housekeeping magazine. Founded in 1900 and continuing today with the same mission, the Research Institute is dedicated to improving the lives of consumers and their families through education and product evaluation. Only products evaluated by the Good Housekeeping Research Institute can be accepted for advertising in the magazine, and thereby become eligible to display the Good Housekeeping Seal, the hallmark that provides assurance to readers that the products advertised in the magazine are backed by a two-year limited warranty against being defective, with specified exceptions.

Hearst Magazines is a unit of Hearst Corporation (www.hearst.com) and one of the world's largest publishers of monthly magazines, with a total of 19 U.S. titles and nearly 200 international editions. Hearst reaches more adults than any other publisher of monthly magazines (73.4 million according to MRI, fall 2006). The company also publishes 20 magazines in the United Kingdom through its wholly owned subsidiary, The National Magazine Company Limited.

Do you really want to Hearst me? Tonight's book parties are all secretly masterminded by Hearst, the stodgy, vaguely Midwestern media conglomerate that owns such scintillating titles as Good Housekeeping and Talk (quietly, desperately morphing into a soft-porn magazine). First up, Victoria the rag for women in their 40's who buy eyelet petticoats off eBay and have three and a half cats , not that there's anything wrong with that co-hosts a bash for Designers in Residence: The Personal Style of Top Women Decorators and Designers. Bonus excerpt regarding lady-decorator Charlotte Moss' design philosophy: "She likes to leave books open on the Ottoman she uses as a coffee table. 'Whenever you fluff your pillows, turn to another page,' says Charlotte." Genius ! (Send your shabby-chic boyfriend who likes to garden.) Meanwhile, Cosmopolitan 's spunky editor in chief, Kate White, throws a cocktail party at her Upper East Side pad for Cosmo senior books editor John Searles (see vaguely Michael J. Fox esque photo), who has and here's a shocker ! written a novel of his own, Boy Still Missing . Frank McCourt compares him to J.D. Salinger, but we don't think Mr. Searles is living in New Hampshire and eating bark. Bonus dirty excerpt: She was "smooshing her t*ts together so they grew even larger." Conspiracy theorists take note : Heather Graham did the very same thing on the cover of Talk ! Who says synergy is dead?

[Designers in Residence, 170 East 70th Street, 6 p.m., 472-1500, ext. 194; Boy Still Missing , somewhere on the Upper East Side, 6 p.m., by invitation only, 649-3502.]

Thursday 8th

Tighten yer belts? For those in retail, the word "recession" is spelled one way: "A-C-C-E-S-S-O-R-I-E-S," girlfriend! One of our Observer colleagues, Emily Bracken, is quitting this taco stand to design accessories for her own company, The Belted Earl. "The Belted Earl used to be a euphemism for anyone in British aristocracy, because they kept their sword hidden in their little whatever-it-was," said the bodacious Ms. Bracken. "With George W. and conservatism, I think that people appreciate a return to the classics, updated to make them funky. Like my grandfather is the coolest dresser. It's a range of Upper East Sider to East Village kids. No handbags ." Tonight, she has a cocktail-party sample sale. Stay tuned for the Eight-Day Week's line of designer tea cozies ...

[193 Bowery, fourth floor, 6 p.m., by invitation only, 917-969-1319.]

Ananda, fix the sink! If you're a member of brassy, bubbly Generation Y (boomer arrogance combined with total lack of irony and a stunning unwillingness to even approach the Xerox machine), you'll want to know about today's YM party celebrating their MTV issue. YM used to be "Young Miss," then it was "Young and Modern," and now no one actually knows. In the crowd: Carson Daly, Ananda Lewis and Mandy ( please tell us this is Temptation Island' s wacky, strawberry-blond Mandy? ); a group called O-town will perform, and no, we don't think Oprah Winfrey owns a piece of them. "It's the newest boy band," a publicist told us. "They were founded by the same guy who founded Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync. He's like a huge fat guy out of Fort Lauderdale who has his finger in every pop sensation." We don't like the sound of that one bit.

[Milk Studios, 450 West 15th Street, 7 p.m., by invitation only, 499-1640.]

Friday 9th

Hating Hollywood? Maybe we just need some Sarafem (a.k.a. Prozac marketed to women not !), but all these American movies with gerunds in the title Finding Forrester . Saving Private Ryan . Saving Silverman . Teaching Mrs. Tingle (originally Killing Mrs. Tingle ). Being John Malkovich . Guarding Tess . Boxing Helena . Chasing Amy . Servicing Sara make us want to scream . (And when we called Citibank the other day, the recording told us that all the customer-service reps were busy "servicing" other customers; since when did Citibank become an escort service? ) Anyway, today the Film Society of Lincoln Center opens the season's umpteenth frog flick-fest, Rendez-Vous with French Cinema , and not a gerund in the lot! Merci beaucoup ! Tonight it's Murderous Maids , a cautionary tale not about East Side housekeepers but rather about what happens when your family hates you, sends you to a convent and hires you out as domestic help. Great date movie.

[Walter Reade Theater, 70 Lincoln Center Plaza, call 875-5610 for schedule.]

Saturday 10th

Early-90's revival watch! Minimalism over? Yes but it's also back ! "Less is more" is the very 1991 theme at the Architectural League's Beaux Arts Ball, held in Mies van der Rohe's sleek Seagram Building. On an invitation so subtle one can barely read it , guests are invited

to "dress more" or "dress less" the sartorial equivalent of a big, slouchy shrug. It's enough to make one feel the first prickings of nostalgia for Save Venice's recent masked ball or the Tartan Ball (not that anyone invited us to those lovely parties, hel- lo ?!?) Anyway, prizes will be awarded from the likes of the Princeton Architectural Press for the most architecturally inventive costumes. Hey, if they can dig us up a nice Princeton boy to make our Precious jealous (he's gotta cook!), we'll wear a d*mned lampshade on our head. In your gift bag: something from Calvin Klein. Ooo !

[375 Park Avenue, 9 p.m., 753-1722.]

Sunday 11th

Hi-de-heiress: You'd think we'd have learned by now that Sundays are a quiet day , but no-oo-o we came up with the one single thing that is going on in New York today (besides Sam Donaldson turning 67): Cab Calloway's daughter, Chris, is appearing with the Hi-De-Ho Orchestra and Dancers out in Brooklyn, the borough for people who are just plain fed up! (What with Kate Hudson , that disappointing Judy Garland biopic on ABC, etc., we're pretty much up to here with second-generation entertainers , but maybe we'll dial up our "jazz aficionado" friend with the leather blazer and clove-cigarette habit and get him to take us or maybe not .)

[Brooklyn Center for the Performing Arts, Walt Whitman Theater, Brooklyn College, one block from the junction of Flatbush and Nostrand avenues, 2 p.m., 718-951-4500.]

Monday 12th

Are you Finnished? The Northern European invasion Ikea , H&M , the Scandinavian Institute , all those Danish Modern revivals at the Cooper-Hewitt continues apace with a party for Richard Rayner's new book, The Cloud Sketcher , set in bleak, war-torn early-20th-century Finland and jolly Jazz Age Manhattan. (In continuing evidence of synergy, Mr. Rayner is an occasional Talk contributor! Which means, if he plays his cards right, he'll be promoted to writing for Gotham soon!) Alan Parker (he of such riotous successes as Angela's Ashes and Evita ) is supposed to direct and write the movie version, and Brad ("Gwyneth Who?") Pitt is apparently seriously considering the part of the protagonist, a Finnish architect named Esko Vaananen with burn scars on his face . We smell a "Best Makeup" Oscar. But tonight the thing is still a book, so enjoy some gratis Finlandia vodka at the United Nations (which, disturbingly, seems to be a new book-party hot spot ) and this bonus dirty excerpt about typical Finnish lovemaking from page 93: " she behaved, after sex, like a hectoring aunt ."

[Consulate General of Finland, 866 United Nations Plaza, Suite 250, 6 p.m., by invitation only, 207-7522.]

Gala gridlock: Sex and the City star Cynthia Nixon (the "smart" one) goes up against Lauren Bacall, Zoe Caldwell, Sandy Duncan, Celeste Holm (of All About Eve fame), Bebe Neuwirth , Lynn Redgrave and the Radio City Rockettes? Whose event will win? Ms. Nixon may look frail, but we kinda like her chances. She M.C.'s a benefit for the Kathryn and Gilber Miller Health Care Institute for Performing Artists at St. Luke's-Roosevelt Hospital Center ; the other ladies are teaming up for that interminable " Nothing Like a Dame" event for the Phyllis Newman Women's Health Initiative of the Actors' Fund of America. Free advice: Go to the wacko Finnish book party, above, or stay home and watch Ally McBeal ; but send a check to both of these fine causes, because without performing artists and women this city would just be a bunch of guys sitting around scratching themselves, eating Cheez Doodles, checking out "stereo equipment" on the Internet and talking about the designated-hitter rule.

[Miller Health Care, Kaplan Penthouse, Lincoln Center, 6 p.m., 523-7800; "Nothing Like a Dame," Martin Beck Theater, 302 West 45th Street, 8 p.m., 221-7300, ext. 129.]

Tuesday 13th

High Colin-ic: Anyone else share our mild Colin Quinn obsession? No? O.K. Tonight Mr. Quinn, whose brash, understated presence we really kinda miss on Saturday Night Live 's slick new "Weekend Update," joins 90's sex symbol Janeane Garofalo and peerless Bill Clinton Al Gore mimic Darrell Hammond to do some good old-fashioned standup at a Town Hall "Comedy J.A.M." Normally we avoid anything with the word " comedy" in the title, let alone an acronym like " J.A.M .," but it benefits spinal meningitis . What they're raffling: signed Rangers sticks (see aforementioned Cheez Doodles reference) and "some stuff" from spunky Daily Show host Jon Stewart , who did a nimble job of hosting the Grammys even if the music-industry types were too stupid to get his material. Did we mention Colin Quinn is gonna be there?

[123 West 43rd Street, 7:30 p.m., 307-4100.]

Wednesday 14th

A week 'til spring? We just can't wait for that fetid, inexplicably popular season that makes our skin break out . In the meantime, Hearst continues its stranglehold on the week, as art directors and photo editors from CosmoGirl , Good Housekeeping and Redbook (along with a bunch of stable boys from Condé Nast's Allure , The New Yorker , Self, etc.) show up bright and early at the Art Directors' Club in Chelsea to review and "judge" the work of any photographer willing to show up and pay 100 bucks Continental breakfast (a Danish, if you're lucky) will be served. So, you li'l Soho shutterbugs, get together those "edgy" nude self-portraits you did last spring .

[106 West 29th Street, 8 a.m. yikes! call 643-1440 to register.]

The last time John Travolta elicited the kind of gasps that have greeted his image on the cover of July's Good Housekeeping was, well, a few weeks ago. Mr. Travolta was playing a dreadlocked, scenery-chewing alien with elevator boots named Terl in Battlefield Earth , a movie that The New York Times film critic proclaimed a stinker for the ages.

This time, paid admission is not required to see Mr. Travolta looking like he's not of this earth. His rather unusual image can be found everywhere that Good Housekeeping is sold, which means that thousands of people will soon be skidding to a halt in front of newsstands all around the city and saying, "Sweet Mother of God, what happened? "

Let's start with the hair. Mr. Travolta, who appears on the cover of the magazine wearing a black suit and holding his 8-year-old son Jett on his lap, is sporting a pointy combed-down hairstyle that could only be described as Eddie Munster-meets- Planet of the Apes ' Dr. Zira.

In addition, Mr. Travolta looks to have been treated to a makeover by a Beverly Hills mortician. His skin is waxy, and he appears to be wearing an abundance of orange foundation and lip gloss. His eyes are preternaturally blue, and the three teeth peeking out from his rosy lips are whiter than human teeth should be.

So is Mr. Travolta calling for the heads of Good Housekeeping 's editorial and productions staffs?

On the contrary!

"Unfortunately, [Mr. Travolta] had us use his photographer," said Gina Davis, Good Housekeeping 's art director, who didn't seem thrilled that somebody had noticed that Mr. Travolta looked like Liberace as envisioned by Pierre Boulle. "We were given the film, and that's what he looked like."

Mr. Travolta used a photographer named Evan MacKenzie, who seems to be a family photographer of sorts. He shot a photograph of Mr. Travolta's wife, Kelly Preston, in maternity clothes, which appeared in USA Today . Mr. Travolta's publicist, Paul Bloch, did not return a call seeking comment.

The Transom asked Good Housekeeping editor in chief Ellen Levine whether the apparent digital manipulation of the photograph took place while the photo was in Mr. Travolta's or Hearst's custody. "We did not airbrush anything!" said Ms. Levine, who, like Ms. Davis, didn't seem in any rush to defend the image of Mr. Travolta. "It was a photographer of his choice. Very often celebrities weigh in on who they want to use. In this case, I don't think the photographer had a whole lot of time. "

Still, as the magazine's entertainment editor, Kate Coyne, explained: "Just getting a cover with John and Jett together was an absolute coup. We were delighted just to get the two of them together."

Rayder Love

A half hour before the art auction began, model Frankie Rayder excitedly clasped her hands in a high-ceilinged Chelsea art gallery. Even though hipster couple Clair Danes and Ben Lee and fashion designer Todd Oldham were milling about, Ms. Rayder couldn't be bothered to mingle. She could only talk about a young artist named Jeffrey Hall. "He paints like Basquiat!" she cooed and pointed at a self-portrait that Mr. Hall had painted, titled The Best Man , in which Mr. Hall had endowed himself with one green eye, one blue eye and a big mane of white hair.

Mr. Hall's work is not representational: He is 7 years old, about three feet tall, and his hair is shorn down to a couple of nubby millimeters.

Mr. Hall and Ms. Rayder met when she began volunteering to help out at the Monday and Wednesday classes put on by a new non-profit organization called ECHO Prosocial Gallery, which sponsors art classes for kids, then auctions their works off to make charitable donations.

Ms. Rayder–who reportedly makes approximately $10,000 per catwalk appearance–was invited to help out by the vice president of the program, Kate Dillon. The two women shared a place in New York about six years ago when they were both starting their modeling careers. Back then, Ms. Dillon was anorexic. After that troubled year with Ms. Rayder, as Ms. Dillon tells it, she "hit a brick wall," returned home to California, gained some weight, and came back to New York where she reinvented herself as a plus-size model. Ms. Rayder is still very skinny, but she and Ms. Dillon seemed to get along nonetheless.

At the beginning of the evening, when Ms. Rayder walked into the room, Mr. Hall, who was wearing a very small blue suit with a white T-shirt underneath, took leave of his little colleagues, ran across the room and jumped into her arms. Then Mr. Hall just hung there with his head pressed against Ms. Rayder's bosom–a move that he won't be able to get away with for much longer– wearing the contented look of an explorer who has just discovered the New World.

The Transom asked Ms. Rayder if she thought the kids might like the program because, as well as getting an education in art, they got to get close to the models, albeit in an innocent, Blue Lagoon kind of way. Ms. Rayder's feline mouth formed a smile. "Are you saying that I'm aesthetically pleasing to him?" she asked. "I don't know. Kids do understand what beauty is at that age … But I mean, he's only seven ."

Alex Broadbent, a 9-year-old bookish- looking boy with oval glasses who attends P.S. 41 with Mr. Hall, had his own particular take on the relationship.

"Jeffrey loves Frankie," Mr. Broadbent intoned. "He already asked to marry her." Mr. Broadbent paused, looking confused. "Well actually, she asked, and then Jeffrey said okay." He paused again. "Actually, he said no, but I think that he has a crush on her." Mr. Broadbent said that he was himself torn between the taut, wiry Ms. Rayder and the fleshier Ms. Dillon.

Then the ECHO kids were taken away so the auction could begin, most likely to spare them the disappointment if no one bid on their work. When Mr. Hall's name came up, Ms. Rayder jumped up and down in her seat. She easily got the first work of Mr. Hall's that was put on the block, for $600, and shouted, "It's going to be worth millions!"

The second work–the self-portrait bearing Mr. Halls' artist statement, "I was thinking too hard and then I just let my body be free and let myself go"–found another bidder in the form of one George Hall, a ruddy man in his early 40's who described himself as "retired–you know, the Internet." Though he was no relation to the artist, Mr. Hall seemed to be of the impression that he should have any kid's work who shared a named with him. George Hall started the bidding at $5,000.

"No! Fuck you!" Ms. Rayder shouted. Mr. Hall did not hear her. After some back-and- forth between the two, Ms. Rayder ended up winning the painting for $5,500. She pumped her arm in victory, but then shot a dirty look at Mr. Hall. "He's a pussy," she hissed. "If you're going to start a painting at $5,000, you should at least be willing to go up to six. That guy's a dick."

The Transom Also Hears …

… That Rosie O'Donnell, who gave her all in trying to save the Tony Awards telecast a few weeks back, has lately been pitching herself as the savior to another wobbly organization lousy with Judy Garland fans: the Democratic Party. At the May 14 Million Mom March against gun violence in Washington, D.C., Ms. O'Donnell was overheard pitching herself to Democratic leaders as a very willing speaker for the upcoming convention in Los Angeles in August. To Ms. O'Donnell's credit, nothing could take viewers' minds further from the issue of Bill Clinton's rabbity sex life than the sight of Ms. O'Donnell in a dress. A spokeswoman for Ms. O'Donnell told The Transom she'd heard nothing about it.

… Was Lazard Frères & Company chairman Michel David-Weill looking for a little divine inspiration before his firm closed the Seagram-Vivendi deal? A New York Times cameraman captured a cigar-puffing Mr. David-Weill among the camera-toting hoi polloi who gathered on Fifth Avenue on June 19 to watch Archbishop Edward M. Egan's inaugural procession into St. Patrick's Cathedral. (For those who keep old newspapers lying around, he can be found on page B11, in the photo that appears on the upper left hand of the page.) When The Transom attempted to reach Mr. David-Weill about the photo, a woman who identified herself only as "his secretary" said that Mr. David-Weill was not seeking religion, but rather was "waiting to cross the street."