Montauk Property on East Lake Drive.

NYO spotlights the Hamptons, where real estate sometimes follows Manhattan trends, but has its own particular flavor as you move through the towns of the South Fork. 

You might think that, less than a year after a cataclysmic coastal weather event like Superstorm Sandy, home buyers would be a little gun shy about purchasing properties near the ocean. But you would be—in the case of the Hamptons, according to the experts we consulted—wrong. The fact is that the Hamptons, unlike some communities in Long Island closer to Manhattan, largely escaped the wrath of Sandy, although some low-lying properties, like Jane Lauder’s cottage by the sea, were flattened. But by and large, the East End was spared and is drawing buyers who might have considered beach communities elsewhere. “Superstorm Sandy is attracting new people to the Hamptons,” says Ernie Cervi, Corcoran’s Executive Managing Director in Bridgehampton. “Where beach communities were devastated by the storm, those in search of a world-class beach resort are test-driving the Hamptons.”

Last year, brokers say, the market did not start really hopping until the end of the year, which brought tax breaks for those who closed before the start of 2013. Different story this year, says Marcia Altman, senior director for Brown Harris Stevens of the Hamptons. “The market has taken off with great enthusiasm,” she says. “Some price ranges are selling like hot cakes.”

And with some first-quarter results already trickling in, both trade volume and pricing are on the rise. “I thought the transactional volume of the fourth quarter 2012 might cannibalize the first quarter of 2013,” says Andrew Saunders, head of Saunders & Associates, which has offices in Bridgehampton and Southampton. “But our bookings are very strong. There’s renewed enthusiasm for the Hamptons.” Among those who are enthused, Mr. Saunders adds happily, are the investor class. “For prime investable properties south of the highway, there are many more buyers than sellers.”

The clubhouse at Bishop's Pond, site of a new development.

One seaside and wind-swept area that is attracting a lot of attention these days is Montauk. The once-sleepy fishing village at the farthest reaches of the South Fork has become a magnet for the glamorous and even those in search of nightlife. “Over the past few years, many restaurants, hotels and club-like venues have been established in Montauk,” Mr. Cervi says. “You can still go there for its great surfing, beaches and small-town atmosphere. But now you can also go to a chic place for lunch and hang by the pool.” Everyone from singer-songwriter Rufus Wainwright to candypreneur Dylan Lauren has heeded the siren song of the new—but still charming—Montauk.

Oceanfront is great, but being near any kind of water is always a draw. And as Mr. Cervi points out, the Hamptons are chock-full of beautiful bays and ponds—something that many homebuyers love. For those who must have ocean, but don’t want to travel as far out as Montauk, there are plenty of other pleasant options as well. “There are great oceanfront deals in Westhampton and in Quogue,” points out Douglas Elliman president and CEO Dottie Herman, a longtime Hamptons expert and great aficionado. “The beaches are beautiful there. Further east, if you search north of the highway, there are some really spectacular homes with unbelievable views, and for less than what you would pay for the same amount of space south of the highway. Each town has its own character—there is something for everyone.”

Ms. Altman sees the trend moving westward as well. “The western Hamptons, Westhampton Beach and Quogue area are particularly hot,” she says. “The traffic that clogs the roads east of the Shinnecock Canal and the difficulty getting into restaurants, etc. ... further east, has brought the buyers to this area in droves.”

Everyone is noticing the uptick in activity. Ms. Herman says renters commenced their searches for Hamptons summer getaways earlier in the season this year compared to last, and everyone seems to agree that well-priced properties for sale are moving briskly.  “Anything priced right is hot,” Ms. Herman says, “because people want to know they are making a smart investment. The Hamptons is one of the most beautiful places on Earth, no matter where you are.”

Somewhere to dine al fresco in the Hamptons.

Who is buying these homes? Mostly New Yorkers, and those from the tristate area, with a smattering of foreigners and the usual contingent of people from the entertainment industry. Most deals are not the high-profile ones that make the news, like hedge fund titan Steve Cohen’s $60 million purchase in East Hampton on Further Lane and the Atlantic Ocean. In fact, as Mr. Saunders is at some pains to point out, the “critical mass of transactions is $2 million and under. The Hamptons has an elitist reputation. But the lifestyle is affordable to more people.”

Concurring that the super-rich and famous alone do not make a market, Ms. Herman says, “The second-home market is a huge trend right now among two sets of people: Baby boomers who want to buy a place big enough to have their children and grandchildren come visit, and the younger set who want to feel like they can get away without the hassle of taking a plane. They can drive a couple of hours and still feel like they are on vacation. With interest rates near record lows, I anticipate this second-home trend will be around for a while.”

Buyers are looking for value and solid investments, says Ms. Herman, plus “big spaces to entertain with great kitchens, luxurious finishes, big closets and great views!”

The buyers Ms. Altman is seeing are asking for and paying higher prices for updated homes with new kitchens, baths and updated mechanical systems. “There is also a very noticeable trend towards modern,” she notes. “It’s showing up in new construction and in the ’70s and ’80s contemporaries that lend themselves to modern renovations.”

Mr. Cervi says the confidence in the Hamptons market is evident in broad daylight with new construction dotting the landscape. “Investors and end users are buying raw land and building substantial homes,” he says. And in yet another development, Mr. Cervi’s firm, Corcoran, is involved in the creation of two new condominium buildings as well. One is the conversion of the Bulova Watchcase Factory in downtown Sag Harbor, called, appropriately, Watchcase. The other is Bishop’s Pond, a parcel that will feature large units in Southampton.

jallon@observer.com

Beep, beep. (Getty)

Nothing ruins holiday plans like being stuck in traffic, but it looks like New Yorkers pretty much have no choice. The city will suffer the worst backups in the nation tomorrow, according to Seattle-based traffic monitoring firm INRIX.

Los Angeles typically takes the crown, but as everyone flees the city one last time for the summer, historic data shows we are in for some serious delays. Coming in third is our neighbor to the north, Bridgeport, Conn., which, being trapped between us and Boston on the I-95 corridor, gets it from both sides.

The worst trip possible, not surprisingly, is out to the Hamptons, which will take up to four and a half hours during the worst travel times for people taking the Long Island Expressway. The Sunrise Highway is slightly better at 3 hours and 40 minutes. Under normal circumstances, both trips would take a little over two hours.

What came as a bit of surprise is that probably for the first time ever, the Jersey Shore is a better bet--and not just at the craps tables. Trips to Atlantic City take nearly half the time of those to the Hamptons, about 2 hours and 37 minutes. That is compared with 2 hours and 12 minutes on a normal trip. If they know how to do anything in Jersey, it’s drive.

As for when to hit the road, well, you probably should have already, but there is still time to beat the traffic. Go. Now. By 4 p.m. on Friday, traffic will reach its worst point, calming, but not by much, 4 hours later. It worsens again around noon on Saturday, and will drag the rest of the day.

What are you doing? Stop reading already and get out of here.

Church-goers give Baldwin the evil eye (NBC)

Poor Alec Baldwin! Not only is the recent Vanity Fair cover guy better known for his hot head than for his new, cool marriage to Hilaria Thomas or his role on 30 Rock, but it turns out most of the country refuses to accept Mr. Baldwin as the last word on their lord and savior as well!

Mr. Baldwin, who has an eight-acre spread upstate, often goes to Sunday services at Trinity Parish in East Hampton during the summer. And because he is a celebrity, he is allowed to give sermons from the pulpit. (Is that how Christianity works?)

Except that some uptight parishioners were not so happy with Mr. Baldwin's recent sermonizing, and literally turned their backs on him while he read.

From Page Six:

“Alec loves to be the center of attention and often reads from the pulpit, which really annoys some in the congregation. It is so bad that, one recent Sunday, he went up to read, and part of the congregation stood and rudely turned their backs on him.”

The source said, “Even though he has generously given a lot of money to the town, there are people who just don’t like him. He has a need for attention and shows up at every event. When people go to the church, they don’t want to see the movie star up there.”

That is so rude ... if Mr. Baldwin gave the money to the church from his highly successful show 30 Rock, the least the members could do is show some respect and listen to him!

Besides, who would you rather deliver your Sunday-morning Jesus allegory: some boring priest, or the guy from the Capital One commercials?

Why pay wages? Just hold them against their will.

If you thought indentured servants went out of fashion with the Revolutionary War, you’re wrong: apparently the practice is alive and kicking, at least according to Ni Ketut Sulastri, a former employee who worked at Rose and Lawrence Halsey's Water Mill estate in the Hamptons.

According to the New York Post, Ms. Sulastri, who was hired through an Indonesian intermediary, worked for the Halseys from 2005 to 2008 and is now suing the couple for the brutal and unfair treatment she experienced as their servant. For instance, instead of a promised salary of $450 a month and a 9-to-5 workday, Ms. Sulastri alleges that she earned only $350 a month and was forced to work 15 hour days. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg.

Like Harry Potter himself, Ms. Sulastri claims that she was forced to sleep in a closet instead of in a real bedroom, and instead of being fed, well, normal food, she was given only leftovers and hot dogs. When she complained, she said that she was told, “Nothing is free in America," and this certainly explains her frankfurter-heavy diet, which is about as close to free as you can come—according to chacha.com, an 8-pack of Oscar Mayer wieners costs a paltry $3.89.

The lawsuit also claims that the Halseys barred Ms. Sulastri from calling her home in Indonesia, confiscated her passport, and threatened her with a $3,000 fee if she ever left their estate.

Ms. Sulastri's story leaves us with a few unanswered questions, namely how did she manage to end her servitude to the Halseys and why has it taken her four years to sue them? In any event, she is now proving that the Halseys' lesson is true—nothing's free in America, not even labor.

jschiewe@observer.com

It's not too late to be a beach bum. (danielle_blue, flickr)

Did you think that you had missed the Jitney on a summer rental in the Hamptons? Don't worry! This summer there are more than enough to go around.

It looks like Goldman Sachs managing directors aren't the only ones who are too overworked to get to the beach these days.

The New York Post reports that most renters are too busy trying to keep their jobs to devote several months at a time boozing by the water. So instead of sinking money into a rental that spans Memorial Day through Labor Day, they’re seeking shorter (and cheaper) stays.

But while this opens up cottages to latecomers, it’s ticking off owners, who complain about having to clean their cottage/beach mansions more than once a season. Many are holding out for the golden beachgoer of summers past–the Memorial through Labor Day renter–buoyed by increasingly fragile hope and rumors that Jennifer Lopez is still looking for a place to rent. Alas, so few people can spend all summer summering anymore.

Still, landlords who did get on board with the influx of part-time Hamptons-goers are profiting, the Post notes. Just don't expect a deal.

"We may see an influx of people who want deals from July through Labor Day, low-balling,” Brown Harris Stevens broker Noel Love told the Post. “But most of the properties I represent, if someone comes in and insults them with an offer, they say ‘Don’t bother.’ ”

We’re not sure it’s enough to make the other dogged landlords reconsider the profitability of shorter stays, but at least we know there are still some cottages on the market. Which, by the way, will be about 25 percent less come September.

sgrothjan@observer.com

Because it’s not a party without Bachmann’s Party Mix.

I made sure to grab a window seat because I was determined to keep an eye on the road. It was time for me to figure out where exactly the Hamptons were. The last time I ventured a guess, it was deemed so clueless that my publicist, R. Couri Hay, had to step in, spinning my ignorance as some kind of adorable party trick.

“Drew, guess where the Hamptons are!” he would exclaim, shoving me in front of a group of strangers.

“Um, upstate?”

“No, tell them what you said before! About New Jersey!”

You see, I was a Hamptons virgin. Everything I knew about the area came from my somewhat sketchy memory of reading The Great Gatsby in high school, which took place on the North Fork (yes, I know), but close enough. At one point I leaned over to my seatmate and asked her where the Dr. T.J. Eckleburg sign with the big eyes was going to be.

The young lady, bless her heart, didn’t miss a beat. “Those were in New York,” she whispered. “Also, you have orange crumbs on your shirt.”

After some sort of time distortion—a common occurrence on the LIE I’m told—I arrived in Bridgehampton, where I was to rendezvous with my guide for the weekend, Cassandra Seidenfeld, whom I had met through Mr. Hay. Here is what I knew about her: she was an actress, she would almost definitely be on Real Housewives this season, and she had offered to host me for the weekend.

“I’m not mad that you’re late,” Ms. Seidenfeld chirped, heaving my gigantic Yankees beach bag into the trunk of her Audi SSL (which had a Ferrari engine, I was reminded frequently). “The Jitney has been terrible,” she said. “I saw a pile-up of six cars. Someone probably died today.”

We got into the Audi. “Okay, we’re going to Pierre’s!” she suddenly announced.

With that, we were off.

Ms. Seidenfeld then hung a left and parked her car just 50 feet from where she had picked me up.

Over mussels, the restaurant’s owner Pierre Weber, a dashing, older Frenchman in a white open shirt and yellow slacks came over to greet us. Mr. Weber made it clear he did not want me writing a review of his restaurant. He told us an anecdote about how he’d once had to banish Gael Greene, lest she write about the food.

“Don’t worry, Drew’s writing is off the charts!” Ms. Seidenfeld vouched.

I promised not to write a review, although he didn’t have anything to worry about. The food was spectacular! And the service? Doting. Pierre kept coming over to flirt in that European way, you know, holding my hand, stroking my tattoos, and offering that old-fashioned remedy, “kissing it better,” after I literally bit my lip during a particularly racy joke.

“You seem nervous,” he told me. “We have to get you to loosen up.”
“You have to stop flirting with Pierre!” Cassandra scolded on our way out.

We then drove two and a half blocks to the Bridgehampton Inn, which had some connection to Matt Lauer and his wife, although I’m not exactly sure what it was.

Saturday morning I found Ms. Seidenfeld downstairs at the Inn, conferring with Seren, one of hotel’s employees. Seren was also a fortune teller, and Ms. Seidenfeld had some questions. Out of courtesy to the woman upon whose kindness I was completely reliant, I had promised not to write about her affairs d’amour, which were...complicated.

Seren was in the middle of telling Ms. Seidenfeld that she would meet a guy like [REDACTED], and his name would be a combination of [REDACTED] and [REDACTED].

You read it here first.

Lobster cum lobster

And then, finally, it was time for the beach! Actually, first it was time to buy big floppy hats at TJ Maxx, which Ms. Seidenfeld did while having me circle the lot. “The police here have no sense of humor, so watch it!” she told me before dashing off and leaving me in charge of a Ferrari engine.

Of course, my first thought was: Do any cops have a sense of humor?
The second being: I don’t have a driver’s license on me.

After the hat excursion, we drove to Montauk, stopping on the way for lobster rolls at The Clam Bar. This was the first of three lobsters I would eat in under 24 hours.

Once situated on the beach, we somehow downed two bottles of Domaines Ott, which was probably not the best idea since we were planning to attend a party for God’s Love We Deliver at the home of interior designers Randy Kemper and Tony Ingrao at 6.

Things got blurry, naps were taken, and before we knew it, we were late.

Cassandra Seidenfeld, Randy Kemper, and someone trying not to fall over. (Patrick McMullan)

The estate was an incredible labyrinth of topiaries. I soon learned that Mr. Kemper and Mr. Ingrao have done homes for Kim Cattrall, Howard and Beth Ostrosky Stern and Suzy and Jack Welch, in addition to designing this insane palace of shrubbery. My heels kept getting stuck in the mud—dead giveaway of a Hamptons newbie, I soon learned. (Real women wear wedges.) Since the party ended at 9, we scrambled around the maze looking for our hosts. We needed a picture with our hosts! Due to our tardiness, we’d already missed a bevy of celebrities: Donny Deutsch, Aviva Drescher, Ford Huniford, Marjorie Gubelmann, and every socialite in the entire world.

Cassandra was on a tear, desperate to have Patrick McMullan take my photo with Mr. Kemper. Finally, a beleaguered Mr. McMullan came over and I traded him a cigarette for a snap.

And then it was off to the Hamptons Players Club, where partner Frank Cilione sat us at a prime table and I ordered a lobster stuffed with lobster and topped with lobster bisque (sounds redundant but it wasn’t).

The next morning, after I devoured Ms. Seidenfeld’s leftover lobster for breakfast, she and I and our floppy hats braved the traffic back to Manhattan.

Dropping me at my apartment, Cassandra insisted I come to Jean Shafiroff’s party next week. With that, she hopped back in her Audi with a Ferrari engine and peeled away.

“You bet your [REDACTED],” I mumbled, sliding into my cool sheets, already counting the sheep that would graze on the lawn behind the high privet hedge in whichever Hampton I would one day have the good fortune to live in.

Minaj and...Wintour?

It’s hard to say goodbye to summer. We’ll miss the traffic jams en route to East Hampton, the lingering smell of street fair sausages on our block, the earthquakes, the hurricanes, the Mets ... On second thought, we’re ready for Fall. But there’s too much to do! Whose idea was it to overbook the US Open, Fashion Week, and the decade memorial of 9/11, anyway? Barack Obama knows what we’re talking about: no one watched his major job speech because it happened to coincide with a NFL’s kickoff season and David Vitters whined to the Washington Post that he had to miss a football-watching party because Harry Reid was making all the Senators vote that night.

Everyone’s overscheduled. Jennifer Lopez’s secret date with Bradley Cooper at Per Se happened to overlap with Comedy Central’s Roast of Charlie Sheen on Saturday, and there were two more Republican debates. Two of these events were horrifying but we won’t say which ones. Michele Bachmann and Rick Santorum were angry about Rick Perry personally injecting children with HPV--sorry, a vaccine to prevent HPV. (We were a little thrown by the aggressive gesticulations of faux outrage.) “Little girls don’t get a mulligan,” said Ms. Bachmann, making Mitt Romney look like the only sane Republican in the room, which is akin to being the only Nicki Minaj in a Lincoln Center fashion show squashed between Anna Wintour, Stefano Tonchi, and Edward Enninful.

You might be feeling overwhelmed, but refrain from taking your ball and going home, like Michael Arrington. Now that AOL has ousted him and taken TechCrunch for its own, you might expect a statement with a well-placed dirty word a la Carol Bartz, Yahoo’s firecracker ex-CEO who knows how to leave with a bang (or at least an f-bomb). And she’s not the only one experiencing job dissatisfaction of the worst kind. Groupon’s being sued by some of its employees, Talking Points Memo got cyber-hacked (if only momentarily), and Michael Bloomberg has apparently never forgiven David Remnick for refusing him a New Yorker cartoon caption.

But most of the expletives issued this week were produced by stunned Fashion Week partygoers who were expecting Vera Wang and got Odd Future’s Tyler the Creator, or had the misfortune of running into Kim Kardashian spinning with Jersey Shore’s resident Pokemon Pauly D. at Dash before the police had to come and stop a mob from bum-rushing the flagship store during Fashion’s Night Out. But really, it makes sense. We need the NYPD more than ever right now, You never know when Mr. Sheen will visit the Plaza again.

And speaking of questionable behavior, Donald Rumsfeld canceled his New York Times subscription over Paul Krugman’s September 11th essay, which may have also been questionable. (We’d suggest, as Mr. Krugman did, that we’re not going to allow comments on this column for obvious reasons, but who are we kidding? Of course we are!) But we secretly think Mr. Rumsfeld is shedding a tear over Sam Sifton taking leave his position as restaurant reviewer. No word yet on who’ll replace Sifton on the foodie beat, but we hear Ms. Bartz is available, and we imagine her choice selection of adjectives for anything she doesn’t like would provide hours of entertainment for the Times copyediting desk. If she doesn’t already have too much to do, that is. After all, it’s busy season.

Some 23 television shows are being filmed in the city at the moment, a record number. Some of the shows currently filming on the streets should be no surprise. The HBO series Girls, for example, is about a group of young adults living in the city, while the plot of NBC’s Smash centers on the making of a Broadway musical. It stands to reason that directors, cameramen, gaffers, and actors should on the streets, capturing that authentic Big Apple experience.

But you don’t have to be particularly old to remember that not so long ago, downtown Toronto used to serve as the city’s body double in feature films as well as TV shows. The costs, work rules and inconveniences of the city discouraged the entertainment industry from spending time—and their money—in New York.

Thanks to the persistence and hard work of the Mayor’s Office of Media and Entertainment, however, television producers and directors are flocking back to New York this summer. In fact, the city has become so popular that shows that take place in other cities actually are being shot here, including the HBO series Boardwalk Empire, which is set in Depression-era Atlantic City.

Some New Yorkers may grumble about the inconveniences that are inevitable when nearly two dozen film crews are on location in popular neighborhoods or near trendy nightspots. Here’s a bit of advice for those iconoclasts: It’s August. Chill out. Take a long weekend in the Hamptons. And when you come back, consider this—those film crews added billions of dollars to the city’s economy and employ about 100,000 New Yorkers.

That’s worth a little midsummer inconvenience, no?

But never mind that, because the house is beautifully set on the ocean with five bedrooms, a pool, a "media room," and coral floors. Talk about nautical. An added bonus is the outdoor kitchen grill "cleverly hidden" by a remote-controlled door.

Lincoln Debates

Not all is well at Lincoln Center--the City Opera finally bolted for greener (hopefully more acoustically sound) pastures, and the City Ballet's season was described by our venerable dance critic as "schizophrenic." Plus, they have a theater named after a tea-partying Koch brother! But the site's ongoing redevelopment continues apace, and the latest step is unveiled this afternoon when Reynold Levy, president of Lincoln Center, presides over a ribbon-cutting for the new Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center. The new theater will include two screening rooms, an amphitheater and a cafe. It's been designed by architect David Rockwell, in case it reminds you of one of his Nobu restaurants. The theater officially begins screenings on June 17 with the New York Times documentary Page One. We just hope it's in 3-D, so we can all witness David Carr pounding out copy in his full glory! ... Meanwhile, super-duper-model Iman hosts the Gordon Parks Foundation Dinner. The late Parks was, among his many other accomplishments, the director of Shaft, and his foundation is meant to honor those "who have contributed their lives to the arts." Naturally, the honorees include legendary performance artist Arianna Huffington, as well as fashion alien Karl Lagerfeld and TED impresario Sir Ken Robinson.

Lincoln Center ribbon-cutting ceremony at 4pm, 144 West 65th Street, closed to public; Gordon Parks Foundation Dinner, Gotham Hall, 1356 Broadway, 6:30pm cocktails, 7:30pm dinner, visit gordonparksfoundation.org for tickets and information.

Thursday, June 2

Health and Wealth

Cipriani is positively crawling tonight with world leaders (seriously, do not drop a bomb on this place!) in town for the Global Business Coalition Conference and Gala Awards: Ted Turner! George Soros! Gordon Brown! Whoopi Goldberg! We know, the former Hollywood Squares Center Square and View hostess isn't quite on a par, powerwise, with former prime ministers or Bilderberg Group members, but she's a seasoned hostess, and she'll keep the proceedings running smoothly. Honorees were selected for their dedication to global health--try to catch one during the creatively titled predinner "networking reception." All receptions are about networking, of course, but the chance to catch up with Mr. Soros and ask him to float you a $50 is something special.

Cipriani Wall Street, 55 Wall Street, 6pm networking reception, 7pm dinner with musical performances by Natalie Merchant, Yvonne Chaka Chaka, and Vusi Mahlasela, visit conference2011.gbcimpact.org for tickets and information. 

Friday, June 3

Cheek by Howl

I saw the greatest minds of my generation ... gathered for a party in Tompkins Square Park! The poet Allen Ginsberg may be gone, but his acolytes grow in number--once you've been played on film by James Franco, you're on the poetry A-list. Ginsburg groupies of all ages gather tonight for the commencement of the Howl Festival, a three-day celebration of all things Allen. Tonight brings a group reading of Howl, the poet's signature work--happily, times have changed, so presumably the attendees won't be prosecuted for vulgarity! Saturday and Sunday's events include a children's carnival, just in case you want Junior to get inculcated into Beat culture very, very early.

Howl Festival begins tonight at Tompkins Square Park, group reading 5pm-7pm, free, visit howlfestival.com for information.

Saturday, June 4

Buck You!

What would you like to do on your weekend in the Hamptons? If you're anything like us, you're ready to duck into a movie theater (the beaches have their fleeting charms, but it's so hot outside). The documentary Buck--which recently earned itself a private Tom Brokaw-hosted screening in New York--continues its race to become the most widely seen-among-socialites film of the season with a screening at the Hamptons International Film Festival's SummerDocs series. (The film profiles a brilliant horse whisperer, so go ahead and wear your jodhpurs.) After the screening, James Lipton interviews the salty if handsome equine expert--hopefully asking him those great Liptonian questions about curse words and turn-ons. Whoa, Nelly.

Guild Hall, John Drew Theater,
158 Main Street (East Hampton), 8pm, visit guildhall.org for tickets
and information.

Sunday, June 5

Back in the Saddle

Speaking of horses, the smart set gathers on Governors Island today for the Veuve Clicquot Polo Classic. It's an afternoon of Champagne, sweltering heat and thrilling riding. The Australian dynamo Hugh Jackman is to preside over the event (replacing absentee star Prince Harry--sorry, you would-be princess brides!). Other big names in attendance include bona fide horsey lady Georgina Bloomberg, Fiat heir Lapo Elkann, Washington senatorial scion Chet Lott, and Top Chefstress Padma Lakshmi. Before the polo begins, we'll be trying to sneak our way onto Ms. Lakshmi's picnic blanket for the afternoon's outdoor repast-- if anyone would know what food to pack for an afternoon picnic, it'd be her! (For all those less connected, Danny Meyer's restaurants have set up outposts to provide sustenance. Be sure to ask for a sugar cube for the ponies!)

Governors Island, ferries depart
from Battery Maritime Building at
10 South Street, gates open 11am, polo begins at 2:30, awards ceremony at 4pm, information, maps and tickets available at vsseason.com/polo.

Monday, June 6

Fashion Plates

Anderson Cooper has serious ties to the fashion industry; after all, his mom used to design our favorite jeans! Tonight, the denim heir--who's pretty dapper himself!--hosts the Council of Fashion Designers of America awards. Unlike certain bloated ceremonies we could mention, the CFDAs have only three nominees per category (Alexander Wang, those Proenza Schouler boys and Marc Jacobs face off for Womenswear Designer of the Year), so Mr. Cooper's hosting job will be a bit streamlined, just like the sleek menswear he prefers. Some categories have already announced their winners: Lady Gaga will pick up the Fashion Icon Award (expect her to don something simple and tasteful--a nice blouse, perhaps, and chic slacks), and Celine's Phoebe Philo will nab the International Award. We'll be watching Mr. Cooper's hosting efforts closely--the guy can handle hurricanes, but you don't get to be the next Oprah without facing down Marc Jacobs ...

Alice Tully Hall, 70 Lincoln Center Plaza, arrivals and cocktail hour, 6:30pm, event to follow, visit cfda.com for more information.

Tuesday, June 7

Naturopathy

Summer means time outdoors, naturally--but does it have to be so natural? (We prefer the Hamptons, or, if we're slumming it, Sheeps Meadow.) Well-meaning vegetable gardens--intended to help students eat healthfully and live off the land--aren't simply limited to the White House lawns! Earlier this year, a farm unexpectedly sprouted up in the Battery, under the auspices of the Battery Conservancy, and now this "Urban Farm" is the setting for an outdoor shindig. The Battery Conservancy's "Farm to Feast" gala honors legal eagle Robert Morgenthau with a big-tent blow-out right next to the farm ... For those unafraid of venturing to Brooklyn, the Botanic Garden is preparing a Spring Gala with Champagne in the Herb Garden, cocktails in the Rose Garden and dinner on the Cherry Esplanade. Even the after-party is outside, though we hope the only ones "making it rain" are the high-spirited and generous attendees.

Battery Gala, tent on Battery lawn next to Urban Farm (enter at State and Pearl Streets), 6pm cocktails, 7pm dinner, call (212) 344-3491 x21 for tickets and information; Brooklyn Botanic Garden Spring Gala, 5:30pm Champagne, 6:30pm cocktails, 8pm dinner, 9:30pm after party, visit bbg.org for tickets and information.

Wednesday, June 8

Teenage Dreams

It's prom season for the city's teens, who are flooding florists and packing tuxedo rental shops. And for one night, at least, it's prom night for the rest of us, too, at the Urban Arts Partnership's so-called Prom benefit, a do-over of sorts for those of us who spent the big night weeping in our bedrooms back in high school. This "Prom" boasts all the high-school-y trappings--hors d'oeuvres, dancing, romance--as well as cocktails (though sadly, the spiked punch will be obtained legally)! Vanity Fair's saucy interlocutor George Wayne, Social Network socialite-in-training Jesse Eisenberg, and the artiste Alan Cumming are among those who'll don blue ruffled tuxes to benefit the Urban Arts Partnership, which promotes arts education for citified youngsters. Save us a dance, Jesse!

Edison Ballroom, 240 West 47th Street, 7:30pm, call (212) 966-5881
for tickets and information.