Marin Mazzie and Paulo Szot.

“What you are about to see is several of the foundation’s protégés doing what they truly love to do,” announced our host, actor and arts philanthropist Alec Baldwin, to a dignified audience at Carnegie Hall last Monday evening. We had gathered for a one-night-only concert to benefit the Lang Lang International Music Foundation, and six young prodigies were about to take the stage. The adorable and mesmerizing Johnson Zhongxin Li, 9, played Beethoven’s Piano Sonata for Four Hands in D major, Op. 6 with the help of Lang Lang himself.

“When you play in [Carnegie Hall], you hear the sound of angels,” chirped Kate Xintong Lee, 12, after her performance.

Then came the pros: Scandinavian pop star Oh Land performed two haunting ballads with Lang Lang and Joshua Bell on instruments, John Legend swaggered through a duo of R&B tunes and supple soprano diva Renée Fleming gave a stellar performance of a Joseph Canteloube folk aria. But it was her encore of “Ô mio babbino caro,” that received the thunderous, emotional applause.

“I don’t think anyone really wants to hear us play the piano,” laughed a very pregnant Hilaria Thomas Baldwin on the arm of her husband at the post-concert dinner in the Time Warner Center.

“I have no musical abilities!” interjected Mr. Baldwin. “I am only a fan and endless admirer.”

“Have you played any Lang Lang for the baby?” Shindigger asked.

“You know what? The entire time [during the show], she was kicking,” Mrs. Baldwin revealed.

And the beat went on the next night at BAM’s Ignite Gala at the SkyLight Modern in Chelsea, which had been transformed into a verdant, tropical formal dining hall. As Shindigger munched on an heirloom tomato and avocado salad, students of BAM/Restoration Dance delivered a rousing cultural performance. For the mains, we had freekeh salad, haricot verts and polenta and enjoyed two original poetry performances. (BAM’s events are always as tasty as they are enriching.)

“I grew up in New York City; I attended public school,” began actress Lucy Liu after congratulating honoree Richard E. Feldman on his Ignite Award. “I didn’t really recognize who I was and where I was going until I started to participate in arts programs, and that was not something that was readily available to me.”

She continued: “In education, budgets are being slashed, and unfortunately children are the ones who suffer. In the end, we will all suffer.”

The end of this particular event saw only a performance by Rufus Wainwright, no suffering.

And then onto the New York Philharmonic’s spring gala, where Tony winner and Met Opera baritone Paulo Szot swept patrons off their feet with the help of Megan Hilty and Marin Mazzie—all under the baton of Ted Sperling. The repertoire was titled “An Enchanted Evening” and featured a potpourri of classic show tunes and Brazilian love ballads. Shindigger scampered into Avery Fisher Hall just in time for Mr. Szot’s encore of “This Nearly Was Mine” from South Pacific.

“I loved ‘So in Love’ with Marin Mazzie. I thought that was amazing,” gushed national news correspondent Alina Cho as she kissed Shindigger on both cheeks and introduced us to her mother, her date for the evening. Ms. Cho, who had traveled with the Philharmonic orchestra to North Korea in 2008 and filmed a segment there for CNN, looked delectable in one of her bestie Bibhu Mohaptra’s shimmering gowns.

“I’m actually a fan of Megan Hilty,” she added. “The crazy thing is I had lunch with Debra Messing today, so it’s been a Smash kind of day.”

Alec Baldwin, clearly on a performing arts charity binge last week, strode up to Ms. Cho’s table along with Karen LeFrak, who is on the New York Philharmonic board of directors and serves as a chair for the special events committee.

“I loved the South Pacific songs,” Ms. LeFrak said as she greeted Ms. Cho and co. “I think because I had seen Paulo do it [on Broadway].”

Ms. Mazzie was all bubbles as well, since the evening marked the first time she had the opportunity to sing with Mr. Szot.

“It was very exciting to be able to sing with that magnificent, glorious voice and that magnificent beautiful man,” she giggled. “I love singing with the Philharmonic. They truly are one of the greatest orchestras in the world, if not the greatest. And Ted Sperling and I have been friends for more years than I’m willing to say!”

“When will we see you back on the Broadway stage?” Shindigger prodded.

“Just keep your fingers crossed, ’cuz it’s gonna be soon,” she said sotto voce.

“This is an opportunity for us to have a different type of music than might be customary and just be festive,” explained Philharmonic chairman Gary W. Parr as we sipped on a Chilean cabernet sauvignon. “It does draw something of a different audience,” he winked. “It’s a good time!”

Before guests dined on chimichurri-grilled prime steak and vegetables, we found Ted Sperling and asked him what his most memorable musical moment of the evening had been.

“I really enjoyed the two Cole Porter tunes, ‘My Heart Belongs to Daddy’ and then ‘So in Love,’” the conductor-director told us. “It’s just such a luscious piece of material. They both have a sexiness to them.”

And with that, Shindigger trekked back to our date, head swimming with good music and good wine, both enchanted and aroused.

John Legend and Chrissy Teigen (Getty).

Every year, after being inundated by the various social responsibilities of the holiday season as well as various boisterous New Year’s soirées, the city’s movers and shakers take a perennial pause. Jet-setters dash off to the Caribbean, fashion mavens begin migrating to Milan and Paris, and socialites take to the slopes of Deer Valley and Aspen. Shindigger, your genteel stalwart, was in search of VIP action last week, but immediate options were scarce. That is, until we received a welcome “howdy” to partake in the Professional Bull Riders’ VIP schedule of events. Was Shindigger ready to exchange hefty pours of Veuve Clicquot for Pabst Blue Ribbon? Why the hell not?

On January 4, outfitted in our finest Western attire, we trotted into a clandestine palatial lounge space in the bowels of Madison Square Garden. (Yes—Shindigger does own a cowboy hat and some flannel for times such as these.) This was the Professional Bull Riders’ opening night VIP reception, hosted by model Chrissy Teigen. Top-ranked bull riders L.J. Jenkins and J.B. Mauney and NASCAR star Kyle Busch—ever the rebel, he uses his full name as opposed to rodeo-friendly initials—also made brief appearances at the opening festivities. 

“I don’t ride!” Ms. Teigen told Shindigger, cabernet in hand, outside one of the executive salons. “I’ve been to rodeos, but I’ve never seen a bull ride ever in my life, and now we’re up and close and center—I’m freaking out!” Impressive enthusiasm for a Utah native.

This evening, the waifish brunette looked delectable in one of Isabel Marant’s black fringe suede jackets. “She went Midwestern last season,” the model gushed. “Finally a reason to wear it!”

We wanted to know how this rustic experience differed from her usual outings.

“I feel like everyone pulled their cowboy hats from the top of their closets, dusted them off and put them on for tonight,” she answered graciously with a laugh.

Her fiancé John Legend kept a low profile, preferring to hide in the shadows of a colossal sports trophy. Shindigger even saw one attendee point and yell, “Is that Usher?” Oh dear.

“I asked him to come,” said Ms. Teigen of her skittish companion. “He’s a little jet-lagged. We were in Tokyo right before this.” The couple had spent Christmas in Japan before flying to Las Vegas for New Year’s Eve festivities.

“Hopefully the bulls will kick him in the face and he’ll wake up a bit,” she said, sotto voce.

It’s always satisfying when the hostess enjoys an event, and Ms. Teigen expressed sincere pleasure. Especially with the heavy buffet swarming with bull riders’ entourages, cowboys and the occasional scantily-clad cowgirl seductress promoting some product.

Guests were asked to proceed into the stadium, and Ms. Teigen said she was excited to witness the live action, but feared for the bull riders’ crown jewels. “It’s violent for their junk,” she blurted with a chuckle. “I mean, it gets penetrated back inside of them!”

Shindigger and crew meandered to our seats for the gladiatorial spectacle, which kicked off with gunpowder explosions, fireworks, confetti cannons, flames and a Christian blessing for each rider. An interesting start indeed. We guzzled our drinks and dutifully replenished them before the first ride. A good thing too, as we were not prepared for the nail-biting drama: enormous bulls bucked and raged in the massive dirt area, jolting and flinging the adorable but no doubt soon-to-be-toothless riders like flimsy pieces of cardboard—over and over again.

The triumphant ones rode for the required time of eight seconds before hurling themselves off—as gracefully as possible—and sneaking out of harm’s way. The unfortunate few were dislodged violently and dashed quick as lightning to avoid being trampled, sometimes unsuccessfully. It was both exhilarating and horrifying all at once, like one’s first Internet dating experience.

That night, sinewy ectomorph J.B. Mauney rode the bull “Unpredictable” for 88.50 points in front of 15,811 fans (but who was counting?) to win round two and move into the lead. Afterward, we hunted Mr. Mauney down to hear about his experience.

“It was pretty cool—seeing those type of people at a thing like that,” he told Shindigger, referring to the reception, where he posed with Ms. Teigen and Mr. Legend. “When we come here, people don’t really know about bull riding, but they are all about it. It’s fun being around this atmosphere.”

Despite enjoying the fanfare of the city, Mr. Mauney confessed that it’s not exactly for him. “I like being at home. I gotta have wide-open spaces,” he said in a hunky North Carolinian drawl. “It’s important to show people who have never even laid eyes on bull riding how much fun it can be to watch and follow, and what kind of sport it is. You have to kind of open people’s eyes to it.”

Unfortunately, Mr. Mauney lost in the end to Robson Palermo, who rode “Whitewater Trouble” for 90 points on Sunday afternoon to win the Championship Round with 261.50 points total. Mr. Mauney and Aaron Roy tied for second place with 260.50 points. (Truth be told, on the several nights Shindigger nestled into a box at MSG, we were clueless about the point system, fixating instead on the numbers on the riders’ future chiropractic bills.)

Professional Bull Riders Chairman and Chief Executive Officer Jim Haworth enthused over the event, which kicked off bull riding season at Madison Square Garden.“This crowd that’s here in New York City, they really embrace bull riding!” the brawny executive raved in his Oklahoma twang. “They were pumped up both nights. That encourages our riders to ride better. This really has started our season with a big bang!”

Easy for you to say, Shindigger thought—you’re not the guy being impaled by a bull horn.

blehay@observer.com

The evening was sophistication itself, with the flavor of the Champagne enhanced only by a collaborative performance from soul singer John Legend and concert pianist Lang Lang. Mr. Lang told The Observer that the duo had been preparing for the brand’s “The Power of Creation” event for three days, and their hard work undeniably paid off. The pair were the toast of the evening, and happily milled around the reception, Mr. Legend looking particularly loved up with his model fiancée Chrissy Teigen.

The tasty morsels whipped up by chef Josh Capon went down a treat, with caviar topped deviled eggs, shot glasses of Manhattan clam chowder and mini lobster sandwiches sating the guests. The church’s intimate vestibule was soon cleared in preparation for the performance, which took place in the building’s stunning hallowed hall. Mr. Legend kicked off the proceedings before being joined by Mr. Lang, with the pair creating their own take on Nina Simone’s cover of Here Comes the Sun. As the singer’s velvety tones rose to the very top of the Hispano-Moresque dome, complimented perfectly by Mr. Lang’s lightning speed tinkling, guests swayed dreamily to the music (most likely due in part to the free flowing champers). Church pews had been removed in favor of black leather seats, which added to the evening’s comfortable elegance.

Guests were also treated to a rendition of All of Me, a song from Mr. Legend’s forthcoming album. He told The Observer, “I’m really excited about the new record, and I feel like it’s coming together beautifully.” Scheduled for completion at the end of the year, the Grammy Award winner has been working with friend and collaborator Kanye West, who also assisted with the creation of his first two records, to produce the new album, which “thinks about what it’s like to be a soul singer in this modern context. We’re in an era where soul music is pushed aside in the landscape of popular music,” he continued. So how does he keep the genre alive? “You keep making the music, but are always thinking about how you can keep it fresh and new and exciting.”

Mr. Legend cut a debonair figure in a suit and bow tie at the sultry event, which was worlds away from his time spent handing out food supplies in Far Rockaway on Saturday. “I didn’t do much,” he said – such modesty! – “but it was crazy to see how things are there when I live in New York and all we had was a power outage.”

As the guests were seated for dinner at a beautifully laid table in the church’s hall, the chatter and laughter continued late into the evening, with glasses of Dom being filled up quicker than attendees could drain them. As the event drew to a close, we tottered out onto the streets of Park Ave filled with delight after a fabulous evening, mixed with just a hint of dread at the thought of the next morning’s fizz induced fuzziness.

Seal in '06. Those were the days.

Gregory Spock is used to performing librettos before rapt audiences in concert halls from Hartford to Florence. Recently, the 26-year-old has found more intimate venues within the exposed-brick walls of New York townhouses. A Roland keyboard or a baby grand to his right, a pink bow tie around his neck, a songbook in his hands—Verdi always wows `em—Mr. Spock delivers bursts of baroque beauty, all for salesmanship.

Mr. Spock joined Manhattan brokerage Rubicon Property four months ago, after receiving his broker’s license in the winter. He said his new boss liked him for his creativity, which means saving money on those showings.

“A lot of people have food or wine now, but the entertainment isn’t thought out.”

Because who isn’t lulled into signing a multi-million dollar contract by the plaintive moans of Aida?

During last decade’s real estate boom, the real estate party, usually in a newly built condo tower, was a staple of the industry. After the recession hit, nobody could much afford them. Now they seem to be hobbling back, along with the real estate market.

“In some ways, it’s just kind of a relief,” said the blogger-turned-flogger Joey Arak. Mr. Arak spent years penning “Hangover Reports” while he was senior editor of Curbed New York, and now he is helping to throw them. “During the downturn, there was a feeling that it was wrong to celebrate, wrong to spend money, wrong to buy real estate. Now it’s such a relief that we don’t have to worry about that anymore and can just enjoy ourselves.”

Mr. Arak said the turning point was a party last summer at Williamsburg development 58 Metropolitan, a hulking faux warehouse loft number near the waterfront. It was not very fancy, just fried chicken from Pies ‘n’ Thighs and a few kegs from Brooklyn Brewery. “But it was the first party anyone had invited us to in ages, and people were celebrating and enjoying themselves, and it was nice to know you could do that again.”

When people who know speak of real estate soirees, a blustery night on March 2, 2006 almost inevitably comes up. That was when developers Gary Barnett and Shaya Boymelgreen threw dueling parties at their respective projects—the Aldyn, then still a vacant lot on Riverside South, and 20 Pine: The Collection, one of so many odes to FiDi debauchery from that era. Uptown, Seal performed. Downtown, John Legend.

These days, revelers are more likely to find a decent cheese plate and some cocktails from hip speakeasy PDT or a food demonstration by one of Danny Meyer’s chefs and an assortment of quaffable wine. “If you’re lucky, there’s Champagne and it’s good,” said Leonard Steinberg, a top broker at Douglas Elliman. One of the big differences between the parties of today and those of yore is that in the past there were bachanals. Now we have box socials.

“I remember when the go-go dancers came out at the William Beaver House,” Mr. Steinberg said. The ugly yellow obelisk of condos was erected in the FiDi by Andre Balazs and Tamir Sapir. It fell into foreclosure last year and was converted into chintzy rentals. “When the go-go dancers come out, you know the party is over.”

By the time the designer and his crew had migrated to to Le Bain, however, the colors had drained -- the crowd, sandwiched together, wore mostly black and the bar was as dark-lit as it could be. As expected, Misshapes played New Wave standards. Leigh Lezark was wearing a Jeremy Scott skeleton dress. The designer danced behind the DJ booth. This would go on until 4:00 am.

But why was John Legend there? He seemed a tad out of place among the scrum of people dressed like 90s club kids. He was wearing a simple tan leather jacket and sipping a cocktail. He seemed apprehensive of the whole scene. It's no surprise that he had never been to Le Bain before.

"This is the first time -- I hadn't even heard of it before tonight," Legend said to The Observer. "It's cool. A lot of mohawks!"

We did a quick three-sixty. If the definition of "mohawk" was interpreted liberally than, yes, there were a lot of "mohawks." He also could have been referring to the designer's side-cropped coif, a thick block of curls resting on his skull.

John Legend told The Observer he missed much of the spree of runway shows and parties due to a scheduling conflict.

"I live in New York, but I'm always gone during Fashion Week because of the Grammys," Legend sighed.

Later, we remembered that Legend picked up three statues at the ceremony last Sunday.

nfreeman [at] observer.com | @nfreeman1234

• The always promotional Andy Cohen shills for his Real Housewives of D.C. series. It's deeper than you think? Right.
• Fellow Bravo spokeswoman Alex McCord was awake till 3am writing blogs. We saw her and Simon out earlier in the night at a U.S. Open-related event getting her drink on.
• Also at the event were Andy Roddick and John Legend, who apparently enjoyed FatBooth together. (FatBooth is an iPhone app that makes your face look 100 to 200 pounds fatter.) Brooklyn Decker (Roddick's wife) wasn't there, but she noticed the shenanigans that occurred. This happened before midnight, but I thought it ought to be shared.
• Social-media expert Rachel Sklar retweeted a funny comment about fashion faux pas.
• Idiosyncratic punctuater 50 Cent was tweeting up a storm, as is his wont. The two best ones: he rages against a "funky bitch," and then he calms down.

That's all I've got for today. Follow the Observer on Twitter, please. Thanks.

Once, long ago, 20 Pine was supposed to be one of the great condos in one of New York’s great neighborhoods. Power, possibility, comfort, captivation, imagination, sophistication and sublimity were name-dropped in just the first two paragraphs of the foreword to the condo’s faux-magazine marketing brochure, illustrated with shots of crocheted Ferrari driving gloves and onyx Bulgari cuff links.

Then, according to pitiless Internet reports and livid lawsuits, 20 Pine was supposed to be one of the great New York condo catastrophes. “All I am telling you is that you’re about to lose a million dollars,” one of the buyers who tried to walk away from his deal was told, according to a phone transcript, “and we’re gonna have a million dollars that you now don’t have anymore.”

But as the building gets closer to its June completion, 20 Pine is shaping up to be something else entirely: Just a building. And it’s actually kind of nice.

AS MR. SHVO tells it, he was talking with Shaya Boymelgreen in Brooklyn in December 2004 when the developer asked what he thought about 20 Pine, the old Chase Manhattan Bank offices. “Shaya,” Mr. Shvo told him, “I don’t want to throw you a quick answer. Once I get out of Brooklyn, I’ll have my driver bring me to the building.”

Mr. Shvo called back 20 minutes later: “Buy the building.” Mr. Boymelgreen and the Israeli diamond billionaire Lev Leviev, who had been introduced to one another by a top-ranking Chabad-Lubavitch rabbi during a kosher cruise, paid $142 million.

Thirteen months later, when Mr. Shvo began selling 20 Pine: The Collection, he had an 8,000-square-foot on-site sales office with a 45-foot replica of Giorgio Armani’s Milan runway. The illuminated glass catwalk, like the building’s subtitle, reminded the world that Armani/Casa had done 20 Pine’s interior design.

“I said, ‘I want a fashion brand to design this building.’ Of course, everyone thought I was crazy, but I’d heard that before,” Mr. Shvo said this week. “I—and this is on the record—fully take credit for real estate and fashion: We were the first ones to do it and it’s a worldwide trend. I’m standing right now in Dubai. … I’m literally standing and looking at the Armani Hotel.”

To be fair, the marketing doyenne Louise Sunshine is widely credited as the first real estate marketer to exploit fashion. But Ms. Sunshine had never hired John Legend, who played 20 Pine’s opening party in March 2006 after winning his first Grammy. “Made us look like true superstars,” Mr. Shvo said. Nor had she ever proposed keeping a condo sales office open 24 hours to suit late-night visits. “Nobody said anything; they didn’t know if I was kidding or if I was serious. And, sure enough, I was serious,” Mr. Shvo recalled. “If I needed to create what would be the landmark residential building in the Financial District, I needed to create something 100 percent sexy.” He is the type of man who speaks about percentiles of sexiness without giggling.

The conversion was the first massive, self-serious project in a neighborhood with gobs of rich young things to lure, even if Mr. Boymelgreen’s kooky Philippe Starck–designed condo on Broad Street had come before, or if Wall Street’s Cipriani Club Residences began sales around the same time. “We know where they shop, where they eat, what cars they drive,” Mr. Shvo said about 20 Pine’s potential buyers this week. “We know everything from the Social Security number to the color of their underwear.”

Except for a Wall Street Journal columnist who sniggered about getting a membership card after visiting the condo for a sales pitch—“as if by merely showing up I had joined an exclusive club”—the press coverage dripped with giddiness. By September 2006, the condo’s 409 units were reportedly almost 70 percent sold. The next year, Page Six wrote that Jennifer Aniston was buying a 20 Pine unit, and had been bribing construction workers to take her up in the elevator.

“Buy into the financial district while (if?) you still can,” Time Out New York said in April 2007.

THAT WAS THE April Mr. Boymelgreen gave a snippy quote to the The Miami Herald about his partner, Mr. Leviev. Their falling-out had begun, and a divorce was confirmed in the Jewish Daily Forward that July: “Whatever we have obligations to finish together, we are finishing together,” one of the billionaire’s associates said. “Wherever we have no obligations to finish together, we will not finish together.”

Money became a problem. A month later, the real estate blog Curbed wrote that 20 Pine’s construction had been halted. At the end of the year, the Daily News reported that Ms. Aniston was buying elsewhere.

Then things got really nasty. Last May, a State Supreme Court judgment reportedly ordered 20 Pine to refund a buyer’s $229,500 deposit (plus interest) after officials didn’t appear at a closing. Three months later, news broke that Mr. Boymelgreen was named in a lawsuit from a Brooklyn-based buyer who wanted to get out of a contract to buy 10 apartments. “You’re playing games with me,” Boymelgreen associate Ari Schwabbel, the president of the 20 Pine condo board, told the buyer last June, according to a phone transcript filed in court records. The two were arguing about handwriting on a contract.

“You know what handwritten means to me?” Mr. Schwabbel said.

“What?” said the buyer.

“Nothing.”

“Who are you? You are the authority of Pine Street?”

“Yes,” said Mr. Schwabbel. Then later: “Because you know that you’re bullshitting me.”

“Me? Bullshitting you?” said the buyer. “Are you joking?”

“All the best,” Mr. Schwabbel said before the call ended with a dial tone. “All I am telling you is that you’re about to lose a million dollars.”

Mr. Shvo was named in that lawsuit as well. “You’re talking about a country where if they sue somebody, they sue everybody,” he said Sunday. “They sue their broker, they sue their grandmother.”

Yoram Nachimovsky, an attorney who has worked with that buyer, said this week that he has two other clients at 20 Pine who are considering lawsuits. “My feeling is that the building is not up to snuff,” he explained. “I don’t believe that the building is Armani, O.K.? In other words, it’s sort of like if you take a Louis Vuitton in from Chinatown and say it’s a Louis Vuitton—it’s not.”

“It’s coming out very, very close to what was in renderings,” Mr. Shvo said. “I mean, look, if you put things in perspective, the only issue in the building is that there were construction delays. … Of course it pissed me off, but besides me taking a hammer and starting to build—which, unfortunately, even that wouldn’t do at that point—I have to count on someone else to deliver the product.”

But there have been other issues besides construction delays. This January, word spread that a group called Venture Capital Properties was sending letters to potential investors advertising a 51.5 percent discount if the remaining 80 units were bought in bulk. “The price of this property is the exact amount the developer owes the banks, and he will not sell it for less than the remaining debt,” their letter claimed.

“I can say right now, we’re the only ones who represent properties in the building,” Mr. Shvo said this week, his voice low. “We’ve sent several cease-and-desist letters.”

In February, when news broke that another buyer was suing to get back a deposit on her $925,000 condo, the building announced it would halt work on its unfinished amenities space. Money had apparently run out. That month, a cover story in Barron’s (“Manhattan’s luxury real-estate market is rotting”!) opened with an image of Michael Shvo on a rain-drenched afternoon. “20 Pine is starting to look,” the magazine said, “like just another victim of New York’s luxury-housing bust.”

“HERE’S THE THING,” said Deborah DeMaria, a Manhattan real estate broker who spent $3.755 million on units in the building. “I have never lived in a new building that’s been on time. This is my third new construction. Not one was on time.”

Ms. DeMaria, who is on 20 Pine’s condo board, doesn’t have much sympathy for the building’s homeowner association, which has complained about delays, poor communication and, for example, loud air conditioning or bad flooring in their units. In February, the group put an attorney named Adam Leitman Bailey, whose Web site has separate sections for his print and TV appearances, on retainer.

Owners in 73 units have joined the association, according to one tally. Mr. Bailey, whose office happens to overlook 20 Pine, would not comment, although he once told the Post that he’s negotiated price cuts for clients at 20 Pine that were as big as 40 percent.

“He’s an ambulance chaser. He’s trying to get business, and I don’t begrudge him that,” Ms. DeMaria said. “They have a lot of people stirred up, I guess, thinking they can get out of their contracts or get their money back. But I don’t want to do that. I want to live.”

Michael Lukasek, a vice president at Goldman Sachs who works in hedge funds, and who bought a place in the disastrous Financial District condo 25 Broad before buying at 20 Pine, isn’t a member of the homeowners association. “To me, these are people who are going to bitch and moan,” he said.

But changes have come. Mr. Leviev’s Africa Israel USA and a lender, Richard Mack’s Apollo Real Estate Advisors, both put more money into the project earlier this year, which Mr. Boymelgreen couldn’t or wouldn’t do. “Thank God they did,” Mr. Schwabbel, the Boymelgreen executive from those phone transcripts, conceded this week. “They sort of came across as everyone’s savior.”

In February, The Real Deal reported that Africa Israel USA had taken over control of 20 Pine’s management and sales. Construction on the building’s long-delayed, massive amenities space has begun again, and is scheduled to be finished by June. A tour this Sunday of 20 Pine’s 60-foot-long pool, his-and-hers sauna, juice bar and massage rooms show that they’re well on their way. The 25th-floor terrace already looks suave, with its sparkling reflecting pool and perfect view of AIG’s American International Building a few doors down on Pine Street.

But it was in the gargantuan library off the gleaming lobby that the homeowners association met last month with Africa Israel’s new CEO, Richard Marin, formerly Bear Stearns’ asset management chief. It was a chance to air complaints, and Mr. Marin listened. According to one account, an owner who had invested her savings in a 20 Pine unit and had lost her job cried.

Africa Israel agreed to cede a seat on the condo board to a representative from the homeowners association. “I recently won a special election, and will be formally joining the 20 Pine Board this month,” Robert Karicod told The Observer this week. But buyers won’t be taking over the building quite yet: The sponsor still has a majority on the board.

“I’VE HAD A great experience,” Anthony Berlet, a handsome, sturdy New Jersey plastic surgeon, said this Sunday in his $2.7 million apartment. He’s in the homeowners association, but he’s happy with 20 Pine, especially now that the amenities spaces are almost done. “I can tell you that my home in New Jersey is your traditional Georgian McMansion–type place, and when I went here, it was sleek and different; it fit the idea of having a different personality in the city.”

Dr. Berlet, who specializes in “noses and breasts,” put a massive Roberto Dutesco photograph of horses up in his living room, where the walls are lined in grass cloth. “Grass cloth has an Asian theme,” he said. “Armani has an Asian feel—an Asian-modern-eclectic type thing.”

Mr. Shvo would weep with pride. “The fact that the market changed, we are all aware,” the marketer said. “But that does not say that people are still not interested in lifestyle. Maybe they’re willing to pay less money for it, maybe they’re looking more for value than they were, maybe they’re not as quick to open their wallets, but in every economy, they want lifestyle.”

He shivered when asked if 20 Pine typified a kind of aspiration marketing that no longer exists, not to mention a neighborhood that’s now universally loathed. “We’re the only company out there,” Mr. Shvo said, “that still believes that luxury is still out there.”

And yet 20 Pine has those 80 units left, and only one of its nine penthouses has sold. A second, according to Shvo’s regional sales director, Marc Palermo, is in contract. One source said a bulk deal could still happen, though the price would have to be much higher than those Venture Capital numbers. Africa Israel contemplated holding a one-day sale next month with discounts somewhere between 10 and 50 percent, though that sale will likely be put off.

“There’s not going to be a one-day sale,” Mr. Shvo said. “I’m in Dubai; there are places here that I can tell you people will never go. But this is still Manhattan. Wall Street! Until they shut down the stock market people will still want to live there.” He tends to be brash in interviews, but sometimes his voice gets tender. “I truly believed in the Financial District,” he said. “And, in my mind, this is still one of the largest concentrations of wealth in the world.”

“Now that’s a view, man. That’s a nice thing to look at,” Dr. Berlet said on Sunday, looking out his window in black clogs, black Diesel jeans and a black, long-sleeve shirt. “You own it. You sit right down and you own it.”

mabelson@observer.com

That was one attendant’s take in the bathroom line at a Thursday night, April 2, soiree hosted by Curbed, the neighborhood blog of cheeky record, and The Edge, the largest new condo in Brooklyn, being developed by Douglaston Development.

Early in the evening, amid model condos, cucina from local pizzeria Motorino and lubrication complements of Brooklyn Brewery, out popped a certain 2006 ebullience. There used to be, in Manhattan and Brooklyn in particular, condo promotion parties like this every other day. (This reporter remembers when John Legend and Seal sang at different parties on the same night, one in the Financial District, one on the Upper West Side.) 

But the parties don’t happen quite as much any more, of course—actually, barely at all. Lehman Brothers saw to that. And Bear Stearns. And the boys in D.C.

The Edge party, at the condo’s Kent Avenue sales office, actually happened the same day as several Manhattan housing market reports reiterated just how bad things have gotten in the housing market, with sales dropping precipitously in the first three months of 2009. 

But that was just coincidence, the Edge party and the market reports. And the reports were about Manhattan anyway. This was Brooklyn. More to the point: This was Williamsburg, the genesis kernel of Brooklyn chic.

The crowd, including brokers, was young and, in some lapidary cases, beautiful, rendering the “Please Do Not Touch the Models” warnings slapped on the miniature condo details achingly ironic. It’s what you might expect for a Williamsburg party, condo promo or otherwise. And, good for Douglaston, it’s perhaps the kind of clientele a fresh New York condo would want to attract: young oftentimes equals virginal (e.g., first-time buyers). 

“We are seeing a lot more activity on the lower end of the market, the starter market, with a lot of action on studios and one-bedroom apartments,” Corcoran Group chief executive Pam Liebman told The Observer on Thursday.

The Edge’s 550 or so condos (some have been combined) run from $750 to $1,300 a square foot; and the development also includes 347 rental apartments and 60,000 square feet of retail. It also has a colorful advertising history, as these things go, including the famed election-themed billboard splash: “Sarah Palin, Live Here, See Wall Street.” 

Lockhart Steele, Curbed’s dapper publisher, brandished another ad early in the party; a small, pink pin: “Live Here or Die.” It was good for a laugh, a little joy, before the rain came.

“Let’s eat, drink and be merry,” Mr. Steele said matter-of-factly, “and celebrate the warm weather, and, hopefully, the warmer real estate market.”

Collage image by Daniel Krieger via Curbed.

Today, HBO announced its lineup for the ceremony—dubbed "We Are One: The Obama Inaugural Celebration"—which the premium cable network will make available for free to nonsubscribers.

According to the press release, the event will include "historical readings" by the likes of Jamie Foxx, Queen Latifah and Denzel Washington.

The musical lineup will include performances from Beyoncé, Mary J. Blige, Bono, Garth Brooks, Sheryl Crow, Renee Fleming, Josh Groban, Herbie Hancock, Heather Headley, John Legend, Jennifer Nettles, John Mellencamp, Usher Raymond IV, Shakira, Bruce Springsteen, James Taylor, will.i.am and Stevie Wonder.

More from the release:

Ever-decorous director Brett Ratner told the press that 15-year-old Miley Cyrus’s latest single—he directed the music video—is about her ex-boyfriend, Jonas Brother Nick. [People]

Invites to the new, infamously exclusive Eldridge bar on the Lower East Side went out today—though they're apparently slightly easier to come by than owner Matt Levine would have us believe. [Down By The Hipster]

Arthur Sulzberger has been deposed by Donald Trump's lawyers, who believe the New York Times publisher's testimony will strengthen their defamation suit against TrumpNation author Timothy O'Brien. Among the "reputation damaging" allegations: Mr. O'Brien listed Mr. Trump's worth as $250 million, rather than $150 million. [P6]

Paul McCartney visited the Amagansett library with his daughter to watch a lecture called "Eric's Big Bugs" and the librarian made an obvious—but cute!—Beatles pun. [NYDN, second item]

Musician John Legend is likely dating model Christy Tiegen—the two reportedly looked very close at a Soho party for football players Kerry Rhodes and Reuben Droughns. [P6]