Cindy Sherman. (Adriel Reboh/Patrick McMullan)

“Look who it is: it’s Edwina, the Edwina,” Isaac Mizrahi exclaimed to The Observer this past Saturday, as he approached Edwina von Gal, the designer who, Ross Bleckner told us, “did the landscaping at my house in Sagaponack.”

We were at Cindy Sherman’s new East Hampton home at a benefit for the Azuero Earth Project, the Panama-based ecological nonprofit of which Ms. von Gal is president. It was a cozy beginning-of-the-end to the Hamptons summer season. Guests sat on benches under a white tent to eat empanadas and watch performances by Suzanne Vega, Rufus Wainwright, Laurie Anderson and Lou Reed. Children climbed into pendulous bamboo cocoons, stuffed with pillows, that swayed from the trees.

“I live just up the road,” Ms. Vega, who had been asked at the last minute to replace Rubén Blades, told us. “I originally came as a guest of Laurie’s, and I thought I was going to see Rubén Blades!” Wearing a top hat—a “tip of the hat to Marlene Dietrich”—Ms. Vega performed “Marlene on the Wall” and “Gypsy,” written when she was a “folk-singing and disco-dancing counselor” at a summer camp in the Adirondacks. She had M.C. Bob Balaban serve as an impromptu music stand, holding a handwritten lyric sheet for a new Dylan-inspired number about the tarot’s Queen of Pentacles.

“I probably shouldn’t have kissed her,” Mr. Balaban confided to us afterward. “It’s rude to kiss somebody you’ve just met.” Mr. Balaban told us about his upcoming appearance as Lena Dunham’s psychiatrist on Girls, and recommended we visit Jackson Pollock and Lee Krasner’s former home down the road. “It’s just a little hut,” he explained. “They didn’t have any money.” (We read that Ms. Sherman paid $4.65 million for her estate, though we weren’t invited inside.)

Gorgeous in two shades of blue mufti (a baby blue wrap over a navy dress), the chameleonic Ms. Sherman told us that though she had just moved in a month ago, “There’s just a few little things that need to be tweaked, but I’m pretty settled.” Was this party a little housewarming, then? “A big housewarming,” she corrected us. Ms. Sherman also talked about transplanting her career retrospective from New York’s Museum of Modern Art to San Francisco’s MOMA, where it’s currently on view. “The space is different; it was hard to edit out some of the work.”

We watched Gina Gershon and Martha Stewart, both in pre-Labor Day white, run around taking pictures, and stood by as Mr. Mizrahi introduced Mr. Bleckner to his husband, Arnold Germer.

“We’re married, you know,” said Mr. Mizrahi.

“I didn’t know!” Mr. Bleckner replied

“Now we’re moving in together,” Mr. Germer went on.

“That’s exactly what married people do!” Mr. Bleckner pointed out. “Usually it’s the step before, but I guess you’re playing it safe.”

Messrs. Germer and Mizrahi (whose bandana matched that of Bruce Weber, also in attendance) weren’t the only couple at the party to have taken advantage of New York’s new same-sex marriage laws. David Maupin and Stefano Tonchi brought their twin girls, Maura and Isabella.

We asked Mr. Tonchi about changes at The New York Times’s T Magazine, which he left two years ago to edit W, specifically about the recent departure of his successor, Sally Singer. “Oh, please. Old news,” Mr. Tonchi answered summarily.

Mr. Wainwright brought his husband, Jörn Weisbrodt, whom he had married the week prior. He opened his performance with what he called a “really Hamptons-y song about a bored housewife ... which I have become. Love it!” Later, he sang about his own Hamptons domesticity in “Montauk”: “This next song is about my daughter, Viva Katherine Wainwright Cohen, and also my incredible new husband, Jörn Weis-” he caught himself and laughed. “Jörn Wainwright. Or Rufus Weisbrodt, however you do it. In fact, his name is Weisbrodt, which means ‘white bread’ in German, and what is it, there’s something about a honeymoon? In Dutch, a honeymoon is called a ‘white bread,’ white bread weeks. You can get fat, basically, now that you’re married.”

Lou Reed, married for four years but with his wife for a decade prior, came off a little less enchanted. “Are you done? Jesus. And we’re related,” Mr. Reed muttered jokingly, as Laurie Anderson plugged in her violin next to him, generating a loud electronic buzz.

“I would cut my legs and tits off/When I think of Boris Karloff,” Mr. Reed sang, in a song from last year’s much-maligned Metallica collaboration Lulu. He next performed a monologue in the voice of his mentor Andy Warhol: “Lou Reed got married and didn’t invite me ... you know I hate Lou, I really do.”

Ms. Anderson performed a monologue of her own, about observing the Amish in Western Pennsylvania—“Gee, I wonder what it’s like to live that way,” she mused—which nearly cleared the tent, though her political criticism drew some laughs. “Ever since hearing Clint Eastwood talk about optimism the other night at the Republican Convention,” Ms. Anderson narrated, her voice electronically shifted several octaves down, accompanied by slow synth chords, “I actually became extremely pessimistic about the future. I mean, look at the odds for a second. You have more chance of getting hit and killed in a car crash than dying in a plane crash.” (Here, she lost us again.)

As the wind off of Accabanac Harbor picked up (“I’m getting the best hairdo of my life thanks to this body of water,” Mr. Wainwright joked), guests began to wrap their shoulders in complimentary green picnic blankets.

Patrizia Pinzon, visiting from Panama, bemoaned the absence of Mr. Blades, the one Panamanian who had been scheduled to perform. “Everybody’s here, but they don’t know what it’s about.”

Well, technically they never went anywhere. They've just "decentralized," as one organizer put it. But yesterday's march gathered thousands to the street as labor unions once again rallied in solidarity with OWS in a ""March for Jobs and Economic Fairness," organized by the Central Labor Council. Ah, it's good to hear those General Assembly names once again!

The path was an odd one: Herald Square to Union Square to Zuccotti Park, where a G.A. meeting was held at its nightly 7:00 time slot. Then back uptown to hear the 10:30 speech on the steps of Lincoln Center, where Philip Glass was the guest of honor, performing  his piece Satyagraha, in honor of Ghandi. . Lou Reed and Laurie Anderson were there too! You'd usually have to pay well over $200 for a musical lineup like that, but for tonight it was free.

Even so, that's a lot of marching, but it's good to get the blood flowing and remind people that you're still around, despite Media Blackout 2.0 on New York's own OWS. Good job for everyone involved, and mind those barricades that the police had set up well in preparation for the event. This weekend, Occupy Broadway is going back to Times Square, which, if nothing else, should bring about enough arrests to get the country to start paying attention to the NYC movement again.

Sean Avery

Wednesday, June 22

Foxy Ladies

Opera—it’s not just for opera houses anymore! We had enough to keep up with between the Met and the City Opera (O.K., we mainly kept up with the Met), but more and more, we’re hearing of opera performances put on by orchestras (the skill set’s not too different, one supposes …). The New York Philharmonic today begins its run of The Cunning Little Vixen, an opera by the Czech composer Leoš Janáček about the life of that Playmate who almost married Hugh Hefner last week. Not really—it’s based on an old-timey comic strip and tells the adventures of a lady fox out in the woods. It’s all very children’s TV, between a set strewn with giant sunflowers and the Cats-y costumes. And we’ll take those singing mosquitoes over the stinging kind any day.
Avery Fisher Hall, 10 Lincoln Center Plaza, performances daily through June 25, tonight’s curtain at 7:30 p.m.; visit nyphil.org for tickets and information.

Thursday, June 23

Slow Boat to China

Talk about a cultural revolution—Shen Yun Performing Arts, a troupe devoted to preserving traditional Chinese art forms (tagline: “five thousand years in the making”), is coming to Lincoln Center. Donna Karan’s Urban Zen initiative (om) is presenting a private premiere party inside the Koch Theater with the likes of socialite Anne Bass, Velvet Undergrounder Lou Reed and pajama aficionado Julian Schnabel. Now that Anna Wintour’s been to China—trailing Richard Nixon by just a few decades—we feel suddenly trendy indulging a taste for traditional dance and music, while simultaneously sticking it to the commies. Ni hao!

David H. Koch Theater, 20 Lincoln Center Plaza, performance at 7 p.m., reception at 9 p.m.;  private event.

Friday, June 24

Sorority Girls

College! Who doesn’t miss the days when we could alternate fancy little cotillions and nights in the stickiest-floored fraternity houses without any guilt? (These days, sad to say, it’s all cotillions.) A ball in Brooklyn’s Grand Prospect Hall hosted by Alpha Kappa Alpha, the oldest African American Greek sorority around, invites us to go back to school—without those pesky final exams. The gala benefits the Ivy Rose Foundation, which supports Brooklyn schools. These sorority ladies take themes seriously, too: the “Pink and Green Ball”—so preppy!—encourages its guests to don 1920’s-style garb, and guests will enjoy live music and casino games. Grand

Prospect Hall, 263 Prospect Avenue, 8 p.m.; visit pinkandgreenball.org for tickets and information.

Saturday, June 25

Ball Versus Ball

It’s a battle of the blowouts in the Hamptons, as the 15th annual Heart of the Hamptons Ball faces off against the 16th annual Artists Against Abuse Gala (a year more venerable, but who’s counting?). The Heart of the Hamptons Ball benefits the American Heart Association, while Artists Against Abuse helps fund the Retreat, a domestic violence services group. Worthy causes both! Here’s where they diverge—the Heart of the Hamptons Ball is a generic, if lovely, affair, with cocktails and dancing, at the Hayground School. The Artists Against Abuse Gala is at a school as well, the Ross School—but in a feat of group imagination, and nautical decor, the crowd is asked to pretend they’re on a “luxurious yacht.” That would seem to give the edge to Artists Against Abuse, but the Heart of the Hamptons has a trump card: honoree Star Jones. How ever will we choose?!

Heart of the Hamptons Ball, Hayground School, 151 Mitchells Lane (Bridgehampton), 6 p.m., call (631) 734-2804 for tickets and information; Artists Against Abuse Gala, Ross School Lower Campus Field House, 739 Butter Lane (Bridgehampton), 6 p.m.; call (631) 329-4398 for tickets and information.

Sunday, June 26

Animal Husbandry

Today brings the final performance of the New York Classical Theatre’s production of Molière’s comedy of gender relations School for Husbands in Central Park. This isn’t a Shakespeare in the Park–style seated experience, no sir—attendees have to follow the actors on a ramble through paths and over bridges. And we thought keeping up with Molière’s verse was challenging enough! … Meanwhile, the West Village gastropub the Spotted Pig throws a party for gay pride. We’re trying to fit into our swimsuit, so no pork shoulder for us—but we will indulge in a few drinks. The parade ends in the West Village, so it’s a quick stroll over, a distance of about five leather-clad bikers.

New York Classical Theatre, Central Park at West 103rd Street and Central Park West, performance begins at 7 p.m., free and open to the public, visit newyorkclassical.org for information. The Spotted Pig, 314 West 11th Street; visit thespottedpig.com for information.

Monday, June 27

Smooth Like Putter

For those whose work schedules don’t demand complete adherence to fuddy-duddy, old “five-day weeks”—or those who have forsworn work for leisure altogether!—there’s a golf tournament in the Hamptons today that’s really calling your name. It’s the Hamptons Golf Classic! Beachfront impresario Zev Norotsky founded the tournament, which pairs celebrities with the well-heeled and sends them out to tee off on one another! We’re hoping to get placed in a foursome with New York Ranger Sean Avery—though we’d settle for Landry Fields of the Knicks. Why do athletes want to ruin their Hamptons weekends with sports during the off-season? Never mind—it’s just golf!

Hampton Hills Golf and Country Club, County Road 31 (Westhampton), arrivals at 10 a.m., shotgun start at 11 a.m., cocktails upon conclusion at 4:30pm, call (917) 232-2355 for information.

Tuesday, June 28

Rabbit Season

The Sanctuary Hotel’s in a “soft opening” phase—why does everything have to take so long! But in the meantime, Patrick McMullan is throwing a little shindig there, along with kooky South African graffiti artist David Foox, both of whom are contributing work on the theme "The Year of the Rabbit.” And here we thought it was the year of the dirty dog (yes, Rep. Weiner, we’re still talking about you). … By the way, we’re still so embarrassed for Brooke Shields after she compounded a minute-long line flub at the Tonys with an apology that had to be censored for profanity. (That never happened on Suddenly Susan!) Moving forward! The actress is set to take the lead role from Bebe Neuwirth in The Addams Family, that mysteriously unkillable Broadway show. Now that Spider-Man appears to have become a model of safety, Ms. Shields’s star turn is the riskiest, most daring ticket in town!

The Year of the Rabbit reception, Sanctuary Hotel, 132 West 47th Street, 6 p.m., cocktails and hors d’oeuvres served; private event. The Addams Family, Lunt-Fontanne Theatre, 205 West 46th Street, curtain at 7 p.m.; visit theaddamsfamilymusical.com or the box office for tickets and information.

Wednesday, June 29

Summer Loving

This summer, we’re hoping for a fling—a bit of romance to break up the humid, nasty dog days of summer. The uniquely capitalized gallery fordPROJECT allows us to live vicariously with the exhibit Summer Affair, commencing today. The group show features works by the photographer Manuela Paz and light artist Virginia Overton, among others, but the overarching narrative of the show is more striking (or seasonally appropriate) than any of the art. One is meant to imagine oneself in an apartment shared by two collectors who are carrying on an affair—that the whole thing takes place in an actual West Side penthouse is all the better (though we’re not sure how fordPROJECT can verify its claim that the apartment was once owned by real-life “passionate and tragic lovers”—aren’t they all passionate and tragic in this town?).

fordPROJECT, 57 West 57th Street, floors 19 and 20, opens today, from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m.; visit fordproject.com for information.

At first, a bit of a spat between the two arose from Reed's reluctance to grant Boyle permission to cover "Perfect Day," the classic ballad that anchors Reed's solo debut Transformer. A source told The Sun that Lou "didn't like" Boyle's performance. Then, in an interview with Piers Morgan, Boyle called Reed "childish." For those holding out hope for a collaboration, the situation seemed dire. 

But last night, it was revealed that the pair was no longer fighting, and had indeed became quite chummy. Reed even agreed to travel to Ireland and helm the video for "Perfect Day," which premiered last night. 

"I loved that Lou understood how much it meant to me to film in Scotland," Boyle told the Daily Record. "I didn't mind how much it rained or blew a gale — I enjoyed every minute."

Let's jut hope that this new creative team stays together long enough to collaborate on some of Reed's Velvet Underground material. Can't wait to hear your version of "Heroin," SuBo!

nfreeman [at] observer.com | @nfreeman1234

On Tuesday afternoon, Sept. 15, the day before a private funeral service for family and friends, some New Yorkers who knew Carroll shared their memories of him with the Transom.

“Jim was a true poet in anything he did,” said Lenny Kaye, guitarist and longtime collaborator of singer Patti Smith, also one of Carroll’s close friends. “From the most prosaic daily occurrence to the height of metaphysical learning, he could expound on all of them with equal ease and brilliance.”

“He was such a part of the weave of the New York tapestry,” said another friend, Anne Waldman, poet and former director of the Poetry Project at St. Mark’s Church, the storied venue where Carroll first read on March 21, 1968, and to which Carroll’s former wife, Rosemary Carroll, has asked people to make donations in lieu of flowers.

“He was just very gracious,” said Corrine Fitzpatrick, the Poetry Project’s program coordinator, adding that Carroll was one of the main attractions at the Project’s annual New Year’s Day poetry marathon.

“One year, he took the gum out of his mouth and stuck it on the podium in the church, and fans were clamoring to peel it off,” she said. “After he read, there would be an exodus of a few hundred people who were there just to hear him speak.”

Downtown performance artist Penny Arcade, who said she first met Carroll in Chelsea in 1970, was among those who looked forward to hearing him read each year.

“He was just absolutely phenomenal,” she said.

On his Web site on Monday, rocker Lou Reed said the following of Carroll: “His books, poetry and songs set an impossibly high standard for others to follow. He was the real deal. Period. A sweetheart.”

Meanwhile, New York poet Eileen Myles recalled touring with Carroll back in 1990.

“In Milwaukee, we were staying at a very old-fashioned hotel and we decided to get ourselves some ice cream,” she said. “Jim grabbed a big butcher’s knife and cut the container down the middle. He scooped up his half and we both walked to the elevator holding the split ice cream and our spoons. As I got off on my floor, he said, ‘Now we can always say, “Hey, remember the night we split a pint in Milwaukee?”’ Every time I saw him since, we said exactly that and laughed. He was a very funny guy. Totally quick on his feet.”

Recently, Carroll, the author of The Basketball Diaries, had been working on a new novel called Triptych; his longtime editor at Penguin, Paul Slovak, said that it “tells the story of a hermetic and mystical 35-year-old painter who becomes kind of a golden boy in the late ’80s New York art world. It’s a very moving examination of spiritual bankruptcy and other themes in both art and life.”

Mr. Slovak said Carroll had turned in revisions of the first two parts of the novel, but didn’t know how far he’d gotten on the third. He said it was possible something would come of the work, pending a conversation with Carroll’s literary agent, Betsy Lerner, but that it was too soon to tell.

The two longtime friends were there for a book-signing and cocktail party celebrating the forthcoming release of Berlin, a new collection of photographs taken during Mr. Schnabel’s filming of a tour Mr. Reed did in 2007 to revive his classic 1973 album and rock opera of the same name.

One by one, enamored fans approached the duo with copies of the book and other memorabilia—vintage concert posters, black-and-white photographs, Velvet Underground LPs—that they wanted Mr. Reed, dressed in a saggy black sweater and black jeans, and Mr. Schnabel, wearing loose white pajamas, the top half of which were unbuttoned just enough to reveal a thick swath of chest hair, to autograph with shiny silver markers.

At one point, Mr. Reed reached over to fill Mr. Schnabel’s wine glass with a healthy portion of Johnnie Walker Black Label. (Perhaps the director was drowning his sorrows over the roughly $10 million worth of price cuts he’d made earlier that day to the two top-floor units of his pink Palazzo Chupi on West 11th Street.) Shortly thereafter, a friend of Mr. Schnabel’s leaned in to light him up a Parliament, which filled the otherwise sterile white room with the smell of cigarette smoke, but was extinguished rather promptly.

The Transom, to its surprise given the magnitude of both men’s work, didn’t spot many celebrities, save Mr. Reed’s wife, Laurie Anderson, who darted in around 7 p.m., and the actor Willem Dafoe, who had arrived with Mr. Reed’s and Mr. Schnabel’s entourage an hour earlier. Mr. Dafoe declined rather brusquely to chat.

"Creatives" in attendance included photographer Ralph Gibson, artist Stan Gaz, and Bill Powers, the former BlackBook editor, novelist and husband of designer Cynthia Rowley.

There was also some walking art—a slender and attractive model named Reby Sky who was covered head to toe in yellow, blue, green and pink body paint, wearing nothing but nipple rings and a nearly invisible bikini thong. She was out gallery hopping with the Rockland County, N.Y.-based body-painting artist Andy Golub, who had coated her skin.

“I love it. It’s sort of liberation through art,” said Ms. Sky of her virtually naked state before scooting off to get her copy of the book signed. The gentlemen at the party were not complaining either.

Married super-fans Lau Nielsen, 63, and Lis Braendguard, 61, had flown in all the way from Denmark for the event. They said they’d seen Mr. Reed perform dozens of times since the early ’70s, including his first-ever live performances of Berlin at St. Ann’s Warehouse in Brooklyn in December 2006. (Mr. Schnabel released Lou Reed’s Berlin, a film documenting the concerts, in January of last year.)

“I’m staying in here to have all the looks of him I can get,” said Ms. Nielsen, clutching her newly signed copy of the photographic adaptation of Berlin.

The book (Rizzoli, $45) features a rare transcription of a conversation between Mr. Reed and Mr. Schnabel. Some of its beautifully blurry images are pictures of the set Mr. Schnabel designed for the Berlin tour, and others are stills from the film. Many have passages of Mr. Reed’s verse scrawled over them in white ink, like the following line we read on an enlarged photograph hanging on the gallery’s wall:

“Staring in my picture book she looks like Mary Queen of Scots. She seemed very regal to me. Just goes to show how wrong you can be.”

jpompeo@observer.com

The film follows the recording and reception of Mr. NDour's Grammy-winning album Egypt. The album presents a peaceful side of Islam, fusing secular and spiritual traditions, and the timely screening coincided rather fortuitously with U.S. President Barack Obama’s Cairo call for tolerance.

“I wanted to make a big, beautiful, happy film about Africa that a lot of people would see,” Ms. Vasarhelyi explained. Her first film, A Normal Life, following the lives of Kosovar refugees, won first place at the Tribeca Film Festival when she was just 24.

The only person in a floor-length gown, she seemed charming if a little shy—charmingly shy!

Mr. NDour was initially reluctant to participate in the project. “In the beginning, I was really protecting my privacy, and what interested me was that she tried to have a relationship [with] the members of my family,” he told the Daily Transom. “Everybody. And by the end, the members of my family said, ‘You have to get to know her.’”

Making a documentary about a fellow artist can be tricky, but Ms. Vasarhelyi said she thought the undertaking had been a true collaboration. Of course, Mr. Nichols took a different outlook when he introduced Ms. Vasarhelyi, saying that he was tempted to quote David Mamet: “Film is a collaborative medium; bend over.”

Documentary film seemed to be the unifying theme among the unlikely mix of personalities in attendance. Portrait photographer and documentarian Timothy Greenfield-Sanders (Lou Reed: Rock and Roll Heart) posed gamely while holding up a point-and-shoot. Philippe Petit, whose 1974 walk between the former World Trade Center's twin towers was chronicled in last year’s Man on Wire, hobnobbed in solidarity with a fellow documentary subject.

“Oh, hi, guys and gals,” Dick Cavett greeted the press. “I’ve been told not to talk when my picture’s being taken,” he added, but not before swapping stories with a photographer about Marlon Brando punching people.

The subject of the most pre-arrival speculation was Lou Reed. “Lou Reed’s gotten really into it,” claimed one photographer, wryly joking about the legendary guitarist's typical red carpet antics. The grizzled speaker was a cartoon paparazzo, chomping a toothpick and wearing orange-lensed sunglasses and an earring.

“Really?” replied a colleague. “He used to be terrible.”

Indeed, he still is. She had been taken in by her colleague’s rascally wit. “The only way Lou Reed’ll pose is if Laurie tells him to,” he explained.

This prediction proved accurate. The former Velvet Underground frontman attempted to march, zombie-like, into the theater until wife Laurie Anderson coaxed him to pause. Ms. Anderson’s tremendous dimples may or may not have compensated for Mr. Reed’s stony-faced surliness.

Tolerance, it seems, is all well and good, but it only barely extends to the press.

“I think this year is just a freak year,” said the writer Salman Rushdie, during a wine-and-cheese reception at the Instituto Cervantes on Wednesday, March 25, to announce the lineup for next month’s fifth annual PEN World Voices Festival, “when just to be able to do it at all is an achievement—and especially to do it on this scale.”

Mr. Rushdie, who chairs the literary festival, which opens on April 27, said organizers had to cancel about 10 events this year. Still, the lineup includes some 160 writers in more than 60 events, with a whole batting order of household names: Paul Auster, Paul Krugman, Laurie Anderson, Rick Moody, Richard Ford, Michael Ondaatje, George Soros, even Lou Reed.

“We really are having a party, and it’s more than a party, we’re saying books still matter to people and reading still matters to people, and this is how you find out about the world,” said Caro Llewellyn, the festival’s director.

And for all those hermitlike writer types—certainly not you, Salman!—it’s especially nice to bump into one another. “Part of any festival is that it’s fun to hang out with your friends, you know, because writers are all over the place and they gather in these types of things,” said Mr. Rushdie.

Irish novelist Colum McCann put it more like, well, an Irish novelist. “I think it’s the whole idea of the international mongrels of the world, like everyone from somewhere else—no motherland, no fatherland—and we all like land in New York and here we are yelping at each other,” said Mr. McCann, who also teaches at Hunter College and is participating in this year’s festival. 

“All those late-night parties at the hotels, where everyone’s hanging out,” Mr. McCann continued.  “Why not?  It’s a bit of crack…”

Come again?

“C-R-A-I-C.  That’s an Irish term, it’s a bit of fun,” Mr. McCann clarified.

Mr. Rushdie let slip one of his own new addictions: the Kindle. “It’s kind of exciting,” he said of the ability to download a book almost instantly. He said he read Dave Eggers’ What Is The What on his Kindle (Mr. Rushdie “liked it a lot”), but insisted he only uses it when traveling. He compared digital books to the early days of audio books. “People were buying books on tape or CD, not instead of buying books, but just other extra people were buying books to hear them in the car or whatever,” Mr. Rushdie said. “I think it may be like that.”

Mr. Rushdie even tried to make the e-book appealing to the gaggle of young reporters: “You can read The New York Times on it, or you can read, I don’t know, Gawker.com, if that’s your taste.”

Wait, does the author of Satanic Verses really read Gawker?

“No, I do not,” Mr. Rushdie replied. “But there was a time when someone told me I should, so there was a point where I actually downloaded it, but I said, ‘I can’t read this,’ so I canceled it.”

Mr. Rushdie may not love Gawker, but he does think blogs testify to the young appeal of PEN World Voices. “If you look at the blogs, it’s incredible, the coverage of this festival in the blogosphere, it’s colossal and very, very positive,” Mr. Rushdie said.  “And you know, the blogs are all kids. I don’t write a blog.”

The 67-year-old former Velvet Underground frontman, clad in comfy running shoes, jeans and a gray sweatshirt, and standing with wife Laurie Anderson, simply shrugged and turned back to a video presentation that was playing—something about a big smelly sanitation facility fouling up the neighborhood.

“Come on, you should film some of this!” Mr. Reed told the reporter, waving toward the screen.

Behind them, the actor James Gandolfini loomed large in a long-sleeved gray polo shirt. “Are you giving a speech?” the Sopranos star asked the diminutive Ms. Anderson. “I don’t want to give a speech.”

They had all turned out on Monday, March 23, at a fund-raiser for the Tribeca Community Association, a neighborhood group now suing the Bloomberg administration over its nearly $500 million plan to construct a massive, 118-feet-tall garbage-truck garage and 75-feet-high salt shed at the corner of Washington and Spring streets.

Mr. Reed, in particular, has been among the plan’s most outspoken critics, lashing out at Mayor Michael Bloomberg in recent interviews with NY1 and New York magazine. He and other opponents are pushing an alternative plan to build a park on the site.

The splashy event, which also featured a brief appearance by the Oscar-winning actress Ms. Connelly and her actor husband, Paul Bettany, took place in the corporate headquarters of Saatchi & Saatchi at 375 Hudson Street—a setting that some of the famous activists found rather ironic.

“An ad agency,” Mr. Reed remarked. “You never know who you end up with.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Mr. Gandolfini agreed.

Mr. Reed gave brief remarks on behalf of the A-list opposition, many of whom only sounded off during a short video played at the party.

“I mean, enough is enough,” protested the actress Kirsten Dunst on the video, drawing a few giggles from the audience. (Ms. Dunst did not attend, though her ex-boyfriend, Beatrice Inn DJ Matt Creed, was present.)

The room was packed with politicos and neighborhood gadflies, talking zoning variances and binding resolutions in the blue-lit room, munching bruschetta and salmon-stuffed cream puffs, with legendary DJ-turned-blogger Steve Lewis spinning in the background. A smattering of partygoers sported buttons and stickers in support of former Community Board 2 chair Maria Passannante Derr, who’s taking on Council Speaker Christine Quinn in the upcoming election.

Even 80-year-old neighborhood zoning maven Doris Diether made an appearance, airing opinions over a glass of white wine (the bar wasn’t serving Champagne, her preference).

Many grumbled about Councilman Alan Gerson’s remarks at the podium. Mr. Gerson abstained from voting on Bloomberg’s sanitation plan but still railed against it at the event, to some heckling from Soho activist Sean Sweeney.

Others grumbled about the glitz. “I just came here to see the hypocrisy,” said Carl Tyndall, 29, who lives in the Bronx. “If this were in the Bronx or Brooklyn or a poor community, they can’t do this—they can’t have famous people speak up for them. … It must be nice when you have money and you can do something like this. I wish everyone could.”

Still others didn’t want to talk politics at all.

“I’m not that concerned with the environment,” said waifish blonde Cat Marnell, 24, an associate beauty editor at Lucky. A friend had invited her, and the drinks were free. “I don’t understand, I think everyone’s too angry. But I support the parks!” She added, “Jennifer Connelly shows up to too many events.”

ldepillis@observer.com

Now that Taylor Momsen and Chace Crawford have been spotted making out, we're starting to think all these Gossip Girl hook-ups are some kind of PR ploy. [P6]

Jeremy Piven is getting a little sick of people confusing him with Ari Gold. [Gatecrasher]

Giuseppe Cipriani is hiding out abroad until his family's legal troubles blow over; the Ciprianis allegedly tried to use recently fired Gov. Paterson aide Carl Andrews to strongarm the State Liquor Authority into reinstating their restaurants' liquor licenses. [P6] 

La Cave des Fondus, which opens tomorrow in Nolita, will serve its guests wine and beer in baby bottles. [Down By The Hipster]