Courtesy W Hotel.

Remember that great Sean John ad Mark Ronson was in 10 years ago? The Observer loved that ad. Sure we could have asked the producer whether married life had changed him,  or “what’s next,” but all we really wanted to know was whether it was P. Diddy’s idea or his to let the toothpick dangle so lazily in that print advertisement we once saw ages ago in VIBE. And as electronic rockers Phantogram left the stage of Symmetry Live—the W New York-Downtown’s music concert series—we asked him.

Yeah. He didn’t remember either. As we fell asleep in his eyes, a girl with forty-three bracelets shuttled him to the DJ booth.

We were at the W for a VIP Event celebrating the traveling photo exhibition ROCKED, featuring the work of Mick Rock, the “man who shot the 70s.” He has taken every single amazing photo of every famous musician ever, and after a ruddy Brit gifted Mr. Rock with three scarves from his British scarf company, The Observer took the opportunity to ask Mr. Rock if it was true that he had the W Hotel staff rearrange his room so he could indulge his love of yoga. “Who the fuck told you that?” was all the confirmation we needed. He calmed down when he saw that both he and The Observer were wearing acid wash jean jackets and learned that his stylist and The Observer were old fencing teammates at Exeter. Egregiously we forgot to congratulate him on his truly impressive show, distraced as we were watching as our friend from Nylon hit on two unseasonably tan women at the bar.

At this point in the evening, a nice and healthy woman at the VIP reception recognized The Observer from somewhere neither of us remember and asked us if we would like to meet the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. We couldn’t tell if that was Karen O. or someone who just looked like Karen O. (it turned out it was), so we focused our terrible reporting on Nick Zinner. We’d be remiss not to mention that the lead guitarist and YYY sound-architect is the sweetest human being ever. The last time we saw him was walking out of a sushi restaurant in Williamsburg, and upon mentioning this Wednesday night, his flush of embarrassment at having been to Williamsburg at all was evident to all the semi-attractive squinting toads standing around. While Mr. Zinnner remembered the night in question, he nonetheless sternly remarked, “I don’t go to Williamsburg.” Mr. Zinner is all types of cool and so fucking adorable and a strict vegetarian who really, really, really doesn’t like Williamsburg or talking about food and seems to have lost his smile in a Town Car, but never called the driver to go back and claim it.

The host of the evening was Michaelangelo L’Acqua, a terribly charming three-piece gentleman who is the W Hotels Global Music Director. “People like Janaelle Monae get it. Das Racist doesn’t,” he informed The Observer. (Having worked with scores of musicians for various projects, Mr. L’Acqua is well-learned on the subject of musicians who behave like jerks at the slightest curtain flap of fame.) I asked if he had heard that a previous W Hotels ROCKED performer, Theophilus London, almost drowned at Miami Art Basel last week? “No. But he’ll be here later tonight if you want to ask him about it.” (Which he was, but The Observer declined to pursue this line of questioning for fear of the musician’s height and the assumed sadness behind his dark and stylish sunglasses).

As Mr. L’Acqua rose and stood handsomely to leave we went to harass non-jerk Albert Hammond Jr. and his glowering lighthouse of a girlfriend at the DJ booth. We wondered why Mr. Hammond Jr. has never played at New York’s Petty Fest (an annual concert featuring dozens of famous actors and local musicians covering Tom Petty songs for one glorious night in October) despite being close friends and sometimes band mates with almost everyone who plays it. “I know, I know,” he sighed before changing the song to something knowing yet recognizable on his iTunes playlist.

The Observer turned our attention to the actor Stephen Baldwin, seen talking without the aid of his hands to a friend of ours. Nonetheless we approached with caution because we’ve never seen a wolverine in the wild and, well, The Observer has heard its share of stories. Yet despite Mr. Baldwin’s unforgivable sartorial misstep of wearing a black undershirt under a blue button down he proved to be a sporting partygoer, telling tales of shitty concerts he’s seen with aplomb. We showed him our notebook to prove our credentials, only for him to find it littered with such hard hitting questions for the other VIPs in attendance as “Challenge Chace Crawford to arm wrestle” and “Ask Penn Badgley if he remembered when the CW was called the WB and also if he too wants to arm wrestle?”

The reception portion of the evening ended with a spill and a photo alongside Mick Rock’s fetching daughter, Nathalie Rock after which we proceeded to a tented side lot to watch the Phantogram performance. The attractive musicians only cemented our fandom, and we’re happy to report that no one drowned in anything other than a sea of free scotch and poorly designed business cards. Then again, we hear Mick Rock almost drowned in a pool of scarves.

Everyone who was anyone attended the fashion show, which included glitter, disco balls, leather bomber jackets, and something that was described by the Associated Press as an "animal-print-meets-tropical-sunset tank dress," which is burning our brains with Miami fever just trying to consider what that might look like.

Here's what you missed from the show, if you weren't lucky enough to snag a seat.

(Photos via Getty)

The Chelsea Piers fête offered pink-crusted cotton candy machines, a bored lifeguard on a tall pink chair and a sandbox where models played volleyball over a pink net. Guests ate fried chicken, biscuits, gravy, tiny hotdogs, tiny burgers, huge French fries and freezer-burned cups of Coldstone ice cream.

Guests ate—but it seems worthwhile to remember that this is a crowd for whom fast food and cheap clothes are a novelty. The meeting of style snobbery and the mass market remains a tricky business; witness the beating Cintra Wilson took for her “Critical Shopper” column mocking J. C. Penney’s fat mannequins and Middle American clientele .

As for Ms. Ronson’s designs, available free to guests from a booth at the back, they seemed popular despite being unremarkable and mostly polyester. Predictably, by the end of the evening, only Wilson-mocked size 'larges' were left in the more appealing styles.

Ms. Ronson herself wore leather shorts, bejeweled safety pin earrings and a sheer tank from the collection. She showed off a bracelet designed by her mom, but carried it in her purse—on her own wrist, she wore a tangle of friendship bracelets

She left the press enthusing over how “classy” she was in dodging questions, and how wonderful her family was in general. The Ronsons managed to engender a lot of goodwill despite proving mostly elusive. Twin sister Samantha reportedly arrived at 7:45 and dashed right in; brother Mark came at 9:30, laptop in hand, and skipped the red carpet entirely.

In the absence of the prodigy siblings (see Bazaar’s “Royal Tenenbaums”–themed photo shoot), a motley assortment of other celebrities did time along the press line. Cisco Adler gamely addressed topics that a bigger star might avoid—nude photos, ex-girlfriends. Eva Amurri rehashed her pole-dancing exploits. Sophia Bush inadvertently whacked a reporter’s tape recorder out of his hand.

“Sorry, I gesticulate a LOT,” she apologized.

Sean Lennon arrived all in white and accompanied by a beautiful girl in a translucent lace dress. Hilary Duff talked about her upcoming Gossip Girl stint, accidentally revealing to reporters that Tyra would be playing Josephine Baker. Ms. Duff praised collaborations like Ronson/Penney for making fashion “more available to America.” (The Transom salutes you, Hilary; truly you are a woman of the people.) Shrewd observers noted that Ms. Duff had brought Amazonian handlers so as to appear even tinier.

Probably the most enthusiastic guest was one of the earliest to arrive—Ann Dexter-Jones, a.k.a. Mama Ronson. She had beachy curls and a British accent, and wore sneakers and jeans with a zipper-trimmed bustier. Getting a mom talking about how great her kids are is like shooting fish in a barrel, even when the kids are famous. Ms. Dexter-Jones was delighted to chat about her children’s high I.Q.’s and the “good values” that she had instilled in them.

Samantha Ronson DJed early in the evening, a cigarette dangling from her mouth and her laptop covered in stickers for Obama, Lily Allen, England and her twin. Later, though, a band of skinny dudes took the stage, playing (among other things) a loud cover of the Mark Ronson–produced “Back to Black.” By the time they reached their second to last song, all the Ronsons (mom included) were clustered near the stage, rocking out together. New York taste together with basic fun had never looked cuter.

"Our product and what we bring to the table we feel is extremely valuable and we feel like we’re the only ones doing it, even though there are other people in the business, just like there are other basketball players who are incredible," Mr. Satsky told the Daily Transom last week.

The swanky 7,000-square-foot party spot, which had Lauren Conrad of MTV's The Hills helicoptered in for a photo op last summer, opened for its sophomore season over Memorial Day weekend, with fashionable New York Rangers forward Sean Avery reportedly manning the door on Saturday night, May 23.

Despite a sluggish world economic situation that has even the preferred summer playground of the rich and famous feeling the pinch, Mr. Satsky tried to sound optimistic about the uncertain season ahead.

"I feel this summer could be even better than last summer," he boldly predicted. "It could be something very advantageous to us, the recession. A lot of people that go to Europe may not go to Europe this year. So maybe they'll go to the Hamptons and that's where they're going to spend their extra dollars."

What's new at Lily Pond this summer? "Here's what's new—overall, nothing," Mr. Satsky admitted. Just a few tweaks. "The sound is upgraded, the seating is upgraded, the cabanas are upgraded," he said.

Heck, even the cocktail waitresses are upgraded. "My waitresses are hands-down the most beautiful waitress staff in the Hamptons," he boasted. "I handpicked them myself! And they go through a rigorous routine to do so," he added, laughing. "That's the cherry on top! They're fire."

Mr. Satsky, 31, can aggrandize with the best of them, his penchant for promotion proven by a plethora of Page Six mentions, dating back to his days at Stereo, the now-defunct West Chelsea spot he once dubbed the "Yankee Stadium for DJs."

Popular with celebrities, as well as police, Stereo unceremoniously closed in January 2008, with Mr. Satsky and his former business partner at the club, Barry Mullineaux, each going their separate ways.

Yet, its legacy lives on, if only in Mr. Satsky's vision for the future.

"When I opened Stereo in 2005, it was such a different type of venue because our music program, the West Coast style of hip-hop mixed with rock 'n' roll, was not really something that was played in the clubs regularly," Mr. Satsky said.

"The DJ AM–style of deejaying," he went on, referring to the renowned turntablist Adam Goldstein, "was not considered normal for New York City. It was the Mark Ronson era. He was the greatest and the godfather. Mark Ronson would play a record and then he would go into another record and his timing and execution was impeccable. That was the standard in New York City. Then AM came in and did this whole mash-up, scratching situation, and at Stereo, that's what we showcased every second of every night. And then every other venue bit that formula. And now all the venues today still use that formula."

Mr. Satsky said he is aiming to set an entirely new standard, à la Stereo, in September, when his newest Manhattan nightspot opens in the meatpacking district.

"Breaking ground?" asked Elon Kenchington, general manager at the Hotel Gansevoort, where Mr. Satsky was chatting with the Daily Transom one recent afternoon.

For the record, Mr. Satsky declined to get into the specific location or concept, stating only in soaring terms, "It's going to change the direction of nightlife in New York City and bring a real different flavor to the United States."

Another guy trying to change the direction of nightlife in the city is Mr. Satsky's former partner at Stereo, Mr. Mullineaux, who joined up with fellow impresario Jon Bakhshi, a.k.a. Jon B., in launching the eco-friendly themed Greenhouse nightclub in Soho last year with the stated aim of transforming the ever-wasteful hospitality industry.

Mr. Satsky, though, seemed unimpressed by his ex-associate's latest effort.

"I think that it's kind of cookie-cutter," Mr. Satsky said of Greenhouse. "They're not really looking to make a difference," he went on, rattling off a list of Mr. Bakhski's other venues, "Home, Guest House, Mr. West, Greenhouse—it's the same thing."

He added, "I don't know one person that goes there. Not one."

Naturally, Mr. Mullineaux took issue with his estranged contemporary's critique.

"Everybody goes to Greenhouse," countered Mr. Mullineaux. "It's much different than Home or Guest House, contrary to what Mike said. We're one of the only clubs in the city open seven nights a week. We do a variety of everything. Monday nights, we do all rock 'n' roll, live music acts; Friday nights, we do European house music; Tuesdays and Thursdays, we have the hip-hop and rock 'n' roll mash-ups. I bring in a lot of the old Stereo crowd in on those nights. It's a good mix."

Mr. Mullineaux suggested his former friend and colleague was still "bitter" over Stereo's shuttering. (The two haven't spoken in about a year, he said.)

"He had no say in anything," Mr. Mullineaux said, noting that Mr. Satsky was originally brought in as promotional director at Stereo, having no real ownership or equity interest in the actual business. "I had no choice but to side with the investors," Mr. Mullineaux said. "I couldn't side with him and he took it personally."

Mr. Satsky pointed out that he did own trademark rights to the Stereo brand and added that he invested in the defunct club's initial renovation. He also took credit for establishing the venue's celebrity cred. "All the high-profile guests that were there were my friends," he said.

In the aftermath of Stereo's demise, Mr. Satsky has needed to adjust his business model to better suit the way of life in far-flung East Hampton, specifically to make up for what he described as a serious supermodel gap. "We're not living in New York City, where, in a 10-block radius, there are, say, 30 supermodels," he noted. "A lot of that background beauty is not fully available in East Hampton. So, you know, we do what we can to bring in our friends from New York City."

It has been challenging, to say the least.

"Every day at Lily Pond is a miracle," Mr. Satsky told the Daily Transom. "Every one of my friends in the business urged me, 'Do not do this. Nobody's in East Hampton. You have no one to choose from. Everyone's in the south. You only have families in the east. You have some big hitters in the east, but nothing that's going to make enough camaraderie to make it successful.' I really went out on a limb to do something in East Hampton. The space, for eight years, has been tried and failed, tried and failed. We gave it our all and every day is a miracle."

After attending New York Fashion Week with her boyfriend, DJ Mark Ronson—the two attended Alexander Wang's show last week—Daisy Lowe has returned back to London a single woman.

The Daily Mail reports that Ms. Lowe, who is 19, split up with the 33-year-old Mr. Ronson last week. After walking in the PPQ show at London Fashion Week yesterday, she was seen heading back to the apartment of her closer-in-age ex, 21-year-old singer Will Cameron of the band Blondell.

The model and daughter of Gavin Rossdale was apparently late to a PPQ show yesterday due to a delayed flight from New York. And as her friends were waiting for her at the after-party, they found out she had gone to Mr. Cameron's place. 

"She went to see Will for a shoulder to cry on. She’s been really upset over the last few days after her split from Mark," one friend told the Daily Mail. Another friend said, "Daisy never lost touch with Will, and has always remained close friends with him. They have always been close, and Will was pining after her when she dumped him for Mark."

Also, after meeting the entire Ronson clan last week, Ms. Lowe reportedly told a friend, "I feel like a Ronson now. I’ve been playing with the nieces and nephews and being polite to Mark’s mum. I’m exhausted." (Honey, those Ronsons will wear anybody out.)

Meanwhile, Ms. Lowe has also been spotted about London with actor Josh Hartnett. And to make the whole thing even more confusing, Mr. Hartnett was seen leaving Bungalow 8 in London at the same time as actress Mischa Barton last night. The two were later holed up in Mr. Hartnett's hotel room.

Mark Ronson will return as the DJ for his sister Charlotte Ronson's Spring 2009 show at Bryant Park in September, after Ronson sibling Samantha took over the turntables for the past few seasons. [FWD]

Just in time for its arrival in New York, Topshop is collaborating with J. Brand on three styles of jeans and naming them after New York neighborhoods: The Brooklyn, The Manhattan, and The Nolita. (Someone should tell Topshop that two of those are boroughs.) [Vogue UK]

Donna Karan, Karl Lagerfeld and Jean Paul Gaultier will reportedly attend Sonia Rykiel's 40th anniversary of being in business in Paris in October. [WWD]

Joshua Jackson, who recently moved into an apartment in New York with Diane Kruger, is having to compromise over closet space. [Vogue UK]

Pucci executives may have hit up Paris-based designer Peter Dundas of Revillon to fill Matthew Williamson's former position of creative director. [WWD]

A new exhibit titled Gothic: Dark Glamour, curated by museum director, Valerie Steele, will open at the Fashion Institute of Technology on September 4. [FWD]

There will no longer be a Sean John runway show this September. Instead, Sean "P.Diddy" Combs will host a private preview of the Spring/Summer 2009 collection at his Sean John homebase at 1710 Broadway. [FWD]

Madonna will wear designs by Givenchy, Stella McCartney, Yves Saint Laurent, Roberto Cavalli, and Jeremy Scott, as well as custom-made Miu Miu shoes, for her Sticky Sweet tour. [WWD]

Victoria Beckham is a descendent of Carl Heinrich Pfaender, a German revolutionary, Communist, and close friend to Karl Marx. [Reuters]

Daughter of Gavin Rossdale and Mark Ronson-dater Daisy Lowe is obsessed with her all-in-one sailor striped jumpsuit by Marc by Marc Jacobs. [The Cut]

V Man, the male counterpart to the monthly V magazine, has gone from being bi-annual to a quarterly. The cover of this month's V Man was shot by Hedi Slimane. [FWD]

According to various tabloid reports, Daisy Lowe, 19, Gavin Rossdale's daughter from his first marriage to singer turned fashion designer Pearl Lowe, and Mr. Ronson have been dating for a couple of months.

"Sam is an amazing girl. The four of us had a brilliant time—a real laugh," Ms. Lowe told the paper. "Lindsay is really down to earth. Her and Sam make a lovely couple—they seem really happy. Their relationship is totally genuine. And they're just so sweet together. Mark totally approves."

She went on to say something about how she'd like to see them again, but they live in L.A., blah, blah. ...

We admit, it's a stretch to confirm their relationship through Ms. Lohan's girlfriend's older brother's girlfrend—huh?—but at this point we'll take it.

Ethan Hawke can't get out of jury duty. [P6]

Gabriel Byrne studied Charlie Rose, Bill Moyers, and Dick Cavett to prepare for his role as a therapist on In Treatment. [Daily Intel]

Tom Ford is upset that Britain's GQ Style censored all the carefully arranged penises next to his essay about, well, censorship of the penis. [The Cut]

Michelle Obama will co-host the June 18th episode of The View. [US Weekly]

Mark Ronson on summer camp: "I got there, and with my fear of heights, found all the lower bunks were taken. I was afraid of complaining and being forever known as a p - - - -, so I just swallowed it. I remember going to bed the first time and waking up in the middle of the night just in time for everything to go black as I hit the ground. The camp doctor . . . sent me right to the hospital, proudly telling me, 'We don't [bleep] around with head injuries, son.' " [P6]