Delightful Events

Patricia Field and Fortuna Auction co-founder Seth Holehouse (PMc)

Get Your Rocks Off: Kissing the Ring at Fortuna Auction’s Fall Fine Jewels Preview

“Did you know that only seven percent of auctioneers are women?” Liza DiNapoli asked us as she slid open a case and brought out a giant Fred Leighton ruby ring. Surrounding the inlay jewel was a blinding number of diamonds, with enough carats to feed a whole stable of luxury rabbits.

The auction director of Fortuna Auction House was explaining the difference between the type of presentation that she would be giving on November 29th, when her firm would be holding their annual Fall ‘Fine Jewels’ bidding war, and the type given by “farm auctioneers.”

“They’re the ones who talk very fast, the men who are literally ‘selling the farm,’” she said, before launching into an impression. “Fivehundredthousanddoseeeighthundredthousand… Eighthundredthousandbidderdoihaveabidder? No? SOLD!” We were impressed.

“Sometimes I wish they would let me do my British accent during the sales,” She sighed, before morphing into an uncanny Eliza Doolittle.

“Aye, governor! Buy ‘me jewelry, ‘ai?” Read More

Menace to Society

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

Menace to Society: Where Are the Hamptons, Anyway?

There’s a reason that the Hamptons Jitney is the one bus that New York’s elite will deign to place their fancy tushes on. The air-conditioned anti-Greyhound actually showed up on time Friday afternoon, and the nice lady who came to take our credit cards gave me two cartons of lemonade and a bag of Bachmann’s Party Mix.

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. Read More