Sirio Maccioni, Susan Bennett and Tony Bennett (Photo - Dustin Wayne Harris/Patrick McMullan)

A restaurant opening in the chandeliered halls of The Pierre, flagship of Taj hotels, held much promise for some unrepentant gorging, but we were tragically left empty mouthed at Sirio’s grand unveiling on Wednesday evening, with not a crumb going spare.

“We have a lot of dear friends, and a lot of people who love us,” revealed handsome and ever-so-modest director of Le Cirque Mauro Maccioni, one quarter of the Italian-American epicurean dynasty.

Flanked by the new restaurant’s namesake, his father Sirio, and restaurateur brothers Mario and Marco, the quad were undeniably the toast of the food-less feast, palpably excited about the newest extension of their empire. With the patriarch first working in The Pierre’s La Foray some 50 years ago, there was much to celebrate, with celebrities and the nipped and tucked of New York popping in to offer their cheeks for much congratulatory air kissing.

Mayor Bloomberg generously graced the party with his presence for a fraction of a second before making a quick exit, apparently having to dash to the scene of a shooting in the Bronx. Fitting so many events into one evening can be such hard work. But at least his fleeting visit actually took place within the event’s scheduled timeframe, which is more than can be said for tardy Martha Stewart. America’s favorite foodie and home perfectionist eventually arrived to lend her support to Sirio, and reveal her excitement to The Observer about her upcoming Halloween celebrations.

“I’m looking forward to Bette Midler’s annual Hulaween, of course, and am dressing up as an organic sea.”

No, we’re not too sure either. In fact, we're not even sure she remembered to invite us!

Ms. Stewart was full of praise for the Maccioni family’s restaurant kingdom, particularly given some of her own culinary misadventures. “The worst food I’ve ever eaten was fried worms,” she revealed, although this unpleasant dish was served up to her in Mexico, and not prison, as we first thought.

Leading the parade of air kissers out of the door was Ivana Trump, who was hanging languidly on the arm of her perma-tanned boy toy throughout the evening.

“I know Sirio many years,” she drawled, having forced us into a secluded corner of the room to impart these words of wisdom.

The man of the hour, the elder Maccioni, clearly had quite the selection of groupies, although repeatedly forcing him out of his seat and into photos at times felt like a little bit too much. But the octogenarian remained reasonably upbeat throughout the evening, more so than we managed, although we might have fared better had we actually been given something to eat. Instead, we gobbled up all the people watching moments, which with the likes of Tony Bennett, Jean Shaffirof, Amy Fine Collins,  Somers Farkas, Sophie Theallet and Amy Sacco, left us pretty full anyhow.

Ms. Theallet’s longtime seamstress was at a sewing machine nearby. The place was filled with books, black-and-white photographs, African and South American travel trinkets, a fish tank and rolls of brightly colored fabric protruding from bins. Rising Phoenix-like from the clutter was a headless mannequin in an exquisite brown silk floor-length dress with a rich orange bow cascading off one shoulder, from Ms. Theallet’s two-year-old namesake line.

This cozy house of Theallet staged its first runway show in September 2008 at the Metropolitan Pavilion, using only black models (partially in homage to Yves Saint Laurent, the first designer to cast a black model). Admiring reviews noted the designer’s association with Azzedine Alaia, the influential Parisian couturier for whom she toiled for 10 years. “You see that I’m not young, right?” said Ms. Theallet, who would not give a more specific age than early 40s. But New York has been a rebirth of sorts. “Here, I don’t have the heaviness of the past,” she said.

Before Brooklyn, she and Mr. Francoeur—who now have a 2-year-old son, Leon—lived in the Chelsea Hotel for four years. “It was craaaaaaazy at that time!” Ms. Theallet said.

“We used to travel a lot,” said Mr. Francoeur, suddenly appearing at the doorway in Buddy Holly glasses, designer jeans and a crisp cardigan. He said his wife had trouble fitting into the mold of corporate America.

“I don’t want to make mass production,” Ms. Theallet said. So she freelanced, briefly designing a line with makeup artist Francois Nars before turning her attention to her own creations. Detailed and intricate, they are produced in very limited quantity, selling at Barneys and Jeffrey for $1,800 to $3,000.

“I never want to lose this,” the designer said. “The freedom.” Dark-haired, pale and curvaceous, she was wearing a black gauzy dress of her own design over black jeans and pink leather Adidas high-tops. Growing up in the South of France, she traveled often to London to visit cousins and discovered Siouxie and the Banshees, the Sex Pistols and the Clash. They inspired her interest in fashion. (Though not, she was quick to note, her current collection, which critics called “happy,” “charming,” “modest” and “feminine.”)

“She has the punk spirit,” Mr. Francoeur said.

“But it’s not about me,” Ms. Theallet said quickly. “It’s about somebody else. Somebody more like … It’s not me.”

She has yet to fully conceptualize her fall 2009 collection. “I’m totally stressed out. I’m not even here,” she said, craving a cigarette.

“Maybe it can happen tonight, maybe can happen in three days, I have no idea,” Ms. Theallet said. “It’s, like, killing me. Make me feeling sad and blah, blah, blah. And after, I’m so happy!”

“When she’s got it, she’s got it,” said Mr. Francoeur, smiling gently.

“After, I think maybe I’m crazy,” she said.

Ms. Theallet’s years working for Mr. Alaia, and for Jean-Paul Gaultier before him, may have made her a bit of a technical perfectionist, obsessed with workmanlike details. But they also freed her from fashion’s eternal preoccupation with the new.

“Times have changed,” she said. “Everything is already done from the past, so we can say, ‘This is modern and new,’ but it’s not true.

“I don’t know what’s fashion now,” Ms. Theallet said with a heavy sigh. “I just try to make beautiful clothes done in a beautiful way.”

PHOTOGRAPH: John Huba
Hair by Mitch Barry; makeup by Jordy Poon for Rita Hazan Salon