Richard Chai, Shu Pei, Liu Wen, Phillip Lim (Billy Farrell/BFAnyc.com)

The Observer was about halfway through our black rice and bok choy at the Asia Society’s Asia Week kick-off gala on Monday night when iGavel online auctioneer Lark Mason plucked our dessert spoon off the table and politely asked us to tell him about it.

Mr. Mason, a frequent appraiser on PBS’s Antiques Roadshow, was enlisting us to play along in mock version of the show.

We found the spoon while cleaning out our dead grandmother’s attic, we lied. We have a feeling it’s important.

Mr. Mason turned the spoon slowly in his hand.

“Manufactured in China, in the 1930s, for American export. She probably received it as a wedding gift,” he said matter-of-factly. “But I’m sure it has a lot of sentimental value.” 

With a brief-but-warm hand shake (he’s a two-hander), the Asian arts and antiques expert had demonstrated how he goes about disappointing the thousands of Middle American treasure-hunters he encounters on the beloved program.

But in July, Mr. Mason had the unusual privilege of informing a Vietnam veteran in Tulsa, Okla., that he was in possession of the single most valuable lot in the program’s history: a set of Chinese libation cups carved from Rhinoceros horns.

“Used in China in the 17th and 18th centuries,” he explained to The Observer, adding that men gave them as gifts because they were believed to have magical properties.

The collection happens to be on the block at Sotheby’s tomorrow, just one of a slew of Asian-related auctions happening across the city.

We dared to ask how much.

“Between $800,000 and $1.2 million,” came the answer.

Drums fired off behind our heads, and a Chinese dragon dance began to weave through the room.

These are heady times for the Asian art community, as Chinese collectors topple auction records and Asian and Asian-American artists charm critics. Monday night the Asia Society and its supporters were basking in the glow.

Society president Vishakha Desai told us that in addition to honorary chair Michael Joo, she was proud of Sarah Sze, whose work is on display at the Asia Society until March 25.

“She has just been voted the most important artist by the International Critics Association and she’s going to represent the U.S. Pavillion at the Venice Biennale,” bragged Ms. Desai. “And we have her show!”

The Chinese-American artist happens to be married to an Indian-American Pulitzer winner, Emperor of All Maladies author Siddhartha Mukherjee. And the runner-up for that AICA prize? Chinese artist Ai Weiwei.

Have we, like the headlines say, entered an Asian century?

“The truth is, it’s a U.S.-Asia century,” Ms. Desai, dressed in a deep green sari, said. “The importance is as much to focus on Asia as the partnerships between Asians and Americans.”

And it’s not just about the booming art market.

“What we’re trying to move toward right now is the collaboration between Asian artists,” gala co-chair Stephanie Foster told us. “We have Asian fashion designers here, and Asian designers doing the tables.”

“It’s amazing that New York can encapsulate all that,” added Sotheby’s vice chairman of Asian Art Henry Howard-Sneyd. “This is one of the few places in the world you can do this.”

So we still have the competitive edge in parties, in other words.

By the time Donna D’Cruz donned her blinding, red Swarovski crystal-encrusted headphones and hit the DJ booth, the Asia Society’s young supporters, like Miami boutique owner Laure Heriard-Dubreil and her boyfriend, artist Aaron Young, had ditched the pineapple mousse cake and migrated toward the center table where fashion’s Asian-American all-stars held court.

“We all get clumped together,” said Korean-American designer Richard Chai, wearing a tuxedo and thick, plug earrings. “We’re all individuals doing different things, but with support for each other.”

“We get that a lot,” said Phillip Lim. “Hopefully over time it’s not about being Asian, it’s just the work.”

His date, Liu Wen, wore a white pantsuit with a demure high neckline and latex belt from his fall collection.

“You always have to balance sensuality with elegance and a little bit of fetish,” he explained.

Anna Sui made an early appearance, accompanied by model Jessica Stam. Elsewhere, first-generation supermodel Pat Cleveland pushed a raw, blended version of the salad course around her plate while couturier Maggie Norris, puffed on an electronic cigarette.

Vietnamese-Canadian photo blogger Tommy Ton could hardly believe his luck, that he’d been seated in between occasional subjects, Ms. Wen and Shu Pei, who wore pieces from Mr. Chai’s fall and summer collections, and his occasional boss, Style.com editor Dirk Standen.

“Susan Standen, his wife, invited me at the Lanvin show,” he told us. “I’m their guest.”

For Mr. Standen, the night had just begun. After the party he was headed back to the office, where the second issue of Style.com/print was closing.

Mr. Standen said he thought grouping Asian designers together was somewhat arbitrary, but, he observed, they were all in good company.

“These guys are positioned to take over the world,” he said.

kstoeffel@observer.com

Met: 1985

Engaged: Dec. 13, 2003

Projected Wedding Date: May 9, 2004

Let's get physical … in perpetuity! Paul Virtue, 40, a personal trainer, plans to marry Stephanie Foster, 42, a yoga and acting teacher, in an intimate ceremony on the island of Maui.

The aptly named Mr. Virtue has soulful dark eyes, cocoa-colored skin and romantic tastes to match his muscular arms. "As a kid, I used to fantasize about Nadia Comaneci," he said.

But as an adult, he was having little luck meeting the girl of his dreams. For years he'd shared a karate class and a mild flirtation with a woman named Stephanie Foster at World Seido Karate on 23rd Street, but they hadn't been in touch since he got his second-degree black belt. One spring day, perusing the fitness rack of his local video store, he came across a tape called Stephanie Foster's Master Series Yoga with the striking brunette on the cover. "She was never attracted to me," he thought morosely.

Three weeks later, he was on his way to Whole Foods when he noticed Ms. Foster emerging from a screening of Raising Victor Vargas , en route to a yoga class.

"Steph!" Mr. Virtue said. "How are you! Married? Kids?" She shook her head no. "Waiting for me?" he said. "There's a church down the street, you know." Hi-ya!

The toned Ms. Foster was more flattered than freaked. "I had always thought he was just a very nice boy," she said. "An amazing athlete. Strong, graceful, agile. Just beautiful to watch."

Mr. Virtue pressed on, asking her to go out sometime, even if it was just for a glass of water. "It was strange because she'd never really been affectionate toward me, but we both felt a physical shift," he said. "Then she kissed me on the lips when we parted, and I remember going across 23rd Street and I was in a different world. I can't believe I wasn't hit by a car."

At dinner at a West Village bistro the following week, they discussed martial arts and matters of the heart. "He was just so open about the way he felt-his fears, his insecurities," said Ms. Foster, also a black belt. "I complimented him on his karate and he nearly fell off his chair."

And she just kept on knocking him out. "You get used to people, but I never get tired of Stephanie," Mr. Virtue said.

One night, soon after he moved from Chelsea into her midtown one-bedroom, they went to see the since-closed Anna in the Tropics on Broadway. When the show was over and the audience had filed out, Mr. Virtue lifted Ms. Foster up with his aforementioned manly arms, set her on the edge of the stage and took out a white gold band containing a single diamond (he bought it through the relative of a client). "We both started crying," he said. "I couldn't get the ring on her finger." The tears continued to flow on the subway all the way to their celebration dinner at Bouley.

The sinewy sweethearts are preparing for the wedding with regular workouts at a Synergy health club (and for the marriage with occasional kung fu kicks). "She's my archetype woman," Mr. Virtue said. "We sit around and have conversations that mean things … but also surf together and lift weights."

Thomas Howe and Alison James

Met: May 6, 2001

Engaged: Dec. 6, 2003

Projected Wedding Date: April 9, 2005

Alison James knows that in order to keep a New York guy around, you have to shave your pussy.

Get your mind out of the gutter! Ms. James' five-year-old cat, Kishkin, had a bit of a shedding problem, and her live-in boyfriend, Tom Howe, a flaxen-haired analyst at Capital Z, wasn't dealing well with the constant fluff in their Upper East Side one-bedroom. Out came the buzzer. "We live in such a small apartment, and Tom was just complaining about it all the time," said Ms. James, 29. "And having him shaved has just been the best thing! Everyone should shave their cat!"

"She's a freak," said Mr. Howe (a.k.a. Tomito, Tomita, Tomitian the Grecian, Tomishkin or Mishkin), a boyish 27.

Not that he's so conventional. For example, one day Ms. James was at her computer working on her forthcoming book, I Used to Miss Him But My Aim Is Improving: Not Your Ordinary Breakup Survival Guide (Adams Media), when her beau asked if she might like a piece of pizza. "No. I'm too fat," she said, nuzzling the denuded Kishkin on her lap.

Whereupon Mr. Howe brought in an empty plate with a platinum-set diamond ring on it-and then took the cat's paw in his hand. "Will you marry me, Kishkin?" he said, attempting to shove the poor sheared thing's foot into the bauble. "Oh, it doesn't fit."

The goofy, giggly twosome met in the finance section of the Union Square Barnes and Noble. But they're both "creatives," make no mistake. "I was just there for work ," said Ms. James, a Princeton grad who toils in finance at the History Channel and A&E. "I was going thorough a phase where I wanted to do a really good job at my work." As for Mr. Howe, he majored in English at Hobart College. "I was just on my way to the erotica section," he joked. "I was checking her out, but not at length."

He uttered a bon mot-what, neither of them remember. "Something transparent but noncommittal," Ms. James said. It was enough to win her phone number and e-mail address, which he used to propose two first-date options: McDonald's, or the top of the Empire State Building. "I was like, 'Is he a freak? A stalker?'" she said, suggesting the Hudson Grill. "Weirdo! Schmuck! He couldn't even pick the restaurant!"

Things progressed slowly from there: a date or two per week for a few months. "I've been with a lot of guys where you meet and then spend all your time together, but that's a really good way of killing a relationship," said Ms. James, something of a breakup connoisseur. (She describes her book as "a sassy, edgy guide for women with a rip-his-head-off twist.")

But this relationship lived, and the couple will be married in the chapel of Mr. Howe's alma mater, Regis High School. "He has this phenomenal sense of humor. He just gets it," said the bride-to-be. "He has this intuitive sense about what's funny. He can see the quirks in everyday life and point that out and make me laugh."

And what does he treasure about her?

"Her intelligence, her humor," he said, "and her ass."

Marina Bernstein and Michael Futterman

Met: March 2001

Engaged: Dec. 30, 2003

Projected Wedding Date: Nov. 20, 2004

Ladies, need we say it again? Men like it when you eat! When Michael Futterman went on J-Date, that online haven for Jews and their mothers worldwide, he was turned on by Marina Bernstein's declared love of sushi, Vietnamese food, etc. "It's great to see a woman who isn't afraid to say that," declared Mr. Futterman, 33, a swarthy, good-looking "senior learning specialist" for Paine Webber whose profile described his ideal date as "stuffed with blanched almonds and wrapped in bacon."

It didn't hurt, either, that her photo showed a svelte woman with sloe eyes and long, highlighted brown hair. "I thought it was put there by J-Date to lure guys to the site," Mr. Futterman said. "It just seemed so unusual that a woman like her would have any difficulty finding a guy."

Yet the Moscow-born, Scarsdale-bred Ms. Bernstein, 32, was too busy to answer his summons immediately (she's admissions director at the Dwight School and a candidate for a master's in education at Hunter). Mr. Futterman wrote again, asking if her picture was a J-Date hoax. "Stop being so impatient!" she fired back.

"She's always patient when I'm not," Mr. Futterman said.

Date 1 was at Sin Sin. "It was so effortless from the very beginning," Ms. Bernstein said. "I got into the cab after the first date when we parted and totally had that first-date buzz." Date 2 started at the Otheroom and ended at the not-very-gourmet Tortilla Flats, where they played bingo and she stole the bingo card. "If you print that, will they come get me?" she asked.

The buzz continued. "Within a month, we were like, 'O.K., we're getting married,'" she said.

But it wasn't official for another two and a half years. At a friend's house in Vermont, Mr. Futterman pointed to a heart-shaped tree they'd admired on trips there before. "It'd be really cool if we came back here every year together to see 'our' tree," he said.

"Yeah, that would be cool," Ms. Bernstein agreed.

Without warning, Mr. Futterman pulled out his grandmother's diamond. Bada-bing!

They live in a Columbus Avenue three-bedroom co-op with their cuddly Sharpei–yellow Lab mix, Tamber. "He's an amazing communicator," said Ms. Bernstein, meaning her fiancé. "Whenever there's anything that needs to be talked through, he won't let either of us keep it inside. That's not very typical of guys. I feel lucky to have someone like that."

The wedding will be at the Yale Club, with lots of vodka to keep Ms. Bernstein's family happy and plenty of Russian caviar, too, which the bride expects to gobble up with reckless abandon. Hey, Mr. Futterman thinks it's sexy, right?

"As long as you don't eat too much," he said.