Madame Mayhem. (Patrick McMullan/PatrickMcMullan.com)

“This is insane...it’s like a Fellini film,” The Observer overheard one guest murmur as we arrived at the Southampton Hospital gala last Saturday evening. The theme of the evening was Grand Prix Monaco, though many of the high-paying donors didn’t seem to have gotten the memo—or known what it meant, perhaps. Women wore colorful dresses in every conceivable hue and style, while the men ranged from casual checkered shirts to top hats and tails.

Though this was a charity event, there was a measure of self-interest on the part of the attendees: after all, the Jenny and John Paulson Emergency Department of Southampton Hospital is the only emergency room facility for 50 miles. As opposed to say, giving money to Haiti, this was clearly a cause that could potentially affect donors directly.

“This benefit is considered sort of the social benefit of the season,” gala chair Laura Lofaro Freeman told The Observer. “It’s really to update and upgrade the equipment in the emergency room, make sure it’s cutting-edge…et cetera.”

When we asked what was the most common kind of emergency they dealt with in the Hamptons—beyond the expertise of the handsome doctors in Royal Pains—Ms. Freeman ticked off a list. “Terrible car accidents, surfing accidents, bike accidents...and, you know, a lot of a heart attacks.”

Heart attacks were a prevalent theme at the gala, particularly when the president and CEO of the hospital, Robert S. Chaloner, took the stage during dinner.

“Our dream was to get 800 people in a tent, crank the heat up to 100 degrees, and hope that someone has a heart attack, knowing that our hospital is only a block away,” he joked.

To drive the point home even further, an ambulance appeared on the lawn, with its lights on, during cocktail hour. Someone had already taken a nasty spill in the grass, we were told. Despite the fact that the party was held on the hospital’s grounds on Wickapogue Road, the emergency truck was on call all evening. You know, just in case.

Of course, the costuming alone was enough to give an elderly patient a cardiac episode. Joy Marks and Leesa Rowland were in hot pink, while Archie Comics publisher Nancy Silberkleit wore construction-area neon (“I’m more of a Veronica than a Betty tonight,” she told us), a look copied by Dr. Lewis Feder. Global head of marketing and investor relations for Ares Management Suzanne Murphy went with a subtler tangerine gown. Somers Farkas chose a lighter shade of gold to accent her deep tan, while Jean Shafiroff had changed from her polo daywear of bright yellow to a white ball gown featuring lemon-colored daffodils.

Then there was the black brigade: Madame Mayhem, the Chanel-sporting goth-chic singer who was the “surprise” guest of the evening, joining bandleader Alex Donner for his 10th year at the event.

“I usually sing Lady Gaga, but I think tonight that will be Madame Mayhem,” Mr. Donner laughed. We couldn’t tell if this was a joke. Ms. Mayhem ended up performing “Mony Mony”…an unusual selection, but one that got the audience dancing (without regard for their blood pressure).

We asked Ms. Freeman about the origin of her outfit, a deceptively simple but complexly constructed bodice-and-gown affair that floated open whenever she embraced a new guest.

“The idea was to make it ethereal and fun and French…sort of like Grand Prix Monaco,” Ms. Freeman said, twirling around in a spray of baby blue.

Helpfully, Ms. Freeman kept her designer by her side. “Two things that Laura mentioned when she told me about her idea for the dress: she wanted it to open up in the wind when she walked,” Project Runway veteran Wesley Nault told The Observer, “and the other is that Laura loves construction, so she literally wanted it to stand up when she sat down. So you can sit the dress on the bed and it looks like someone’s in it.” Eerie!

Once everyone had flounced their way into the tents, we found ourselves sitting at the table of Howard Lorber, chairman of Prudential Douglas Elliman, the evening’s biggest sponsor.  (Also from the firm was top-selling broker Lisa Simonsen.) Chris Del Gatto of Circa was to our left, looking a little bit glum despite the presence of his gorgeous fiancée, model Veronica Webb. We don’t blame him: during a game at the Bridgehampton Polo Club earlier that afternoon, one of his team’s horses had died during a match against Nacho Figueras’ team.

We asked Mr. Del Gatto why polo wasn’t played at the Olympics anymore.

“You get very particular horses,” he sighed. “And the travel can be very tough on them.”

That didn’t explain why dressage is still an Olympic sport, but we decided not to press it, especially since Social Life publisher Justin Mitchell was sitting right across from us, and as it was the media sponsor of the evening, we didn’t want to speak too ill of the Sport of Kings, which the magazine covers extensively. Besides, we were here to talk about human health, not horses! (Not to mention that Peter Brandt and Stephanie Seymour were in earshot.)

The gala also featured a silent auction, in which guests could bid on a number of interesting items, including a watercolor portrait of your child, home or pet (but no snakes) by artist Katrina Vanderlip. By evening’s end, more than $1.6 million had been raised for improvements to the emergency unit.

Nevertheless, Ellesse CEO Byron Hero was still wary. “Let’s just say I wouldn’t want to get sick here,” he quipped.

dgrant@observer.com

Robb paid $2.785 million, slightly more than the $2.745 million the apartment was listed for in May, when it saw a price jump from $2.695 million first ask in March. The seller was Adam Sender, a Steve Cohen accolyte and founder of Exis Capital Management who is also a reputed art collector. He could also be considered a collector of apartments, as he bought three of the top units at 15 Broad for $8.3 million in 2007, as well as a lower unit the year before for $1.5 million (he must have liked what he saw).

The combined apartments then came on the market for $10.995 million in October 2008 before jumping to $15 million in December--Lehman be damned! It appears that plan didn't work out, as 6,257-square-foot combo slipped off the market in April, according to StreetEasy. The bottom two apartments of the trifecta have yet return to the market, despite the sale of the topper. At a loss, too, as Sender paid $3 million for it. According to Elliman broker Jason Walker's listing, the apartment was never lived in.

Sender and wife Lenore also own an apartment on Greene Street in Soho, according to city records.

 -- John Eck and his wife Malia have just bought a sumptous, wood-beamed condo at 43 Clarkson Street in the Far West Village. The lofty apartment has 2,600 exquisite square feet and can easily host a dinner party of 50 boasts the listing by Darren Sukenik of Elliman. "All this in the most chic, private location that is in the middle of it all--yet miles beyond your expectations," Sukenik writes of the three-bedroom, three-and-a-half-bath condo. The couple paid $3.675 million to Robbins-Smatt Family LLC.

The company was created in 1999 by Bruce Robbins, according to state records, and is registered to the building. It so happens that the artist of the same name and his photographer wife, Karin Smatt-Robbins, live in the duplex penthouse of the building. Julian Schnabel also reportedly spent time in the building, presumably before he built the fabulously pink Palazzo Chupi on nearby West 11th Street.

[CORRECTION: The John Eck who heads up NBC's television division is not the same John Eck who purchased this apartment, as first reported. The Observer regrets the error.]

 -- Zachary Kestenbaum runs, with his father Jerry, Building Link, a digital management system for residential properties used in more than 800 buildings from New York to Tokyo. It should follow, then, that the younger Kestenbaum would have a nice apartment himself, and he does now, as he and wife Rita have just purchased a $4 million coop at 1095 Park Avenue.  The four-bedroom, four-bathroom sprawling 1930 apartment has special appeal for the inner techie: "Every wall in this 8 rooms apartment was opened and rebuilt to accommodate computer and electronic systems, but rebuilt to retain the prewar character and charm," coos Mary Beth Flynn and Russell Miller's Brown Harris Stevens listing. The sellers were Philip Lefkowitz and Tracy Lippes.

mchaban [at] observer.com / @mc_nyo

Gossip Girl’s Joanna Garcia made her way down the line of photographers and reporters in a red Alberta Ferretti dress with a long train and a slit up the middle. No, she wasn’t with Chace Crawford, or her real boyfriend, Yankee Nick Swisher—he was off trying to win the first game of the playoffs—but an old friend. An assistant occasionally threw Ms. Garcia’s red train to the wind for a more dramatic snapshot.

“High maintenance,” the starlet laughed. Luckily, the outfit held up. “I’m highly tucked in,” she said.

Model Veronica Webb and actress Emmy Rossum arrived at the same time. Ms. Rossum, wearing a white Marchesa dress, skirted past the photographers and rushed inside.

“I love the ballet!” Ms. Webb said, looking elegant in a long blue Christian Siriano dress that poofed out at the bottom. “The Turning Point is one of my favorite movies.”

This was the ABT company’s first time performing at Avery Fisher Hall, and the evening featured the debut of three separate works, by choreographers Aszure Barton, Benjamin Millepied and Alexei Ratmansky, that will run until Oct. 10.

Outside, the wind howled.

“Can we go inside?” Iman, the model and wife of David Bowie, asked her publicist. She shivered in a dark purple Donna Karan dress that left her arms bare. The Transom took refuge with her in the lobby. Iman is no stranger to music, having done a few videos back in the ’80s—“I’m the only one that did both of the Jacksons, Jermaine and Michael,” she reflected—but the ballet is another thing entirely.

“I wish I was a dancer!” she said, and rushed to find her seat.

As the opening curtain bell began to clamor, the actress Natalie Portman arrived, posed briefly for a couple of pictures and then was whisked inside, past the corral of photographers. They let out a collective “Arggh!” followed by “Natalie, Natalie, wait, Natalie”—practically falling on top of each other to get a shot of the back of her pretty head.

“I’ve grown into feeling safer and safer, but there were times when I didn’t at all,” the now-out-of-the-closet television star said—nearly resting his chin on his clavicle—at a benefit for Safe Horizon, which supports victims of violence.

“I didn’t even really come out until I was thirty. So for me personally, it means a great deal. I can talk about the kinds of hostility that I’ve received and the forms of abuse I received when I was a teen and a young adult”—he paused and looked skyward—“it’s what drove me right back into the closet, frankly. It was an inhospitable reception.”

Mr. Gunn, the seemingly ubiquitous 54-year-old creative director of Liz Claiborne Inc.—a multi-billion-dollar company that, until he left his chair at the New School to become the company’s baron of bandbox, conveyed more suburban-geek than city-chic—was wearing a Ted Baker tuxedo fashioned, rather fittingly, from Kevlar. (“So it’s a safe tux. Isn’t that wild!” he laughed, pulling at his cuffs.)

Switching gears slightly, Mr. Gunn donned a facial expression of theatrical heartbreak and mentioned a certain “big celebrity” he knows. The unnamed star, he said, simply couldn’t bring herself to end an abusive marriage. She would repeatedly move in with her mother—children in tow—only to go back with the belligerent a few days later. “It just begs the question: What is it within our whole psychological makeup that allows for that and enables it?” he pressed in a warm baritone.

Sitting with his legs crossed and his eyes peering over the tops of frameless glasses, Mr. Gunn would lean closer as the topic of conversation turned decidedly serious. “When it’s in your house, you feel shame and huge embarrassment,” he said, adding: “It’s like, ‘Let’s not air the dirty laundry; I’d rather just pretend nothing ever happened and move on.’”

Bravo hasn’t yet asked the natty designer to sign on for a second season of Tim Gunn’s Guide to Style, in which he co-stars with an often-awkward Veronica Webb, the ever-radiant former supermodel. (He hadn’t seen her since wrapping the show, but they reunited at last night’s party, which was held on the Hudson River at Chelsea’s Pier 60.)

Whether or not Guide to Style jumps the shark, Mr. Gunn assured us that the other wings of his professional house are hopping. “We’re in the midst of rebuilding the whole company,” he said of Liz Claiborne. “And while on the one hand there are lots of terrifying aspects to [major change], if we don’t move on it, if we don’t aggressively go after change, we—like any other company—will just have had it,” he said, unfurling his arms to punctuate the gravity of his conviction.

“I couldn’t be more excited about where we’re going to be when we reposition all of this,” he beamed. “It’s a really thrilling ride.”