 |
|
|
 |
The
Empire State Building.
10:00 PM. Photo: JH.
|
Time
for a light overcoat or at least a scarf (neither of which I was wearing).
Walking up sunny Fifth Avenue near the Plaza and the General Sherman
statue, one could finally see the foliage turning in the form of
one great tree festooning with bright yellow leaves hanging over
the avenue amidst a sea of rich green on the very edge of Central
Park.
I’d been to Michael’s which was hopping with personages from
the world of money and media: hedge fund manager James
Chanos, Nick Verbitsky, Pamela Fiori of Town&Country; Mary
Furlong
of GirlGeeks with Myrna Blythe, George Kolasa with Michael
Clinton
of Hearst, Ellen Levine of Good Housekeeping; Joe
Armstrong with
Terry Allen Kramer and Phyllis George who’s
just come out with her own cosmetics line, Jack Myers with Tom
Sassos, Maureen Reidy, Patricia Sellers; Bonnie Timmerman with Jay
McInerney and
Web Stone, mega-agent Suzanne Gluck with Mrs.
Spike Lee; Debra Shriver, Stella McCartney with her cousin Lee
Eastman; Peter Price with Tony Hoyt; W’s James
Reginato, Vogue’s Anna Wintour,
Reese Schonfeld, the man who started CNN with Ted
Turner, Pat Schoenfeld with Peter Rogers and Tita (Mrs
Sammy) Cahn; Heather Cohane with Taylor
Stein, Amy Hoadley, publicity exec Joe Quenqua with Peter
Travers of Rolling Stone Magazine. And so was
there a lotta talk going on?
 |
Olivia
Chantaille, Sigourney Weaver, and Susan Shin |
|
Rewind: Wednesday
night was the Central Park Conservancy’s
9th annual Halloween Party in the Park, held under the “Sorcerer’s
Tent” which looked to these eyes like a series of large white
tents. There was a winding steps entrance on the top of which
were two pair of nymphs greeting the guests with their lighted
wands
and gossamer wings and bat-like purring.
More than 600 turned out, many of whom were “turned
out,” often
unrecognizable even without masks to hide their eyes or faces.
Waiters in black tie served up a varied menu of delicious nibble
items (for the “ghoulish appetites”), and the décor
was, according the Conservancy’s press office officially “a
haunting magical forest.” Okay. Co-chairs for the evening
were John and Judy Angelo, Suzanne and Bob Cochran (Suzanne, maskless,
in a Harry Potter get-up was one of the unrecognizables to me);
Monica and Stefano Corsi, Jeanne and Carlisle Jones, Amy
Rosi, Anita and Stuart Subotnick, John Stossel, Monica and Ali
E. Wambold, and Sigourney Weaver and Jim Simpson.
This year’s junior
chairs were Olivia Chantecaille and Susan
Shin. Brooklyn Brewery
donated the beer, thank you very much; Dewars 12 supplied the spirit
libation and Frederick Wildman & Sons provided the wine; thank
you very much.
This was an important fundraiser for the Conservancy whose mission
is to restore, manage and preserve Central Park, in partnership
with the public, for the enjoyment of current and future generations.
And they do a helluva job because the Park is a haven, a mecca,
a refuge and a paradise for us city dwellers often far from pastoral
life. It’s so beautiful and big enough for all of us, and
unceasingly gorgeous, thanks to the vigilant and caring work of
the Conservancy, its staff and its troops of volunteers.
Meanwhile, the costumes: |
After a look-see in the Park with JH and the Digital, I
hopped a cab and went down to Fez on Lafayette (between 4th and
Great Jones
Street) to join Parker Ladd and Arnold Scaasi to see Miss
Joan Rivers do an evening of her stand-up. Her low-down stand-up, I should say,
because La Rivers leaves no stone unturned, flipped, thrown and
tossed (shatter/shatter/splat/splat).
Take a modern day subject and
the queen of irreverence goes right for the jugular. Sometimes you
think: gawd, how can she dare even say that? So gross, so vulgar,
so funny. Don’t miss it – every Wednesday at 8 pm through
December 22nd. Tickets $25. Reservations: 212-533-2680 or www.ticketweb.com.
A thousand laughs I’ve found, is what Joan delivers. She looks
great and at one point she made some remark in her staccato/stiletto
style about a seventy-one year old comedienne (something irreverent
of course) and it suddenly occurred to me she was talking about herself.
She just doesn’t look like the picture we have of seventy-one.
Noddadall! Part of it’s the countenance that’s been touched
by the most talented hands in the annals of cosmetic surgery, but
the biggest part of it is the energy, the movement, the zaniness,
the girlishness.
You have to hand it to her. This is a very rich lady, rich from her
own hard work, who as the world knows makes a good living selling
her jewelry and creams on QVC, and what does she do in her spare
time? She works. And when she’s not working, she’s working;
writing, putting together her monologue, listening, working, working
listening. And when she’s not doing that, she’s entertaining
her friends, wining, dining, yachting; she’s a wonder and a
wonderful friend too. |
Have
you subscribed to New York Social Diary?
Enter your Email address and
click on subscribe to receive
emails about the activities of NYSD. It's free!
|
|
|
|
|
For
those of you keeping track of these things, I got a couple
of emails on Wednesday about Huntington Hartford, the once fabled
supermarket heir whom I wrote about on Tuesday and who forty
years ago built the museum on Columbus Circle which will be the
new home for the Museum of Arts and Design. You may remember
that Mr. Hartford (known as Hunt to his friends), having gone
through most of his huge inherited fortune was, last I knew,
living very quietly out in Brooklyn. The story, however, requires
revision:
 |
Huntington
Hartford
|
|
The update via email:
Saw in today's column that Huntington Hartford was last reported
to be living in Brooklyn. He's moved! He's no longer in New York.
He left months ago to return to the sunny Bahamas and is being
well cared for by his daughter, Juliette, in Lyford Cay to be
precise.
I have visited him recently; he is alert, remembers the old days
pretty well, and seems the same person with some years added
on. He even tried to push his old favorite on me about promoting
'Paradise Tennis'. For
a refresher -- Paradise Tennis is played on a huge ping pong
table and was Hunt's invention early on in
the conversion of Hog Island to Paradise Island. It never
really took hold, but there was a table for years in the
basement of
1 Beekman when he lived there. Though his legs have given
out, he still has an opinion or two!
Daughter Juliette and Sibilla Clark have taken him to re-visit
his old home and haunt, the Ocean Club, on Paradise Island
where he was well received as the originator of the vision
for all
that's happened there. Sibilla is a relative by marriage
to Hunt, having previously been married to Columbus O'Donnell
whose mother
was Hartford's sister.
He has had quite a life of ups and downs. He seems at peace
with it all, and now is particularly touched to have a daughter
who
is crazy about him... and makes sure everything goes well
from now on!
Charlie Dana
And while we’re on the subject: I’d forgotten while
writing Tuesday’s Diary that another one of Huntington
Hartford’s ventures was the development of Paradise Island.
In the small world department for avid NYSD readers, the island
was originally known as Hog Island and was purchased by Mr. Hartford
from Arturo Lopez-Wilshaw, the Chilean fertilizer king who was
the Parisian patron of the Baron Alexis de Rede – whose
obituary can be found on NYSD’s The
List. |
|
|
|
|
