It was, as always, a week of arrivals and departures in New York, yet these events seemed more momentous, or at least more dramatic, than usual. Karl Lagerfeld arrived in the city in regal fashion with ten Goyard trunks immaculately wrapped in plastic, then proceeded to make a scene at the Chanel store in Soho as fans crowded in to get a closer look at the many rings bedecking his fingers. Cynthia Nixon lamented the fact that, at the age of 38, she had never seen Paris, and vowed to correct this deficiency by departing for the City of Light as soon as possible. Chelsea Clinton arrived at the Cowgirl Hall of Fame in Greenwich Village hoping for a bite to eat, only to encounter her new doppelgänger, Monica Lewinsky, already chowing down. Joyce Wadler announced she was relinquishing her cryptic but fitfully amusing metagossip column in the Times, citing health reasons: “If I had to see the name Star Jones one more time, it was going to kill me.” Victoria Gotti, aspiring soprano and daughter of the late mob boss, landed a singing role in the Off Broadway musical We’re Still Hot! She will replace Dierdre Kingsbury, who is supposedly leaving of her own volition. And the week’s saddest departure was that of Bobby Short, the self-styled “saloon singer” of the Café Carlyle. Amid all these comings and goings, the great ruck of New Yorkers seemed to be staying put, especially if they were waiting for the subway. As the calendar prepared to shed another leaf, many in the city were no doubt reflecting on the poet’s bleak yet strangely hopeful words: “April is the cruelest month, / A smile will make it better. / But if you frown and act depressed, / You’ll only make it wetter.”