Never one to follow convention, Betsey Johnson doesn't let anyone less than Keith McNally fill her cabinets. When we spotted the eclectic designer at Morandi last night, she was picking up her weekly stockpile.
Roger Clemens's friendship with the black sheep of the Bush family, Sharon Bush, may cost him a pardon from George W. if he is convicted of perjury. Both HarperCollins and Random House are set to come out with books about George Steinbrenner. A "Page Six" spy thinks Howard Stern's fiancée, Beth Ostrosky, wants to have a baby because she, uh, stopped to say hello to one. Will Ferrell and Tom Brokaw did an onstage bit together at Radio City Music Hall on Sunday for Ferrell's Funny or Die tour. The New Yorker reveals that the late Bishop Paul Moore was a closeted homosexual. Tracy Westmoreland, owner of erstwhile dive bar Siberia, may play a bouncer in a movie called The Bouncer.
Louis Terline, co-owner of the Brooklyn boutique Oak, took time away from the tents to share his favorites from the week so far. What’s he looking at for next fall’s inventory? He likes Betsey Johnson’s hot shorts, Yigal’s rich fabrics, and Marc by Marc’s leather dresses.
Monday was a mixed bag of no-brainer casting and compelling new faces. Runway veteran Anja Rubik lead the Oscar show. But Anna Gushina, who just debuted at Prada in September, generated significant buzz by winning Proenza Schouler’s coveted first spot.
Usually by this point in Fashion Week, we're so tired that we start hallucinating celebrities everywhere we look. While this would be divine if we were having visions of Matt Damon, instead there was a split second in which we were convinced we saw Kenneth Branagh wandering around aimlessly in a full-length man mink (strike one), and we thought this one short dude at Carolina Herrera was Lucy Liu (strike two, and we're sorry about that gender mix-up, Lucy).
Gwyneth Paltrow may have gone to Mount Sinai Medical Center on Monday to deal with pregnancy complications. Pink is teaming up with PETA to help stop horse-drawn carriage rides in Central Park. Billionaire Band-Aid heiress Libet Johnson refused to let her husband, weight-loss guru Dr. Lionel Bissoon, see their adopted child after they broke up. WD-50 chef Wylie Dufresne had BBQ and finger food at his wedding to former magazine editor Maile Carpenter this past weekend. Maroon Five guitarist James Valentine wrote about how much harder he used to party on his MySpace page. 5WPR founder Ronn Torossian has really low standards for the cases he'll agree to take on. Ed Burns claims that critics in New York hate his films because he didn't go to an Ivy League school and his dad's a cop.
Considering we're such die-hard Beverly Hills, 90210 lovers, it was almost too perfect that the marquee guest at Betsey Johnson's prom-themed fashion show was none other than Tori Spelling herself, (in)famous for the time her alter-ego Donna Martin almost didn't graduate because she got drunk on champers at prom.
• Here come the job cuts: Lehman Brothers will shutter its subprime unit, leaving 1,200 employees out of work. [NYT]
• A new study suggests raising taxes on private equity wouldn't make any difference because Steve Schwarzman and friends would just find new ways to wriggle out of them. After all, taxes are for the little people, right? [Bloomberg]
• Alan Greenspan supposedly told his new bosses at Deutsche that he would have lowered rates by now, though he denies it. [WSJ]
The "tall and attractive" 25-year-old aide whom Jon Corzine may have been sitting next to at the time of his car crash was reassigned last month because she and the governor were allegedly getting too close. Larry and Laurie David may have split because Laurie had an affair with a married man on Martha's Vineyard. Some Columbia Records staffers are worried that producer Rick Rubin has been named co-head of the label, given that he has no executive experience. Richie Sambora dumped Denise Richards during a Hawaii vacation a few months ago; she'd been expecting him to propose. Michael Jackson placed a number of odd, ill-timed room-service orders at an inn in Maryland, but he did bless the manager. Oliver Platt is an ardent supporter of the business tactics of George Steinbrenner, whom he plays in The Bronx Is Burning. Lindsay Lohan is dropping booze for bottled water.
Members of the ten-person Iraq Study Group, which included Sandra Day O'Connor and Vernon Jordan, almost came to blows over a disagreement. Both Paris Hilton and Britney Spears were no-shows at the Heatherette show. Sienna Miller's secret to having a nice rump in Factory Girl? Spray-on makeup. Park Chinois, the haute Chinese restaurant that was to open in the Gramercy Park Hotel, is no more. Owen Wilson ate with the boldfaced names but hung out with the nobodies at the Waverly Inn. After getting dumped by boyfriend Isaac Cohen via phone, Britney Spears went out "partying like a college girl looking to get laid." (And how, we must ask, is that different from all other nights?)
Is it just us, or do the parties this week totally blow? Thankfully, Amber Tamblyn, who is just one whirling dervish of former teen-talks-to-God-dramedy fun, doesn't appear to know this. We love everything about the 23-year-old Joan of Arcadia alum, from her flirty sense of style to her dry quips answering stupid press questions (Q: "How are you handling the madness of Fashion Week?" A: "Quaaludes. Lots of quaaludes").
Once we saw the Reverend Al Sharpton at the Baby Phat show on Friday, we figured we'd hit our man-of-the-cloth quota. We thought many things in those balmy days, but never did we guess that Rev. Run of Run DMC would glide into our lives during today's Betsey Johnson show.
Joan of Arcadia star Amber Tamblyn seemed just as surprised and thrilled, sidling up to Rev. Run for a photo a request he granted by wrapping his most-holy arm around her. Then, looking especially, well, reverend, in solemn black garb and that kicky hat, he settled into his seat at the end of the runway next to his brother, Russell Simmons, to great applause and cheers from the photographers' pen. He proceeded to grin so enthusiastically at the models that one even giggled and did a few extra shimmies. Who can blame her?
With this week's release of Pussy Cats Starring the Walkmen, the New York warble rockers have breathed new life into Harry Nilsson's 1974 original Pussy Cats, an odd album produced by John Lennon in the midst of his "lost weekend" debauchery. The Walkmen faithfully and completely re-create the pop gem, a bewildering mix of classics and originals recorded while Lennon and his drinking buddy Nilsson were tearing through L.A.'s bar scene.
The release also reanimates an almost-forgotten strand of creative gimmickry: the full-length cover. Past reimaginings have run the gamut from genre makeovers (Booker T. & The MGs' McElmore Avenue was a funky Abbey Road) to hipster novelties (Pussy Galore's Exile on Main Street, a cassette-only limited edition) to theatrical nerdiness (Rufus Wainwright's recent restaging of Judy Garland's classic 1961 Carnegie Hall performance). Some hit and some miss, but that's no reason to give up on the genre all together. Now the Walkmen have us thinking about some other bands we'd like to see paired with classic LPs.