Menace to Society
Becoming a socialite is a grueling slog even in the best of circumstances. And I’m not in the best of circumstances. I don’t really know anyone or have any money, and while I’ve gotten plenty of ink over the years, it’s not the kind on the society pages (it’s on my shoulders, calves, upper arms, forearms…).
But nobody does it alone. Cinderella had a Fairy Godmother and a bunch of little birds. I had an editor, a stylist and a photographer lending occasional advice, but it wasn’t enough. I needed a publicist. And I knew of only one man for the job: R. Couri Hay.
Waiting in the lobby of the Midtown East home of the interior designer wet dream penthouse apartment of John and Andrea Stark, we heard the bellhop turn to one of our companions waiting in line for the elevator.
“You’re the Hulk, aren’t you??!” The young man asked feverishly, as if hoping that the actor in our midst would suddenly turn green and start screaming in nouns and verbs.
“Yes, Mark Ruffalo, nice to meet you,” he said. The elevator doors opened, and the anti-hydrofracking advocate attempted to enter, as we were already running a little late to an event for The Common Good, Patricia Duff‘s non-profit public advocacy group.
The bellhop stepped in front of the open door, barring entrance. “Hey, can I get a picture?” He asked, breaking really the only rule of being a good hotel employee.
The door almost dinged shut, but we grabbed it with our hands. Mr. Ruffalo looked slightly pained, but put on his game face. “Sure!” he said, while one of his people snapped a picture.
“Okay, up we go! Can’t keep the ladies waiting!” The Hulk took a dapper step into the elevator and winked at us.
Yesterday evening, The New York Observer wove around the horrific obstacle course that is trying to find a cab in Times Square in order to jet up 14 East 82nd St. The partially-remodeled space, owned by Russian real estate mogul and artist Janna Bullock had been turned into a three-floored gallery for Ms. Bullock’s premiere exhibition, “Allegories and Experiences.”
Over bites of fried sage and copious amounts of vodka, we mingled with some of New York’s artistic jet-setters, surrounding the two hosts of the evening, Ms. Bullock and Jay McInerney.