Ask any old fashion assistant, those lowly magazine trolls who work 12-hour days for twenty-something thousand dollars a year, about the ethics associated with accidentally forgetting to return a sample and accidentally taking it home with them, and most will tell you it's mere income augmentation (the publicists in charge of tracking those samples might have a different perspective, however.) At a recent cocktail party in New York, we stumbled upon a new phrase for this practice, something much kinder than "thieving." "Stall To Steal" is an expression many use to describe the editorial song and dance between editors and their press contacts wherein a variety of excuses—"that dress is stuck in customs," "those shoes were assigned to another shoot," "a celebrity wanted to wear that diamond ring out one evening" are some frequently used examples—are used to distract publicists from the obvious fact that the garment or accessory in question is clearly in an unmarked bag under their desk. Now you know.

Think you did a lot last weekend? Had you been in the vicinity of New York's Opening Cermemony store, you could've shopped 'til you dropped, played midnight Scrabble and sunrise karaoke, chilled to some dusk yoga, had your palm read at any hour of the night, or received a tattoo of any number of Olympic-themed symbols. (We hear that the five rings, a la swimmer Michael Phelps, who's already won two gold medals at the Beijing games, was a big hit). The activities kicked off on Friday night to coincide with—duh!—the Olympics' Opening Ceremony. "We had to do something," said shop owner Humberto Leon, adding that a three-day retail fest seemed most appropriate. (And how!) Also taking part in the festivities was the civic-minded cheering squad Cheer New York. The red-white-and blue-clad cheerleaders, who donate all of their proceeds to LGBT charities in the metropolitan area, performed outside the store at sunset and again throughout the night. Their big number? A shouting and clapping homage to Nike, which was one of the evening's sponsors. Said Greg, one of the cheerleaders, "Everyone here seems really nice, and they keep offering me drinks. Which isn't a good idea for us. At least not until we've finished holding people in the air."

Steven Klein's Bridgehampton benefit wasn't the only fashion party out east on Saturday night. Jill Stuart and her husband Ron Curtis celebrated their daughter Morgan's 21st birthday in nearby Sagaponack too. That meant a cake, a tent, a hot tub, and a bar that was never less than six people deep the entire evening. "Scary, isn't it?" asked Stuart, who has two other daughters, one who's 18 (and spent part of the night dancing on the white booths with her older sister) and another who's 12. "I can't believe I have a girl that can drive, vote, and drink—legally—now."

Romney Leader reports from Copenhagen fashion week

MoonSpoonSaloon, a new addition to the calendar, was much-hyped in the lead-up to its show. A collaboration between artist Tal R and former costume designer Sarah Sachs, it aims to create 99 looks for its inaugural season, with each look available in a limited-edition batch of 99. Its debut at the Royal Danish Theater was very much art for art's sake. Ballerinas performed interpretive dance in the clothes, which were court jesterlike in their use of primary colors and voluminous fits. On the other end of the spectrum was denim line Won Hundred, where everything behind the season's collection was recorded in meticulous detail. Liner notes listed 50 ideas designer Nikolaj Nielsen liked and 50 ideas he disliked when conceiving the current line. A second page offered a rundown of the David Lynch-esque video that ran during the show, even listing key symbols for guests to look out for. The actual clothes, in contrast, were refreshingly bare-bones, and standout pieces for women included a boxy twill jacket and baggy drawstring jeans.

Romney Leader reports from Copenhagen fashion week.

You'd think that back-to-back shows from morning to night would leave little chance to do touristy things in a new city, but yesterday afternoon had me crisscrossing the Sortedams Sø to experience a number of landmarks (in the name of fashion, of course). Charlotte Eskildsen's Designers Remix Collection—so popular here that she has a boutique in the Copenhagen Airport—was held at the old elephant house in the city zoo. Attendees took in the sights (and smells) behind metal barriers while models Lisa Cant and Emma Karlsson took their first spins in Copenhagen down the well-worn cement catwalk.

There's an epidemic in the fashion industry, one that threatens the very nature of sample sales and show coverage: pregnancy (who wants to think about pencil skirts with a child in utero?) This reproductive craze was most vivid at a baby shower that Kathryn Neale Shaffer and Ashley Bryan hosted for Vanity Fair's Alexis Bryan-Morgan at the NYC home of Anna Wintour yesterday evening, where there were no fewer than four expectant mothers: Bryan and Neale Shaffer are both enceinte, as is Theory's Melissa Weiss and Alice + Olivia's Stacey Bendet. And there are more: The Chanel press office has had two recent pregnancies, and in the mother office (so to speak) there will be three Style.com babies by the end of the year. This isn't the first time in history that the number of pregnancies have gone up in a recession; explained one (non-pregnant) party guest, "Everything is just too expensive right now. Sex is free." A blunt explanation, certainly, which another person added to: "And the kids will help keep the economy moving." That reminds me: Anybody want to go in on a baby line? I know quite a lot of people who will be shopping for onesies real soon.

Romney Leader reports from Copenhagen fashion week.

Those plucky enough to endure the rain last night were treated to a magical experience on the grounds of Brøndsalen: Stine Goya's La Cité Perdu (the Lost City) collection. By the time the show started, both guests (including the designer's ex-flame Henrik Vibskov) and runway were soaked, and model Gertrud Hegelund was cheered as she climbed to the top of the mountainlike runway. The eerie a cappella version of Radiohead's "Creep" heightened the sensory experience.

Compared to the power breakfasting that goes on at the corner of Little West 12th Street and Ninth Avenue, Café Cluny, just down the street, is a happily sleepy and quiet alternative. But spotted there this morning sipping coffee and noshing on scrambled eggs and toast: Elle creative director Joe Zee, former Barneys CEO Howard Socol, Peter Som PR director Hallie Chrisman, and…wait for it…Thom Browne. Has the dyed-in-the-wool Pastis regular changed his routine? According to his reps, no—it was probably just a meeting.

Things weren't exactly going to plan at last night's post-screening dinner at the Plaza Athénée for Woody Allen's newest film, "Vicky Cristina Barcelona," about two American women sowing some wild oats in the Spanish city. Since neither the director, Vicky (Rebecca Hall), or Cristina (Scarlett Johansson) were in attendance, all the responsibility fell on the delicate yet robust shoulders of one Penélope Cruz, another of the film's stars. There were seating issues—Eddie Vedder was late but heaven forbid anyone meander near his empty table, Russell Simmons arrived with six friends—and when one guest asked for a Diet Coke instead of the sponsored sherry to go with her dinner, the waiter's response was a curt "Give me your credit card immediately" (the tally to keep the DC flowing for the guest and some pals at dinner came to three figures). But then in walked the sultry "Pené"—pronounced like the noodle, which is apparently one way Ms. Cruz's friends refer to her. "I would pay for all the Diet Coke in the world to sit next to her," a guest sighed. (That honor went to Harvey Weinstein and to the man Weinstein called his hero earlier in the evening, Javier Bardem.) Cruz sauntered in wearing a black cocktail dress and a blazer, having politely declined the many gowns she was offered. "I'm too tired," she told Tara Subkoff. "This is my third day of press, and I could just not do a big dress." As the plates and empty bottles of expensive soda were cleared away (you don't want to know what wine cost a dinner guest), however, things slowly got back to normal. Vedder and Bardem doodled on postcards together; Russell Simmons began an animated conversation with Ann Dexter-Jones and Lola Schnabel, both of whom put on their favorite red frocks for the night; Anthony Kiedis and Cruz shared a table and talked about summer plans. Open bar or not, all was well in celebrity-ville by 1 a.m.

Romney Leader reports from Copenhagen fashion week

It's intended as a showcase for Danish talent, but at the start of Copenhagen fashion week, a certain American is stealing the show. "So you are here with Paris Hilton?" the man making my falafel sandwich asks me. Though the heiress's high-profile visit to meet with her Danish handbag designers coincides with fashion week, she will likely not attend a single event—and rumor has it that her demands of 50,000,000 Danish kroner (about $10,350,000) just to show up have been universally rebuffed.

The big show of the day was Noir, where I caught up with Iekeliene Stange (above) backstage. "I like my clothing to tell a story," she told me, "composed of many different parts." Here's the current narrative:

Like the MisShapes themselves, Tuesday night's party in honor of the female member of that DJ trio was shrouded in mystery. There were reports that the evening was in honor of Leigh Lezark's upcoming appearance in a powerful mall fashion brand's fall campaign; I heard it was to celebrate a movie she had just starred in; and one report even speculated that the night was about her debut in a new rock band. Turns out the reason for the congregation of nearly every young twink with a trilby hat, suspenders, vintage T-shirt, and tight black jeans (or some variation thereof) was much simpler: It was Lezark's birthday (though look for her in the fall Gap campaign). "I don't know how it got so twisted," said a Nini Ricci-clad Lezark from her perch next to her boyfriend, actor Max Minghella. "It's my birthday. So I'm not even working tonight." She wasn't, but her partners in crime, Geordon Nicol and Greg K., were spinning tunes for a gaggle of her friends, including Jessica Stam, Byrdie Bell, Heidi Mount, Genevieve Jones, Charlotte Ronson, and Bonnie Morrison. Although held in the bourgeois world of the Rose Bar in the Gramercy Park Hotel, things were decidedly downtown and Lezark-appropriate—at one point Mick Rock found himself ashing a cigarette into an iPod deck. "But that's what's so great about Leigh; she can do her anything anywhere," Stam said of the birthday girl.

The must-have fashion week accessory seems to be the charity tee. Last season, Vogue staffers were hawking T-shirts for a worthy cause (7th on Sale). At this year's Copenhagen fashion week—which kicks off today; watch this space for coverage—the Danes are using the same ploy to raise money to fight eating disorders. The shirts, which have slogans such as "Eating Is the New Black," were designed by Klaus Samsøe & e-types. May Andersen and Oliver Bjerrehuus are featured in the accompanying campaign, which grew out of the Ethical Charter to protect Danish models that was established last year. Talk about fine Daning.

Now I've been to my fair share of movie screenings in this town, and I can say with some authority that last night's Peggy Siegal-hosted New York premiere of "Pineapple Express," a film that many classify as a hybrid of "Half Baked" and "True Lies," was a tad odd. Or maybe "blurry" is a better word. For one, when the director and cast came up to introduce the film, which is typically a quick affair with a few pleasantries at these types of functions, the speeches veered into profane and pro-marijuana territory. As the likes of James Franco, Seth Rogan, and Rosie Perez ("Holy s--t, it's Rosie Perez," was how the producer introduced her) took the stage, there was a "Holy F--k," two "Jesus Christs," one "Get high!," and at least three calls to "Smoke weed!" "We're watching a pot movie," one of the producers explained, "so I'm looking for a little more enthusiasm!" Enthusiasm from potheads is a bit of an oxymoron, no? Anyhoo, at a self-conducted pre-screening poll, I discovered more than a dozen patrons (including socialites, models, musicians, and other respected members of the New York scene) had made personal tributes to the herbal remedies romanticized in the film, so to speak. "Why was only Seth Rogan allowed to get into character?" one of these people asked. "I'm a Method audience member." At the after-party at Tenjune, it was hard to tell if things were getting weirder, or if I just had a contact high. 'Cause I could have sworn I saw Rosie Perez stroll into the VIP area holding hands and getting snuggly with Ed Norton.

There's Mother's Day, and Father's Day, and National Potato Chip Day, so why not a day to celebrate unmentionables? The folks at Freshpair got well and truly behind that idea with a celebration of National Underwear Day last night. New Myla face Lydia Hearst took on hosting duties, and Diesel, Sean John, and Natori were among the brands sending their skivvies down the runway setup at Espace. And—long story short—if you promise camera crews two solid hours of half-naked models, well, the media circus will indeed arrive on cue. For Hearst, however, the nuttiness was nothing compared to what she's been dealing with lately. "I'm making this film with Tara Subkoff for Bebe, kind of a takeoff on 'Kiss Me Deadly,' but, like, imagine Lindsay Lohan is the main character," she explained. "And anyway, we've been shooting sort of guerrilla style, and at one point, I've got paparazzi crowded all around me and I'm supposed to kiss this girl…" Perhaps a National Meta Scandal Day is in order.

Gwyneth Paltrow has pinpointed another fashionable trend, and this time it doesn't have a thing to do with the gladiator sandal. In this YouTube video, the London-based actress reminds Americans abroad that just because they don't live in the U.S. doesn't mean they can't vote. The video is pretty appropriate for those working in the fashion industry, which has quite a large number of people living abroad (Paris, dahling) and an even larger number of people who don't plan shooting schedules around politics (Election Day is November 4, btw). The organization behind the video, Vote From Abroad, can help even those who aren't paperwork savvy—you know who you are, fashion people—get things in order for absentee voting. While the site is run by Democrats, the point is to vote, no matter what party you support (and we're not talking about the after-party).

"It's actually on my calling card. I say 'Hello, nice to meet you, I'm a one-of-a-kind fashion icon.' " Brooke Shields on being billed as a "One of a Kind Fashion Icon" on the invite for the party that J. Mendel and Sevan hosted in her honor last night.

Scandinavian fashion is generally described as being well-designed at a good price, but it's aiming to be NICE, thanks to a collaborative initiative by the Nordic Fashion Association (comprised of the Swedish Fashion Council, the Icelandic Fashion Council, Oslo Fashion Week, Helsinki Design Week, and the Danish Fashion Institute), which will be formally inaugurated tomorrow. The NFA are behind the Nordic Initiative Clean and Ethical (NICE), which aims to promote sustainability and responsibility in fashion production. Their first plan of action is to formulate a Base Code of Conduct to be launched and signed at the United Nations Global Climate Summit in Copenhagen next year. Isn't that, well, nice?

As a pleasant breeze wafted through the Upper East Side fur and ball-gown emporium J. Mendel on Monday evening, talk fell on a typically August subject: summer holidays. So and so was off to Ibiza, another already tanned, tight face was heading to Croatia, etc. In the middle of the vacation conversation was the brand's designer, Gilles Mendel, who was hoping he'd be able to leave Manhattan for a mere weekend. "Don't tell me, don't tell me," Mendel, who spent much of the night with his biggest—in height and wattage—customer Brooke Shields, said after he'd asked a friend about their summer plans. "I don't want to know. I'm not getting away at all." The designer is putting the finishing touches on his Spring 2009 collection and restructuring some of the New York production. "I always say I'll take August in October, but it never happens." Toward the end of the party, as guests like Ann Dexter-Jones tried on some of the Sevan jewelry on display ("I like this one with the black diamonds," Jones sneaked. "Think they'd notice if I nicked it?"), the designer returned to the topic of his plight.

"Actually, you know what, maybe I should I find someone to help in the office," Mendel said, adding that he'd love an additional set of eyes, perhaps the way Christopher Kane revitalized Versace. "So put the word out, and send 'em my way." Until then, though, he has to stay focused.

On her way out, Tinsley Mortimer, who was getting on a flight to the Mediterranean the next evening for two weeks of yachting, found a few pieces she thought would be ideal to add to her summer packing. "This stuff is perfect," she said. "Keep up the good work!"

Attention horoscope skeptics: Meet Aurora, an astrologist who studied at both Brown and in India, where, she says, "[the field] is esteemed, even by the educated and professional classes." The five-times great-granddaughter of Cornelius Vanderbilt and the great-granddaughter of Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney (founder of the Whitney Museum), Aurora spent much of her Manhattan childhood reading up on horoscopes and the stars—in the sky, in glossy magazines, and at family dinners. Now 26, she's made her interest a full-time job, with both a private astrology practice and a year-old Web site. And she ain't bad. "My very first post for the site was a look at the chart for the moving day of the Beckhams to the U.S., and I noticed that the placement of the sun and moon in the sixth house suggested that medical problems could put a damper on their life in Los Angeles," she says, referencing David's sidelining foot injury. "I also accurately predicted the Taurus baby boom this spring—Cate Blanchett, Jessica Alba, Tori Spelling." Although she's now based in the U.S. Virgin Islands, Aurora comes back to New York at least once a month for special readings; that's when she sees her fashion fans, like Cat Deeley, Cory Kennedy, Charlotte Ronson, Annelise Peterson, and Arden Wohl. ("I find that personal style falls very much under the realm of astrological influence. My monthly Fashion Idol column demonstrates how major fashion designers create collections that are in line with their signs and charts," she says.) Although Aurora has a loyal following online, she prefers her in-person meetings, and is available for appointments when she's in New York, which is next scheduled for mid August. "For me, astrology should be fun and uplifting. But more than anything, I like to use astrology as a tool to empower people, to allow them to understand themselves better. And all of my consultations are completely private, of course."

Betsey Johnson and longtime business partner Chantal Bacon kicked up their glittery heels last night at the label's Wooster Street store to commemorate three decades of girly decadence. Characters like Patrick McDonald and Julia Allison sipped pink Champagne while Bee Shaffer and Andrea Linett of "Lucky" perused rack after rack of ruffles and whimsy. The crowd of Betsey devotees and downtown rockabillies—that created the strange visual juxtaposition of tattoos and cartoon prints—noshed on tiny cupcakes, a well-stocked candy bar, and delicious tiny sliders. Unfortunately, the pink on the leopard prints wasn't the only hot thing in the boutique. (Fellow revelers in the steamy space were eyeing my paper fan even more hungrily than the thimble-sized lobster under glass offered by the waiters.) But in spite of the sweltering temps, the laughter and intermittent squeals of "I've got to have this!" surely indicate that Ms. Johnson and Ms. Bacon have another 30 fun and yes, cartwheel-filled years ahead of them.

When Michelle Obama worked the Manhattan social circuit in June, notably being the guest of an honor at a fundraiser at Calvin Klein's West Village pad, more than one rumor made the rounds about her sartorial relationship with Vogue editor at large André Leon Talley. Was he the unofficial adviser on her campaign look? Would he take her under the wings of his giant Chanel cape as he has other high profile African-American women, like Jennifer Hudson and the Williams sisters? We caught up with Talley at Michael's —his local haunt—and got the real story. "That was the first time I connected with Michelle Obama, and let me go on record saying that I have never, ever given her any advice on what to wear," he proclaimed about the event he hosted with Anna Wintour and Shelby Bryan at Klein's, which raised $1million for the Obama for America organization. "To put the record straight, I think that Michelle Obama does not need advice." He revealed that he had no involvement in choosing the Isabel Toledo gown she wore to Klein's dinner, nor did he find the $148 Donna Ricco dress, bought at her local White House/Black Market shop, which she wore to co-host "The View," but he was in full support of both choices. Elaborating on the topic, which Talley is prone to do, he added that he's most impressed with the Chicago resident's chic sophistication, à la Jackie O. "But it's not about Jackie Kennedy being a woman of privilege. She has, in many ways, taken some of Jackie's elements of simplicity, elegant restraint, three strands of bubble-gum pearls, the flip of hair, solid colors, simple lines, and clothes—and it's working for her. I think she's incredible."

Bee Shaffer is almost as much of a front-row fixture as her mother, Anna Wintour. But the Columbia University student, who's already been a columnist for London's Daily Telegraph, is only now reaching the milestone age of 21. The friends-and-family party is this weekend, at her mother's country house near Mastic, Long Island. Many happy returns, Bee.

Outside of Lulu Frost's Lafayette Street studio last night, Erin Fetherston and her husband, Hedi Ferjani, were catching their breath. "It's five flights up, and there's no elevator," Fetherston smiled and moaned, as her husband chimed in, "but the live Cuban band is definitely worth it. OK, fine, the campañeras are definitely worth it." Upstairs, at a party hosted by Alexis Bryan Morgan and Elettra Rossellini Wiedemann for Lulu Frost, the high-end costume- and vintage-jewelry line founded by Lisa Salzer, people were stretching their legs. "Imagine doing THAT three times a day," the designer sighed, adding that the vertical hike has helped her in the shapely legs department. Salzer launched her line when she was still a student at Dartmouth College. "Everything I do is made from recycled, vintage, antique pieces," she said. "Sometimes it takes a while and sometimes it doesn't." As the party wore on, and folks like Carole Radziwill and Luigi Tadini hit the dance floor, things started to get sweaty. "But I don't want to hear anybody else complain," the seven-and-a-half months pregnant Bryan Morgan said. "I'm climbing those stairs for two."

Friday July 25
"Put on pants." My husband's practical suggestion annoys me. I love my new Earnest Sewn short shorts and I know I am not changing, but I also know that he'll insist on blasting the cold air the whole drive out to Southampton. It's all part of our ongoing temperature wars. I finish breakfast at The Mercer and hustle down to A.P.C and pick up the heart patch-pocket navy sweater I've had my eye on. Then I head straight into Georgia Tapert Living to score one of her cotton herringbone throws. I have about 50 at home in Malibu. They feel like cashmere, but are cotton, so you wash them in the machine. Today I choose baby blue.

In Southampton, I change into my Missoni bikini and take a dip in the pool. I love the crochet thing, but it only works in calm waters. One wave in the ocean and those little triangles rearrange themselves in the most unflattering positions.

Photographer Todd Selby has shot everyone from Dolly Parton to sunbathers in Central Park. Now he's documenting New York City personalities in their domestic glory—everyone from writer Tom Wolfe and his quilt of hats to artist Meryl Smith and her bear outfits—and offering them up on his new Web site, www.theselby.com. The effect is a series of home decor inspiration boards. "A person's home can tell you much more about their overall aesthetic than what you see when they're outside of their element, walking down the street," Selby says. He finishes each profile with a handwritten questionnaire that includes everything from the subject's favorite fruit to a Sharpie-drawn portrait of the shutterbug himself.

Beth Ostrosky probably wasn't the only guest talking about the joy of back bends at last night's party at Pure Yoga on the Upper East Side. To celebrate the opening of the Asian health and fitness company's first American outpost, a more-limber-than-average crowd sipped "teatinis" and watched yoga models curl and uncurl at the new 86th Street space. Ostrosky, who has incorporated the ancient art into her training for the New York marathon, said she doesn't have a favorite type of yoga. "I like it all," she said, including hot-and-sweaty (and always potentially awkward) Bikram yoga. "It makes you look cool, when you come out and you're all wet," she explained. As waiters hoisting platters of tofu cakes shuffled by, she confessed that there IS one thing about yoga class that does make her self-conscious, though. "Whenever there are people behind me, I just think the whole time that they're looking at my big fat bum," she said. But she doesn't blame the yoga: "All women have issues with their bums."

Beating the SoCal heat this summer might not be so problematic, after all, now that the 60 Thompson has opened its bi-level rooftop lounge. The outdoor space, which is situated smack-bang in the middle of Beverly Hills, comes complete with 360-degree panoramic views, private cabanas, and plush chaise longues, all of which are grouped around the hotel's very own Swarovski-tiled swimming pool. If the location and the amenities don't tempt locals to reconsider the drive out to coastline beaches this summer, then the ultra-chic assortment of aperitifs and cocktails served at dusk by genetically blessed actor/model types (this is L.A, after all) should seal the deal. We'll see you there.

Yesterday evening saw the opening of the Prada flagship store in San Francisco, an event that socials such as Vanessa Getty (pregnant but still working her Prada), Sloan Barnett, and Tatiana Sorokko all turned out for. Most dramatic outfit of the night award goes to Sorokko, who wore a pale pistachio green embroidered cape that paid homage to the label's distinctively hued walls.

The Cinema Society and Victorinox gave guests--including Mamie Gummer, Jessica Joffe, and Hamish Bowles—occasion to revisit "Brideshead Revisited" last night, at the New York premiere of Julian Jarrold's new film adaptation of Evelyn Waugh's classic novel of class friction and forbidden love in interwar Britain. The after-party at the Gramercy Hotel rooftop was nice enough, but it had nothing on the impossibly posh bygone world depicted on-screen: waistcoats, white linen suits, and sybaritic afternoons spent punting at Oxford, where an aspiring artist (Matthew Goode) falls in with a glamorous aristocrat (Ben Whishaw) burdened by Catholic guilt. Goode seemed in awe of the period grandeur. "You'd have to go to Buckingham Palace" to find an English estate as majestic as Yorkshire's Howard Castle, the film's Brideshead stand-in, he declared. Co-star Hayley Atwell revealed that she donned an "itchy bob" wig for the role. Also, Spanx. "They were so restricting, and poor Julia is such a restricted character that it actually gave me a lot more to work with," she insisted—surely one of the most high-brow justifications ever given for covert curve control. But not a bad one, come to think of it.

Though there may be newer locales to explore (we hear Lisbon's heating up), few holiday destinations can match the glamour of Ibiza, as evidenced by our recent photo foray there. As we were out and about this weekend, here's who we learned is making a beeline for the island this summer: Kate Moss, Naomi Campbell, Marc Jacobs (he's apparently snagged a gorgeous casa), the photography team of Mert and Marcus, and Vogue stylist Edward Enninful. Just in case you were looking for more reasons to blow the budget.

With the seemingly never-ending and rapidly expanding Resort collections wrapping up last week and the Spring 2009 collections just around the corner, how could anyone deal with another fashion week, you ask? Well, that's exactly what those covering the swim market (or those looking for an excuse for a weekend in Miami) spent the last few days doing. Things got under way on Thursday night, with May Andersen opening the Diesel swim show. The following evening, Caroline Winberg flew into town for one night only to fête Ocean Drive magazine (she's on the cover) at its party on the roof of the Delano Hotel. "I was trying really hard to be sexy," she told us of the cover shoot, before revealing the rest of her summer plans: a tour of Europe and then a vacay in Costa Rica. Oh, to be a Swedish supermodel. Saturday night was swim's busiest, with parties for La Perla's Mare swim line at the recently opened Gansevoort Hotel, a party for Chloé's swim collection at the Setai Hotel, and some bash that Helena Christensen was hosting (we didn't make it—so many parties, so little time). Gabrielle Union was the big draw at the La Perla party, though she didn't drop by just for the cocktails—she had a plan: "I love this stuff. I'm gonna send my man into the store immediately to shop for me," she told us before heading off to dinner on a friend's boat.

Hugo Boss is prized as the slickest and sleekest show during Berlin fashion week--the reason Germany's most high-profile brand was the first on this season's schedule. The girls and boys in monochromatic suits glided past Kim Cattrall, Veruschka, Mischa Barton, and Germany's top-tier local lights, looking supremely poised and polished. So when Tanya Dziahileva sheepishly slipped off her heels toward the end, it might have been the most onlooker-stumping moment of the week. "But she was so professional," remarked Barton afterward. "The heels were obviously hurting all the girls, but she dealt with it really well." Barton was clearly impressed by Tanya, who elegantly walked on barefoot tiptoes, holding her heels and not cracking a smile until the last leg of the catwalk length. The American starlet was less taken with the after-show spread. "The line is way too long for coleslaw," she pouted. "Not professional."

The August issue of Tatler magazine is just now hitting our shores, and its annual Most Invited list is happily satiating the social curiosities of New York's considerable number of Anglophiles. While more than one party-loving person has maneuvered to get higher on the list, we met up with one well-connected young woman in London who was not disappointed to see her ranking fall from the single digits all the way to number 94: Camilla Al Fayed. "Where have you gone, Camills?" the entry asks. "Come back, we need you. At the very least for your short skirts." To answer the first question, the Harrods heiress has been keeping a much lower profile and steering clear of the party scene, including events like the haute couture and her friends Elton John and David Furnish's annual White Tie and Tiara ball. (According to many, this is a good thing, as there was more than one Paris Hilton comparison in the works, which isn't really appropriate—the Paris Ritz, which Al Fayed's family owns, ain't quite a Hilton, people.) Instead, she's been spending some time in Los Angeles scoping out spaces for some possible retail ventures and getting more involved with the family business, an undertaking that has no doubt pleased the Al Fayed clan. "It can be very easy to become just another party girl, especially in this town," she told us. "But that is not what I want to be."

Paper cover boy Pharrell Williams (that's him swinging an oversize croc Birkin on this month's cover) took his time taking the stage at the party the magazine threw in his honor at Santos Party House last night. Although the event was billed to run from 8 to 11 p.m., the hip-hop star didn't appear until 11:15. Once on, Williams was all business. Though he hasn't seemed to mind having his picture snapped in the past (a given for anyone who attends a Louis Vuitton fashion show), he steered the crowd back to the music last night. "All right now, kids, turn off all the cameras and put them away," he said. "And put your hands in the air. Say hell, yeah!" "He's so cute," said Paper's Mickey Boardman, before leaving his handbag with Nigo to take laps around the room. "I love a party." Pause. "Fine, I love a Paper party."

With one year left in her twenties, Ferebee Bishop Taube decided the best place to celebrate her birthday would be the Great Jones Cafe (which one guest labeled the "best place for comfort food when you're experiencing the world's worst hangover"). Joining her last night were friends