In a bit of social kismet, I find myself gallery crawling up West 24th Street and suddenly face to face with the man behind the monograph gifted to me just days earlier from a gallerina friend.

Before me, stands John Currin holding court between his two adorable sons. The three are at Marianne Boesky gallery celebrating wife, mother, muse and sculptress Rachel Feinstein's opening.

Salman Rushdie gets two hugs from Feinstein dressed in divine Prada sandal-boots with gold buttons paired with a whittle waisted dress. There's an otherwordliness in the air, as she breezes by her sculpture entitled "Puritan's Delight", a broken down stage coach of sorts, making one debate the aesthetic merits of highway robbery. (Watch out, Rachel, we love that Prada satchel).

There's also Narciso Rodriguez in evergreen and orange check vintage Nike trainers, Peter Brant, and Marina Rust. The gallery lovelies Annie Rana and Amy Greenspon are both wearing skin pumps (Loeffler Randall and Proenza Schouler, respectively) along with dresses from Katy Rodriguez and Sari Gueron. Mesmerized by a troika of vulture like sculptures all tethered together to a rope, I bumble past a gaggle of hipsters sipping Saporo's and taking in the scene, reluctant to leave should Marc Jacobs perhaps turn up to fete his muse and sometime campaign starlet.