A Little of the Old In and Out



Above: Patrons of the Arts, Nina Griscom, Leonel Piraino, and Candace Bushnell sip the distilled blood of one hundred Rumanian peasants while posing for photographs after a perfectly "ducky (air kiss)" evening at the ballet. (image via NySocialDiary)

In: Candace Bushnell. Last night was not unlike any other night for The Corsair. Barhopping is an art form and we take it seriously. We found ourselves confused and inebriated near Lincoln Center around midnight in a rush of tuxedoed people on their way out of some swishy occasion. As we stumbled, snaking and spiralling our way through the pagan streets, like Encolpius in Fellini's Magnum Opus, The Satyricon, a tall, thin exquisitely dressed lady walked side by side with her handsome but vacuous looking husband (maybe she likes 'em big and real dumb?) passed us. As we were drunk, she looked rather like Marcel Duchamp's Nude Descending A Staircase.

It was Candace Bushnell, creator of Sex and the City, social vampire prowling the night, scourge of new york media chattering classes. But I'll be damned if she wasn't a hottie in that sort of Upper-East Side-of-Manhattan-reptilian-kept-mistress kind of way. You know what I mean? What we're saying is -- The Corsair would definitely hit that. Mitigating factor: We were three sheets to the wind on "The Cutty".

NYSocialDiary talks to Candace:

"Mr. Askegard who may be the tallest ballet star dancing today (he�s six-four, weighs about 185) is also the husband of Candace Bushnell, creator of 'Sex In the City.' She was present tonight. During intermission we were commenting on how muscular he looks on stage whereas in life, he seems tall and lanky.

"The musculature we mentioned was a dancer�s waist on down. Otherwise, she said, he is a pretty thin guy although he has to cut back on his eating before the season begins. Today, for example, she said he had edamame for lunch. She herself went out and had pasta (and had a good laugh over the difference).

"I asked her if it was a thrill to see her husband on stage. She said more than that, she was always nervous, nervous about him getting through the performance. At his weight, she pointed out, it�s a lot to lift for those jumps that he executed so seemingly effortlessly."

Out: eBay. First they purported to sell Britney's panties (Averted Gaze). Then we were harassed with Geri Halliwell's dog poop. Finally, the last straw, former Real Worlder Trishell's ass went to the highest bidder. One always thinks -- that's as low as they go, they have finally reached the bottom, they have achieved equilibrium. Goping any lower would entail reservations with Lucifer. They just can't.

They have. They're selling the Ron Artest Pacers/Pistons Brawl original CUP. You know what The Corsair is talking about. The cup that was thrown by this asshole that started it all.

The bids are up to $1,500.

In: Melissa Auf Der Maur. 7 years ago, The Corsair almost got set up on a date with Melissa Auf Der Maur by her cousins. To this day we regret not pressing the issue, but we were working at New York Magazine in the daytime, and Sonicnet (now part of MTVInteractive) at night, attending crazy Silicon Alley functions, on all sorts of pharmaceuticals (Bolivian Marching Powder? Vitamin C?), it was the 90s, a fairy tale post Cold War prosperity pervaded the young and The Corsair was in the heart of it all, who the hell had time to "date"? Yes, as you can guess, The Corsair blew it big time.

FashionWireDaily went shopping with Courtney Love's former bass player, like we could have been doing if we played our cards right:

"In fact, the 32-year-old Auf der Maur � who played bass in Hole and The Smashing Pumpkins before releasing her eponymous solo CD earlier this year � was one of the first celebrities to wear Theyskens designs back in 1999, when a stylist gave the svelte singer-songwriter a Theyskens latex gown to wear for a photo shoot. 'It was the most gorgeous fantasy piece I had ever worn,' she recalled. 'I sent him a Polaroid of me in it with a long letter saying You make the clothes of my Victorian futuristic super hero dreams. I love your vision and your idea of beauty and hope to meet you one day.'

" ... Onstage, she's all about her Zaldy rock-and-roll 'uniform': sleeveless high-neck top with peek-a-boo lace insert and fitted, leather-tasseled pants tucked into knee-high black leather boots that she has custom-made in her native Montreal. 'I wanted it to be a serious respectable uniform,' she told us. 'Like a Victorian soldier, with that kind of modest exposure � all the nice, sneaky ways they showed the female secrets.'"

Out: Cocktail Parties. The Corsair loves James Saint James, who, you will soon see, is nothing short of blogtastic. But the subject of his obsession escapes us. The cocktail party is just an excuse to drink the blood of Rumanian peasants and roasted Chilean babies. You think The Corsair is kidding, all shits and giggles -- huh? -- but one day, one day soon (The Corsair ruefully shakes his fist at the reader), when they lock me up in a detention center and this blog abruptly gets pulled down, then you'll believe, then you'll see that The Corsair was hipping you to what's going on!

Anyhoo (The Corsair calms down, sips The Cutty), James St. James loves those damn things:

"A photo book of charity balls! I LOVE charity balls! The grande dames. The social X-rays. The puffy chic of Nouvelle Society. Remember the '80s? Women like Mercedes and Gayfryd and Nan � MY GOD, NAN KEMPNER! Oh, I loved those women. LOVED. THOSE. WOMEN. I once d�coupaged a coffee table entirely in Pat Buckley�s face. It�s true: I�m a total hag-fag. Whatever. I call it biddy-ism � my secret shame. I get hard reading Suzy."

Oh dear.