The night began at Artists Space, where Christine Kim curated a show about love and theft, sweetly entitled, "Purloined."
We've been following Ms. Kim's curatorial career since giving her an award as best new talent in 1996. After stints at Peter Blum and Gagosian, Ms. Kim started to do a traveling show of Turkish contemporary art, which was stopped by an earthquake.
Christine rebounded to become Thelma Golden's sidekick at the Studio Museum in Harlem.
Their "Freestyle" show, which will probably best be remembered for introducing Nadine Robinson, garnered all the right press in all the right places last spring.
Ms. Kim's current show is that rare group effort with a sexy concept and meat on the bone.
She got Mark Wallinger's escalator St. John video from "Sensation" and a hoary, leaden Sophie Calle piece from 1987.
There's an Armany pile of junk mail from Guy Overfelt and Nikki S. Lee's funky fotos.
Foremost is Lisa Levy's vitrine of objects that the artist purportedly stole from various establishments over the last four years.
"I was only busted once at a bar for stealing a 'do not steal' sign," the artist told us. At which point, Christine presented Levy with some teeny rubber duckies.
"I just stole these on the way over here," purred the shameless Ms. Kim.
We taxied north to Mary Boone's uptown emporium, where madame was showing some middle-aged abstracto she borrowed from Margaret Thatcher Projects.
Ms. Boone was absent, so we chided Ron Warren and the rest of Mary's well-dressed male staff. "Will Cotton and Tom Sachs are modeling fashions in this month's G.Q. What about you guys?"
The ladies who lunch were battling for cabs outside of Bergdorf's, so we grabbed a limo for Chelsea and John Newsom's solo debut at Silverstein.
John was a protégé of Earl McGrath in the 1990s, and after hanging out with Mick Jagger and Jack Nicholson, he took the water cure and began painting violent animals.
Best in show is Newsom's newest, Labor of Love, bought by Norman Dubrow, featuring heartstruck owls devouring furry little mice.
Chelsea real estate queen Anne Brigitte Siroirs diverted us to the Starrett Lehigh Building for a drink, but we were soon back battling the crowds at 529 W. 20th Street to see the fantasies of Jay Davis.
Former Smock editor Mike Weiss has effectively deboweled Stefan Stux, upgrading its galleries and private showrooms to get cash on the barrelhead for Mr. Jay's spacey musings.
We walked nine flights downstairs and contentment soon replaced chaos at Susan Reynolds' and Lance Kinz's pleasant dinner for Yek and Tim Bavington, Las Vegas lights, at Feigen Contemporary.
Their mentor, Dave Hickey, alas, couldn't make it.
"I called Dave at the casino a few weeks ago," Lance told us. "He said, 'I'm just reading that bastard on Artnet.'"
I wonder who that is?