BlackBook Magazine

On last night's Gossip Girl, one of New York's newest temples of velvet-rope-ism made a cameo appearance. Serena's mysterious drunken blackout while out on the town had her thinking (and telling others) that she accidentally killed someone -- squeal! But the next day, who should call boyfriend Dan on Serena's abandoned cellphone but a bartender from 1Oak, claiming the phone had been left at the bar (along with a substantial unpaid tab). Though 1Oak was off-camera on GG, take a look inside the club via our photo gallery.

This Week's Highlights: It's you! It's them! It's dancing! Los Campesinos shuffles your feet on Thursday 5/15; discuss the rise of the image and the fall of the word at the New York Photo Festival from 5/15-5/18. For details, check our complete New York events calendar after the jump. Got an event worth listing? Let us know at .

Though still tussling with their landlord over a long-delayed opening, Chinatown's upcoming Red Egg restaurant promises to be a chic little dim sum haven. Created by Openshop|Studio (partners Mark Kroeckel and Adam Hayes), the space is very mod and organic in looks. The designers aim for "subtle and clean with mood shifting from relaxing and quiet to energized and active." See a few pics and plans in our gallery.

"Wait, was that the night we were all pole-dancing at subMercer?" asks director Kimberly Peirce, the visionary behind Boy's Don't Cry and this year's Stop-Loss. She laughs from her belly, and it's incongruous, given that I'm here as her guest, to watch her accept the Andrew Sarris Award at Columbia University, her alma mater. After a montage sequence that projects her most moving scenes for a crowd of aspiring filmmakers and aging professors, Peirce takes to the stage. She scans the room, and says, "People always ask me for advice, for that one thing that might help them 'make it' in film." Aside from truth and passion and all the ideals that one learns in film school, she shrugs her shoulders and jumps into an anecdote about how she found herself hitting rock-bottom on national television.

Rogan Gregory, the eco-friendly designer behind Rogan—think natural fibers and hoodies, American Apparel without the ambiguously underaged exploitation—celebrated the release of his Target collection with a three-day shopping event at Barneys New York. The 60-style line, which ranges in price from $15 to $45, will be available in stores and online May 18. Celebrity friends like Amanda Peet, Diane Kruger, Alan Cumming, and Waris Ahluwalia came out to toast the collection. We wanted to make a joke about Rogan sounding like Rogaine, which makes us think of Hair Club for Men, and then segue into, "I'm not just the president, I'm also a customer." But it's Friday afternoon, so instead, we'll just show the video after the jump.

"Moscow Mule?" asks the waiter, as he proudly displays a sticky-sweet tray populated by an assortment of cocktails named after Russian donkeys. "Mule?" we italicize. He might as well have offered me a Burger Meat-tini. Still, thirsty, we drink. This is the last time our friend will come bearing gifts. You see, the private dinner to celebrate the launch of Unruly Heir at Bloomingdale's quickly devolved into a spectacle of starving socialites and double kisses at Thor.

Like so many nights before, the ever innocent “after work cocktail” slides into pre-show tequila shots with a band, crashing an awards ceremony, and the notion of staying in and getting caught up with Gossip Girl is somehow replaced by the thump of bass and the clink of glasses. GG will have to wait. Last night I came to the Highline Ballroom to do what we writers call "work." I was interviewing the buzzy band Bitter:Sweet, whose albums have been securing a lot of airtime on shows like Grey’s Anatomy, not to mention the theme song for Lipstick Jungle. I’m instructed prior to the interview that I cannot actually stay for the show, as it’s a “private engagement.” I take it in stride, drinking a bottle of water as I sit through Bitter:Sweet’s sound check, which is quite entertaining in itself.

I've been to many red carpet events. I've participated in many a tragic photo op. I've also seen my share of reality TV crews, who trail their subjects, hoping for something "real" (in under five takes). But last night, while sitting outside the Waverly Inn, I witnessed my first ever paparazzi maelstrom. It wasn't gradual as one might expect. Salman Rushdie strolled out with friends, relatively unbothered by the four or five photographers straddling the periphery of the restaurant. Stylist Rachel Zoe stepped out for some air, and a few pictures were taken—nothing big. Upon leaving, Charlie Rose smiled at the invasive camera guys, who almost seemed to bow down in deference. One of the more plucky members of the group asked him to pose for a picture. He did. All was well as I sipped on a glass of white wine, happy with the warm spring breeze. And then Fergie walked out.

The Eyebeam Art and Technology Center, West 21st Street, around 10 p.m. A benefit honoring Craig Newmark, founder of craigslist for his “non-conformist success and commitment to social activism.” We shared a glance across the bar, about 15 minutes after the Walkmen took the stage. You smiled at me and did that thing where you tie the stem of a maraschino cherry into a knot with your tongue. I was distracted when the android duck that was rolling about taking Polaroids of everyone, bumped into my foot.

It would seem that this is the year of the musical. With In The Heights, Altar Boyz, and Sweeney Todd getting major accolades, the gaping hole Rent is soon to leave once it takes off from the theater circuit in June surely won't have any problems being filled with new musicals trying to establish themselves as not lame.