At the Van Cleef & Arpels show last night, we learned a lot of things about New York society.

First off, living in "changing" neighborhood and working in our pajamas, it’s easy to forget that there is a whole portion of New York who spends more on maintaining a wrinkle free neck than we make. Secondly, that without a press pass, we’d never have the fashion sense or wealth to get invited to these things.

The “red carpet”—which was really more of a magenta—was littered with D-list stars. Julie Newmar arrived in a cab. Her companion was wearing a Paul Smith suit with pink strips that would have made Andy Dick blush. Sarah Michelle Gellar looked kind of old, but smiled as if her mortgage depended on it. Jared Kushner was as boyishly handsome in real life as he is in ink dot drawings.

The better stars arrived later. Ashley Olsen was escorted upstairs before photographers could shout Ashley at her a million times; Eve did not make it into the show, but was happy to report that her DUI ankle bracelet was safe for the shower, but not for the tub. Due a fire code violation, other stars didn’t even make it in.

Inside the show, it was pitch black, and no one seemed interested in the actual fashion—not that there were many good views of it. Most people were just there to enjoy the open bars. Waiters gave out white Cosmopolitans, which were so good we wonder if there even was alcohol in them.

The appetizers were disappointing; we ate better at our cousin’s Bat Mitzvah. The lobster roll was forgettable, chicken curry tasted like pâté and we wouldn’t be surprised if the sushi was purchased earlier in the day at Food Emporium. Most egregious, women went around offering French fries with a small bowl of ketchup by its side.

French fries are appetizers at diners, not cocktail hours. Since no one there eats French fries, maybe they can be forgiven for not knowing better.

Earlier: Socialista: Where Sudanese Refugee-Turned-International Supermodel Types Go To Eat