British import Joanna Coles is already doing a fine job making Marie Claire a title worth talking about. When it comes to Hearst, we usually dedicate our energy to chronicling Atoosa Rubenstein's MySpace friend requests — but suddenly Coles influence has given the staid (though healthy, circulation-wise) Marie Claire an injection of sexy. To be sure, it helps to "jump into" Cathie Black's car.

But around the new MC, there is one type of injection that doesn't seem to have a home: Botox. Joanna told us so herself last night – pointing to the wrinkles in her forehead – amid apple martinis and a live band at a private screening for Sherrybaby at Hearst's new glass tower. And that sort of thing makes sense, given Joanna's feelings toward nose jobber Ashlee Simpson and her kin.

Last night's event, however, was not just a chance for the former More editor to shake hands with other Hearsties while proving she can pull off an all-white ensemble. The editor was also hosting September covergirl Maggie Gyllenhaal (who arrived flanked with soon-to-be baby daddy Peter Sarsgaard) — Joanna's first issue for the magazine (it helped that she learned how to pronounce Maggie's last name).

Though reluctant to say much about where she's moving (she and Peter living in the West Village, though plenty of rumors suggest a move to Park Slope is imminent) and whether brother Jake will be playing Lance Armstrong (and here we though that bit of news was already confirmed be PR types), Maggie did let on that the paparazzi scene in Los Angeles is, to our surprise, much more bareable than it is here in New York. "We were at breakfast yesterday with my brother and all of a sudden these 12 photographers appeared and started taking our picture," she says. In L.A., the paps leave her alone. Who knew?

But it was during the post-screening Q&A that Maggie let on a more incriminating detail of her movie career. After her success with Secretary, where the director allowed her to control much of her character's portrayal, she actually thought Hollywood types would solicit her input about the characters she played. Not so, she found out while filming a movie she wouldn't name (though our guess is Mona Lisa Smile). It was "horrible" and they made her cry.

And crying she did plenty of last night — though only on screen, and only in between exposing her breasts and having sex with every other male character in the film. And that, apparently, is just the type of Hollywood Joanna Coles wants in her magazine. By which we mean, of course, natural breasts.