Der Kommissar IS in town. I know, I partied with him last night.

My first clue was running into my debutante socialite friend there. You know, the one who knows all the fancy New York people and introduced me to the correspondent from Al Jazeera. By the end of the night, I figured I might just be in the running for 2nd Fanciest American; you know, silver to ole' Jimbo's gold standard. Why so fancy? Well.....

Last night I attended a special invitation-only soiree at the Guggenheim, held to celebrate the opening of an exhibit of never-before-seen-outside-of-Russia collections. There were performances by musicians and dancers, as well as free drinks (including some kind of vodka that's apprently not even on the market yet. How very.). As for the art, some of it was incredible. The icons - which I came to learn made up the most expensive part of the collections and were from as far back as the late 12th century - were breathtaking. Some pieces of the later work - in particular this mixed-media sculpture piece of a man on a train - were fantastic. Some others, not so much.

I like dressing up, I like art, and I like weird parties. Check, check, and check.