It's not every Saturday that you glance up from your brunch menu to see an enraged Julian Schnabel charging your table. But that's exactly happened to me and a friend at the restaurant Wallsé this past weekend.

As we were busy persusing the menu, we were suddenly rushed by a bearlike man wearing a blazer and a bright blue knee-length caftan. He gestured towards my companion's dining chair, which had, unbeknownst to us, been scratching up against a wall-sized, monochromatic painting hanging behind it.

"That's ruining my painting!" he bellowed, as we rose and dutifully shifted our table away from the artwork. "It's not your fault," the aging enfant terrible continued, "it's this restaurant's!" Then he threatened to remove his paintings if they didn't get more respect.

Our shaken server told us later that Schnabel, who lives just a block away, loans Wallsé much of its art—he's friends with its chef and owner, Kurt Gutenbrunner. The painting in question was not actually painted by Schnabel, although the artist's own canvases also adorn the restaurant. While Schnabs was visibly perturbed about his painting, at least he got VIP treatment: he and his companion were served long before the spatzle and bratwurst made it to our table.

Another Schnabel Encounter

Photo: Jim Spellman/WireImage.com

On our recent flight to the BaselWorld watch fair in Switzerland, we were marveling over the concept of slow living and how someone could ever achieve such a lifestyle in the fast pace of New York. Later, while frantically negotiating our nearly impossible schedule (sixty-three appointments in three-and-a-half days), our answer came in the form of, ironically, a watch. The nifty conversation piece is Jaquet Droz's limited-edition Grande Heure 24 timepiece (only eighty-eight were produced), but we prefer to call it the "ish" watch. Forget minute accuracy. Instead, it suggests a vague estimation of time between the hours of the day, i.e. 2:30-ish or 5-ish. We quickly took the watch's witty design to heart, arriving at our next appointment around 3-ish.

Kloe, left, and Justin

Until recently, ASmallWorld.net seemed to have the "exclusive" (a.k.a. invite-only) social networking category locked up. But in New York at least, a new contender is gaining traction.

The signature feature of APrivateClub.com, a social networking website aimed at elite New York City twentysomethings, is its feature allowing members to recommend favorite local haunts—restaurants, bars, spas, etc.—and rank them on a scale of 1 to 10. Most of the members are pals of the site's young founders, Kloe Korby and Justin Belmont. The idea is that the best answer to the inevitable "where to go tonight?" question comes from friends—and friends of friends.  "If you can see the profile of a person behind a recommendation, and see who they're friends with and what their interests are, you can quickly find a place that's right for you," says Belmont, a Manhattan native whose friendship with Korby dates to their years at the Trinity School. The club also holds member events, like a recent benefit for the New Museum held at the penthouse suite at the Hotel on Rivington, and, this past February a book party for Tom Dolby's preppy tome The Sixth Form.

Currently the club has only 600 members. Good luck getting in, however: not all members even have invite privileges.

While cruising the floor at the recent SIHH watch show in Geneva, we came across a novelty timepiece perfect for the fashion lover on the go: Girard-Perregaux's ww.tc 24 Hour Shopping watch. The steel and diamond beauty ($22,750) tells the time in twenty-four different time zones, nine of which are named for famous luxury shopping districts around the world—Faubourg St. Honore, Dubai, Rodeo Drive and Bond Street, for example. What better way for jet-setters to schedule their next international shopping spree?

Akiko, left, and Kiwon

The other night my friend Kiwon Standen from Bar Blanc asked me if I wanted to meet and dine with her friend Akiko Katayama. For those of you who don't know Akiko, she is a food writer and regular judge on Iron Chef America. The chefs fear her for famously saying, "this is a bit too greasy for my palate!"

I'm no dummy, a chance to eat out with Food Network royalty? I immediately said "Yes!"

Akiko is based in New York but she had just flown in from a three-week trip in Japan. Despite her professed jetlag, she arrived at The Monday Room looking fresh as a daisy, dressed in a black turtleneck, wool shorts, tights and a killer pair of boots. The place was her pick, as she's good friends with its chef, Brad Farmerie. We started with some wine, of course. To the befuddlement of our Ernie Kovacs-looking sommelier, Akiko and another member of our party both rejected the first bottle of Pinot Noir that was poured, declaring it corked. Ouch! Fortunately, the second bottle met with approval, and we were off and running.

The menu of The Monday Room is made up of small plates, ideal for sharing. I thought I'd be able to get away with eating some of the less ambitious items but Akiko guided me through the world of game and entrails with a firm hand. She ordered the miso-baked bone marrow, the "Old-school" pig's terrine (scary!), the grilled Kobe beef tongue with babaganoush and the lamb empanada with tequila ketchup.

Akiko ate everything, declaring it all delicious. And for the record, she did not think anything was too greasy.

For weeks I've been hearing buzz about Aero 3, a new class down at the Aerospace fitness studio on West 13th Street. When I arrived recently to try it out, I bumped into my colorist, Marko, on his way from a personal training session to his chair at Sally Hershberger. "Is it your first Aero 3?" he asked. I nodded and he cackled sadistically before telling me my roots were showing and kissing me goodbye. "Good lu-uck!" he hollered as he swept out the door.

I headed into the studio unafraid—my regular training sessions at Complete Body on John Street and my weekly Nalini Method classes on the Upper West Side had me convinced I could withstand an hour of anything.

Turns out I could—but just barely. The warp-speed rotation of jump rope, boxing moves, maneuvers with a body bar and light handweights had everyone in the room moaning for mercy. And I had to stop from time to time to mop up the slippery pool of sweat around my feet. Later, in the locker room, toned veterans of the studio confirmed that Aero 3 is definitely the studio's its most challenging offering. The class's instructor, Aerospace co-founder Michael Olajide Jr, told me this was precisely his aim in developing Aero 3. "It burns crazy calories," says Olajides, a former boxer whose perfectly molded, impossibly lithe, spandex-encased physique at the front of the room (it's like having Spiderman for an aerobics instructor) is the best motivation for sticking it out.

Until recently, the quaint market town of Tetbury in England's Cotswolds district was best known for the antique shops lining its narrow, cobble-stone streets. Now there's another reason for visitors to flock to the Gloucestershire town. Last month, the area's starriest resident, Prince Charles—whose rambling country pad Highgrove is just outside Tetbury—set up shop there.

The store—Highgrove Shop—stocks a cornucopia of organic fruit and vegetables sourced from Highgrove's own Home Farm. There's also china decorated with images of hens, designed by Samantha Buckley, an alumna of Charles's Traditional Arts School in London, and soaps infused with hypericum plucked from his gardens.

So far, the store's royal connections have been drawing in the tourist crowds. "We've even had people from America signing the vistors' book," says Sally Jarrett, the shop's manager. But it's not only those eager to experience a slice of royal life who are turning up. Local residents are regulars too, snapping up chutneys, honey and leeks. The store's Champagne and red and white wines have also proved popular, perhaps because they're the very same as those served at official functions in the Orchard Room at Highgrove.

Even the usually cynical British press has nodded approvingly at the store, both for its relatively competitive pricing and the fact that all the store's profits go towards the Prince's various charities and projects. And for those who can't make the trip across the pond to visit the royal corner shop, not to worry. Later this year, the store will launch its own Web site, and the goods will ship worldwide.

For its first-ever use of semi-precious stones, Lalique has selected a posse of slithering creatures to play messenger. Its new "Serpent" pendant range for fall, a sub-group within its vast China Mood collection of gorge crystal bric-a-brac, was unveiled at the house's Madison Avenue flagship on Wednesday. Featuring a wide array of rocks (amber, onyx, quartz and carnelian, to name a few), the necklaces are chunky and drape-y - just the thing to toss over a few layers of cozy knits. But supplies won't last; in a nod to Asian numerology, only 188 pieces were created.

Vintage fabrics galore, a grand pair of old brownstone doors flanked by pressed-tin mirrors

"Apparently, we're in desperate need of a flea market." So said one Fort Greene denizen as he pushed his way through the mobs of hipsters at the neighborhood's latest hot spot: the front lot of Bishop Loughlin Memorial High School. Indeed, the grand opening of Brooklyn Flea was the place to be on Sunday, despite the un-spring-like chilly temps and blustery winds. Curated by the real estate Web site, Brownstoner.com, the merch was a far cry from the cassette tapes and cheap sunglasses that infiltrate many a flea market. (Even the food was curated: Belgian waffles, mini quiches, couscous.) While the requisite reworked vintage T-shirts and onesies were aplenty, there were also some terrific curios to be had, ranging from retro textiles to an old oak door salvaged from a brownstone. While I really wanted to walk away with a gorgeous pair of lacquered wood and black glass night tables, circa 1955 ($1,600), or a Halston tie-dye-esque gown from the Seventies ($350), I instead settled for a very on-trend pleated blouse (sans label) with a rhinestone-dotted neckline, $15; a couple of pretty vintage books (Conrad Richter's The Trees, $8, and Philip Truex's The City Gardener, $15); a leather clutch with a metal "M" monogram, $20, and a kitschy plastic spoon holder in the shape of a peacock, $5. Watch your back, Clignancourt.

Judging books by their covers

Brookyn Flea
Bishop Loughlin Memorial High School
Lafayette Ave. between Clermont and Vanderbilt Ave.
Fort Greene, Brooklyn, NY

With so many charity benefits, store openings and brand-sponsored evenings clogging up the New York social calendar, it's rare to celebrate an actual person for doing nothing more than existing. But such was the case this past Thursday night when man-about-town Euan Rellie celebrated his 40th birthday at Bar Milano, the soon-to-be opened restaurant from Lupa owner Jason Denton and his brother Joe. (For more on the Denton brothers, check out the upcoming May issue of W). The event, of course, did have a host: The Supper Club New York, a dinner and social club run by Brit transplant Tamsin Lonsdale.

After downing cocktails in the bar (where the windows were still covered with brown paper), the crowd, including Rellie's wife, designer Lucy Sykes, Thom Browne, Rufus Albemarle, Luigi Tadini and Kelly Bensimon, moved into the dining room. According to etiquette, couples had been seated separately, which led to a fair amount of surreptitious place-card swapping and table hopping. "Please, Euan asks that everyone being seated," chirped the ubiquitous 17-year-old actress Leven Rambin, jumping up and down on the banquette and giggling at her garbled grammar.

Soon after, the exuberant birthday boy stood up on the banquette himself. "Listen, I could have invited my closest friends," Rellie announced. "But instead, I chose to invite all you fashion journalists." The crowd, which did include a fair number of industry types, took the ribbing well, perhaps because they were feasting on the restaurant's Northern Italian fare, including seared scallops with celery root and caviar, trout with potatoes and chard, pork chops with escarole and borsetti alla pizzocheri (whole wheat raviolis shaped liked little sacks). For dessert, the waiters wheeled out a giant cake, out of which popped a girl who warbled "Happy Birthday" before Rellie covered her with kisses. "Lucy, don't look," he shouted.