We are so excited to introduce our newest columnist Adrien Field. A true New York social climber, Adrien gives us the dish and dirt on what’s hot on the New York Nightlife scene. From the best new DJ’s to the exclusive invite-only parties he loves to frequent, Adrien gives you the insider look into the world of champagne and flashing lights.

Enjoy his first column and tell us what you think in our comments section:

When you are single and fabulous in New York City, the majority of your going-out happens during the week: charity parties, art openings, society benefits, etc. all compete for the precious 7-9PM timeslot Monday through Thursday so that by the time Friday hits, you’re ready to trade in your Berluti shoes for a tub of Ben and Jerry’s.

Last weekend began on a rather odd note as I had an event to attend on a Saturday evening.  Now normally my Saturday nights are reserved for “me time”–instead of mingling with the masses that make their way over the bridges and through the tunnels in their Mazda Miatas to party at Marquee, I can normally be found in my bathrobe flipping through fashion magazines or watching old episodes of Sex and the City (I actually haven’t yet figured out whether this is the cause or effect of my perpetual single-status).

Anyway, back to the party. I ventured out west with my trusted companion, recording artist Alexandra Alexis, to the Ward-Nasse gallery for a private reception celebrating the launch of Amanda Dolan’s exhibition.  You could say that everything followed a similar theme: from Amanda’s Cyndi Lauper-inspired look (crimped hair and all) to the sweet pink cupcakes and even more saccharine art featuring an overdose of cute, it was like inhabiting the mind of a lovesick single girl where shoes and the artist’s dog were reoccurring images.  Heart attack indeed.

On Monday night, it was a slightly different vibe as we headed to the northern-limits of our Manhattan—14^th street—for yet another art event.  This one was a loft party and silent auction featuring works inspired by the Notorious BIG.  Though supposed guest Russel Simmons was nowhere to be found, we did spot a woman who looked exactly like Victoria Gotti, complete with Malibu Barbie bleached blond hair and an entirely white ensemble, topped off with a sun hat and long French manicured nails.

The next night, since I had started my week early (and I wasn’t invited to anything exciting) I ditched the social scene and instead met up with my friend Sara from Belvedere for a little partying à la français.  Her company sponsors the members-only French Tuesdays, a gathering for euro-business types, so nous sommes allés to 1Oak at the very sensible hour of 8PM for some champagne binging.  We drank like royalty as we hovered around the Vice President of Moët-Hennesy’s table where Dom Perignon and rosé Moët flowed as abundantly as Bernie Madoff’s tears during his first night in prison and probably cost a sum only his investors could have once afforded.

From champagne to vodka, Alexandra and I were reunited the next day for a night of fun and VIP treatment at the Absolut Mango party.  Absolut took over the Lotus Event Space on 26^th street in Chelsea and transformed it into a tropical paradise.  As we walked in, we were greeted by the sight of a woman peeling mangos in front of artificial palm flora.  The accompanying fauna was to be found deeper inside in the form of the event’s guests—no notable attendees to report, just free vodka enthusiasts dressed mostly in post-work attire (a no-no if you want to be photographed).  Alexandra and I took a seat in one of the “reserved” cabanas, observing the crowd from our rarified perch.  After lounging languorously and sipping cocktails for some time, we decided we’d had enough of the tropics and head back into the New York tundra, though not before leaving with a mango on a stick.

Thursday was undoubtedly the highlight of the week: the Vanity Fair/USA Network party for the new book/exhibition Character Project.  “Characters” were definitely the theme of the night: as yours truly walked the gigantic step and repeat (Adrien, look here!  This way!), one photographer bewilderingly shouted, “Bring back the Devil!” which I thought must be a reference to the Prada belt which cinched the waist of my vest.  It wasn’t until I had regained my nerves and was halfway into my first glass of champagne (one of many that evening) that I actually noticed the devil casually strolling around the exhibition with a detached look on his horned-face (the underworld must be so much more entertaining).  The man was dressed in a suit, painted entirely red and wore platform shoes.  I still have not yet figured out the meaning of this.  Among the more celestial guests were Christian Siriano, Lucy Liu, Mena Suvari, Rose McGowan and others who stopped by for champagne with a side of culture.

Hot DJ of the moment Sky Nellor spun the tracks while the crowd mingled and reveled in their general fabulousness.  I caught up with Gossip Girls Dreama Walker and Amanda Setton, whom I’d both met during this past Fashion Week.  Dreama and I traded secrets about our provenance (we’re both too fabulous to be associated with the states in which we grew up) and she dished that you shouldn’t expect to see her on the season finale—which they’re still taping—as she’s missing the filming for her sister’s wedding.  I made a few more trips around the room, saying my mandatory hellos and after drinking so much champagne that I almost went up to speak to the devil, I knew it was time to head home.

By the end of the week, I was back with my two most reliable boyfriends: Ben and Jerry.

Adrien Field