First of all, the layoffs. There is no official word yet, but we're hearing from inside that up to 20 people have gone, including executive Matthew Rosenberg; Joyann King, fashion editor at ElleGirl.com; Holly Seigal, senior editor of Ellegirl.com; and Dei Lewison, producer of the Elle websites. (There's no word on the former store salesman boyfriend whom insiders said Elle's self-promoting creative director, Joe Zee, installed at the fashion magazine's website.) The casualties were called to a meeting at 10.30 and then left to stew for quarter of an hour before digital boss Todd Anderman breezed in to fire them.

Another casualty is Glenn Kenny, whom Kliger talked up so much when he shut down the US edition of Premiere, the entertainment magazine. When the title was shuttered, Kliger said Kenny—the magazine's "most recognizable name"—would remain as an online movie critic and blogger. Kliger told the Wall Street Journal: "We saw trend lines for both ELLEgirl.com and Premiere.com moving in very positive, healthy directions, and we didn't necessarily feel that the print versions, which were not trending in a reasonable timeline toward profitability, enhanced what the digital versions were providing." So, why the cutbacks at a division which Kliger said would provide Hachette with over 20% of its revenues and most of its advertising growth?

First of all, Hachette has always been an abortion of a magazine company. It was a rag-tag collection of also-ran titles put together by David Pecker, now busy losing money at American Media. The company is owned by a dysfunctional French conglomerate, which never gave Kliger the resources or authority he needed to make the group a significant player. Much of Kliger's talk—about grand web plans—was just designed to bamboozle credulous journalists who might otherwise see a marginal magazine group in decline. Earlier in his tenure, Kliger was said to be much loved by his French bosses. More recently, we heard the relationship had broken down. "I'd heard the French were rats," he's known to complain. "But now I know."

Second, it's experiencing the same pressure to cut costs that is affecting other print publishing groups—except more so. Lagardere, the French company which owns Hachette, recently disclosed its US revenues were flat—and that was not even counting the revenues sacrificed when Premiere folded. The firm is moving out of the 40th floor of its Manhattan headquarters to save on rent; business trips have been curtailed; and editors are forced to print stories from inventory because editorial budgets do not allow new commissions.

Third, the grand multimedia experiment has been an utter failure. The early experiments with interactive TV were dismal, predictably. But nor have Kliger's more recent investments in branded web titles such as Premiere.com fulfilled the promise he saw for them. Hachette recently allowed Quantcast, a web measurement firm, to monitor traffic. Those numbers are not protected by a password. All the Hachette website put together garner no more than 200-250,ooo unique visitors per day; one of the biggest, Elle's website, only attracts of the order of 60,000. Embarrassing.

Hachette hasn't said whether it will be replacing any of the staff let go today. "There is no stability here, no one knows what's going on or what is happening," says a tipster. Elle, Car and Driver and various other titles certainly have some sort of following, even if exaggerated by pay-for-praise public relations interns. Their economic value may be better realized in some other media group, if anyone is still buying. As for Kliger himself, the tittle-tattle is that his contract is coming up for renewal—and it won't be.

[Photo shows Kliger with his former mistress, speaking coach Amy Griggs, and daughter.]

• Bill Murray: She was in the movie Lost In Translation with him. "I don't even remember what I did off screen, I was so jetlagged," she says. Profound.
• Woody Allen: She just finished shooting her third movie with him. "I'm always kind of weirded out when I'm interviewed by people who say, 'Gosh! Woody must be in love with you.' It's like, 'fucking expand your mind,'" she says. Revelatory.
• Tom Waits: She is doing a cover album of his music. "I was this little blonde girl with a baritone singing voice, which at nine was freakish, I'm sure," she says. Epic.
• Barack Obama: She supports his campaign. "He's confronting health-care issues that affect young people. You know, most of my friends don't have insurance," She says. Heartwarming.
• Bob Dylan: She was in a video for his song. "I've been fortunate enough to never be the biggest media sensation," she says. Intense.

[BONUS: Her real father: She is his child. "My dad's Danish. That would be the first adjective I'd use to describe my father," she says. Specific.]

[Paste]

The Daily News' Richard Huff points out that ratings for the previous episode, which aired before the photo controversy broke, were also down:

Compared to the first original show of the year, which aired in January, viewership for Sunday's show was down 33%.

That suggests the hubbub over series star Miley Cyrus' questionable photos in Vanity Fair neither helped nor hurt with viewership. Rather, "Hannah" was on a decline before the photo dustup.

Disney CEO Bob Iger has the obligatory quote about how the Miley "franchise" is "incredibly robust." But Huff suggest that she could already be on an inevitable downward slide, at least among young fans. Which would certainly cause her advisers to tell her to grow up, quick.

Experience shows that kid franchises such as "Hannah" that hit the rare white-hot phase are good for roughly 18 months, then start to fade.

"Hannah Montana" had been the top-rated show with young viewers the past two seasons, but because of the slow rollout this year, the heat has moved to the "Wizards of Waverly Place," starring Selena Gomez (who has appeared on "Hannah"), which now holds the slot as Disney's top show.

The New York Times reported the 58-year-old Olson had been "distracted and unavailable" since falling ill in November. But the newspaper didn't explain quite why he couldn't be reached. Candice Olson—known as Candice Carpenter when she ran the iVillage website for women—commandeered all his communication devices, according to a friend. After she left the internet business, Candice Olson decided that she wanted to do something else with the rest of her life. ''I personally came to the conclusion that being a C.E.O. is hell,'' she said in an interview. By some combination of poor results at Random House, pneumonia and a domineering wife, Olson has had the same decision made for him.

The Olsons have five children, two adopted from Eastern Europe; and Candice was still attempting another natural pregnancy at the age of 50. This is the couple's first-encounter story. When Candice met the Random House chief executive in 2001 at a party—only three months before marrying—he heard her explain what she was doing after retiring from business. Mrs. Olson recounted to the New York Times: "I said I was trying to be the best mommy on Park Avenue. That's what captured Peter's attention.'' So the clichéd explanation for so many corporate exits—the desire to spend more time with one's family—may actually hold true in this instance.

But that's quite enough generosity for the departing executive, who acknowledged himself that he was a "pariah" in the literary reaches of the publishing industry. His critics remembered smirking relish with which he fired Ann Godoff and other editors who viewed publishing as an art rather than a business. Wandering around a book fair at the time, he told an interviewer: ''I recognize hundreds of people here. Many of them worked for me. Many of them I fired personally.'' He did not seem upset by this; in fact, he seemed amused, observed the Times' Lynn Hirschberg ''I fired him,'' Olson said as two men passed by. ''There are so many people here that I've fired that we could have a reunion.''

The Eric-is-gay plot line was just as silly and expected and satisfying as one could hope. And the Asher tie-in was surprising and funny and full of teeth. ("Get this faggot out of my house!") The Lily and Serena comfort the 'mo stuff was a bit maudlin, but understandably necessary. It's sort of a bummer that the Eric/Asher relationship is kinda over before it started, but I'm sure there will be other twinky idiots on the horizon for our diminutive little friend.

Leighton Meester was in fine form (she's the best actress of the kids, I think) as Blair maneuvered all the gay rumors via Gossip Girl (great to see her heavily featured again!) and crushed little squawking Jenny Humphrey. The nice little button of sadness put at the end of their battle was warm and smart, and leads me to think they may not actually be "done' as Jenny so wearily declared.

This is all, of course, just preamble to the wham bang holy holy shit final scene, in which a devastated, weepy Serena, having had yet another scary "I'm gonna tellll" run in with Georgina, broke down at Blair's house. What was the secret, Blair and everyone else wanted to know. It involved video, so I assumed it was porn. But...um... no. "I killed someone," Serena moaned. And then that music! That thumping, scary scary music. I must admit I got up and did a little "WTF???" dance and then made my roommate rewind and replay the last scene. It was shocking and brilliant and just what this show needed to really get the soapy fantastic stuff going. I can't wait to see where they take this. Hopefully it won't fizzle and die too soon... LIKE THE MAN SERENA KILLED. Shocking clip is below.

Crazy! And, I should mention. This Friday, at 8pm at the People's Improv Theatre, Sara Benincasa, comedienne (and Gawker commenter!) is hosting a panel discussion on this here show. I will be one of the panel members, joining some fantastic funny folk, so if you're around you should definitely come. It's going to be silly (and boozy) and there is free GG-themed food. Info is here.

"Jezebel’s readers—they often call themselves 'Jezzies' or 'Jezebelles'—are permitted to post to the site after a first prospective comment is approved by a Gawker Media staffer, and must adhere to some basic rules: be witty and relevant, no whining and don’t attack people." But you know how those crazy commenters are!

Still, such attacks—on one another, and on the editors—happen regularly. When Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton won the New Hampshire primary after getting teary-eyed at a campaign event, Ms. Tkacik fired off a furious rant, accusing women of voting with their emotions. One commenter, a 28-year-old Brooklyn medical biller who uses the screen name SinisterRouge, wrote back: "Seriously, Moe, I know you love Obama. But to say women just up and voted for her because she cries is retarded."

As part of a popular feature called Snap Judgment, readers offered biting comments on everything from Ms. Jolie’s eye-popping neckline to her possible state of mind.

Then a commenter with the screen name Calraigh wrote that, despite being pregnant, Ms. Jolie looked like “an Ethiopian famine victim.” Within minutes, a half-dozen angry readers had made their own snap judgments of Calraigh:

“You’re gross.”

“Are you serious?”

“That comment is inappropriate. I don’t know what website you think you are on, but that is not how we roll.” [NYT]

Critical Shopper Cintra Wilson reveals a scene of hysterical tourists and WASPS demanding to buy them. But there's nothing left in their size! Or anybody's size!

"There is simply nothing," [sales clerk] Bubble lamented with an oversize shrug. "Your size is the most popular one. I wish I could sell you some shoes. All we have is 5, 6 and 40... We don't know anything! We have no computer. We don't know if they have anything on Horatio," Bubble said, referring to the downtown Louboutin boutique, "or at Bergdorf, or in Los Angeles."

"We want since two days!" the man bellowed, the brass buttons on his nautical blazer melting in fright.

His wife let out a visceral moan and gnashed her perfect teeth; her eyes rolled upward in despair as she clutched in rueful hands the wrong size. For a moment she resembled the anguished Mary of Michelangelo's Pietà — only evil.

CARRIE
2 ounces Skyy vodka
1 ounce X-Rated Fusion Liqueur
2 ounces cranberry juice
3/4 ounce sparkling apple cider
Shake Skyy, X-Rated and cranberry with ice and strain into chilled martini glass. Top with cider and garnish with a thin apple slice.

"Enjoy this cocktail over lunch or after work with your girlfriends to relax and kick off your Manolo Blahnik heels."

MIRANDA
2 ounces Skyy vodka
3/4 ounce Campari
2 ounces pomegranate juice
1 ounce Triple Sec
Squeeze of lemon
Shake with ice and strain into a chilled martini glass. Garnish with a lemon wheel.

Notes: "As Miranda would say, 'Soul mates only exist in the Hallmark aisle of Duane Reade Drugs.' This hint of bitterness can be found in Miranda's cocktail but is softened by the sweet touches that make Miranda so loveable."

CHARLOTTE
2 ounces Skyy vodka
2 ounces pink lemonade
1 ounces Triple Sec
1/2 ounce Midori Melon liqueur
Shake with ice and strain into chilled martini glass. Garnish with an edible flower.

Notes: "Charlotte's signature cocktail starts off a bit conservative, but then leaves them something for the imagination."

SAMANTHA
2 1/2 ounces Skyy vodka
1 1/2 ounces Cabo Wabo Anejo tequila
1 ounce simple syrup
1 ounce freshly squeezed lime juice
Shake with ice and strain into chilled martini glass. Rim glass with mixture of salt and small amount of white pepper. No garnish.

Notes: "Samantha definitely speaks her mind and reminds us that we all have a wild side waiting to be revealed."

In this case, "wild side" means reckless sexual behavior.

Drink up and party like a TV star might if she existed!

Excerpts:

Scene-by-scene commentary: [Media Assassin]

Full video:

"The classy text messager in the column in Matthew Caws from Nada Surf and he's still with the girl he broke up with the first for." HEY OH! You'll remember Nada Surf for their 1996 joke hit about high school, "Popular." (The album totes didn't sell and Nada Surf was dropped from their label; they went indie and made more records. Amazingly, they're still a band.)

Excerpts of dating classiness from the man whose hit song included the lyrics, "Don't put off breaking up when you know you want to... prolonging the situation only makes it worse":

A CUTE guy from a rock band sent me an e-mail message out of the blue. We had a friend in common, and he saw me sing "Christmas Wrapping" by the Waitresses one night in Brooklyn, at karaoke.

He continued, in all lowercase, to introduce himself. I scrolled over his rambling exposition, waiting for the payoff. Was he going to ask me out? He didn't. "i'm at home absolutely spazzing out because we're leaving in a few days to make a record and i have to/really should finish a long list of songs. so, waving hello and/or re-hello! all the bestest."

My enthusiasm waned. A hot guy in an indie band waved me hello and/or re-hello mid-spazz-out?

He took me for a walk around his neighborhood. I'm always suspicious when a guy takes his date on a walk, because it reeks of poverty and an inability to plan. It seemed as if he was taking me on a stroll of his estate, and from the way people on the street greeted him with questions about his tour and album, it was as if he was the king of his neighborhood.

[Photo: Michael Schmelling for NY Mag]

[pics via Vanity Fair]

"Justice Arthur Cooperman delivered the verdict in a Queens courtroom packed with spectators, including victim Sean Bell's fiancee and parents, as at least 200 people gathered outside the building.

"As word of the verdict spread, many outside the courthouse began crying and yelled 'No!' Some briefly jostled with police officers.The officers, complaining that pretrial publicity had unfairly painted them as cold-blooded killers, opted to have the judge decide the case rather than a jury.

"Officers Michael Oliver, 36, and Gescard Isnora, 29, stood trial for manslaughter while Officer Marc Cooper, 40, was charged only with reckless endangerment. Two other shooters weren't charged. Oliver squeezed off 31 shots; Isnora fired 11 rounds; and Cooper shot four times." [AP via MSNBC]

After a hard day covering Fashion Week, in September 2006, Gutfeld was at Port 41 with a group of other magazine editors and writers. It was late, Gutfeld had been drinking, and he's not known for his discretion even when sober. According to one of the many present that evening, he began regaling the crowd with an account of a small dinner party hosted by Steve Perrine, former creative director of Men's Health, now editor-in-chief of Best Life, a magazine for middle-aged men who lead lives of silent desperation.

Now Perrine himself does not. In the past, at least, he's talked quite openly of his swinger's lifestyle and even alludes to it in interviews. Here's a podcast interview with Personal Life Media. "I’m leaving the party, I get my balls, I pick up some other guy’s balls. I get home, they don’t fit. I’ve got to call him up, 'I think I have your balls!' So that’s always difficult." Hmm, well, he's alluding to something there, anyway.

So, according to Gutfeld, he and a date went round to Perrine's for dinner a few years ago. Steve Perrine, who later became an expert on acrimonious divorces and child-custody disputes, was still with his first wife. The party was just the four of them. Gutfeld claimed he had no particular idea of the evening's agenda, but the dinner ended with his date in bed with Perrine, while the Red Eye opinionator was left with his host's wife. She was so upset, at the situation or Gutfeld's reluctance to exercise his partner-swapping rights, that the macho former magazine editor spent the evening sitting on a log, consoling the sobbing woman.

Now this tale, several years old, has probably been distorted both in Gutfeld's telling, and the subsequent retelling as it's made its way around the magazine world. It's no wonder the story is so confusing.

Assuming it's partly true, why on earth would Gutfeld allow his date to go off with the predatory Perrine when he didn't want reciprocation? And, even if wildly exaggerated, why would Gutfeld, a man who has traded on a reputation as one of the few red-blooded heterosexuals in media, tell a story which makes him look an impotent cuckold? There's only one explanation: late at night, at a bar or on his TV show, Gutfeld will say literally anything to get attention.

Most Paris Review interns are still Ivy League grads (or grad students) looking to break into whatever semblance of a literary career they may still be afforded in this debased age. Their resumes are carefully hand-crafted from the finest of intellectual extracarricular endeavors. Perrin Drumm, though, had just finished the College of Santa Fe's New York Arts program, and applied through the Paris Review website because she wasn't interested in a job at "a low-grade women's fashion and health magazine." She explains, in an interview with CSF's alum mag: (Scroll down—it's a pdf link toward the bottom.)

I applied with what the Review staff calls "The weirdest cover letter in Paris Review history." I looked at the other cover letters and they were like, "This job will really prepare me for the tasks at hand..." and mine said, "I can MacGuyver a terrarium out of a Frisbee and some gum" or whatever.

Quirky!

Oh, but here's the thing! Perrin's experience didn't include much contemporary literature, but it did include modeling for pervy hipster clothing chain American Apparel! A fact that reportedly "fascinated" a senior editor who interviewed her. The fascination goes unmentioned in the interview, but Drumm does point out that she was hand-selected to model The Paris Review's brand-new t-shirt line! The products are, of course, printed on American Apparel t-shirts.

All Drumm says is, "I modeled tee shirts and bags for their website. That got the other girl interns really mad."

So—what does a Paris Review intern do? Besides drink scotch and play pool and harass writers at parties? They go through the slush pile, mostly, they fact-check (unaltered quote: "Facts are really hard to find out.") and also empty Philip Gourevitch's trash.

A couple more selections from the interview, which will presumably upset you, unless you happen to be the guy whose Nerve.com personal ad netted you the famed Harper's internship:

A few sentence fragments from her note:

“I have to say that it wasn’t a complete surprise…“

“But I was in a state of denial…“

“…it explains a lot about many things…“

“I listened to what you had to say in the interview and I expect you feel you have thought all of this through.“

A friend told Debauchette she was "identifiable by the way I used the word ‘yeah’ and the way I touched my hair." Another didn't think she was recognizable at all.

The blogger has not responded to her mom's email.

I’m stunned, but I’m not ashamed of what I do or what I’ve done. I feel exposed but I don’t feel apologetic. I should feel mortified, but I don’t. Instead, I feel like a very private part of my life has been exposed, like they’ve just caught me in the middle of some sex act. So I suppose I feel awkward.

Debauchette said she appeared on ABC to counter "the old Victorian trope of the broken, dysfunctional, fallen prostitute, incapable of forming her own opinions or making her own decisions." She told Sawyer she has about seven regular clients, mostly married, and that she was once offered $2.9 million to be with a client "exclusively" for a year.

In the video below, excerpted from a longer video posted to Boinkology by Gawker video maven Richard Blakeley, Dabauchette talks about the lover who got her into prostitution, and Sawyer presses her on whether she is truly happy with her work.

Already under fire for its handling of the last Democratic presidential debate, in Pennsylvania, ABC News may very well catch some flack over this incident. But Debauchette does not sound, in her post, like an angry or burned source, and she even speculates her identity may have been compromised not by ABC's cameras or microphones but by her own speech patterns. She casts her appearance as a victory for a "pro-slut" view of sex, and, although she wrote "Hi mom" earlier in the post, ends with this anecdote about sex with a guy she calls "Gabriel:"

He fucked me over his sofa, the flat of his hand pressing down into my back. I felt him take my hair in his hand before he pulled out to come across my lower back, which splattered in a thick, swerving pattern. After, he took a snapshot of his come against my winter-pale skin. Once he toweled my back down and we both dressed, I took a look. It was a beautiful shot.

[Boinkology, Debauchette]

Devil Wears Prada by Lauren Weisberger, formerly Anna Wintour's assistant at Vogue.

Their Pitch: A coming of age tale of an aspiring journalist who becomes overwhelmed by the glamorous world of women's magazine only to regain her moral footing.
The Real Pitch: A roman a clef about Weisberger's time at Vogue under Anna Wintour. Turns out Anna's a bit of a bitch.
Critical Take: "This reviewer devoured last year's frothy sensation, The Nanny Diaries, and despite the overwrought hype, this season's The Devil Wears Prada by Lauren Weisberger is no Nanny Diaries." [USA Today]

4% Famous by Deborah Schoeneman, formerly of New York.

Their Pitch: A young, endearingly awkward woman learns the pitfalls of the New York gossip scene while searching for her place in the city.
The Real Pitch: Four-percent is the magic number for enjoying the perks of fame without losing one's moral bearings.
Critical Take: "Schoeneman's occasional attempts at social critique—for instance, the observation that very thin girls may be on Ritalin—come off more like life-style tips, and the novel's many veiled references to actual people make it read something like an extended blind item." [New Yorker]

Tabloid Love: Looking for Mr. Right in All the Wrong Places by Bridget Harrison, formerly of the Post

Their Pitch: British lady-reporter learns that love doesn't come easy in the Big Apple.
The Real Pitch: Bridget Harrison's veiled memoir of her time at the Post. Worth reading for the references to her New York love, Jesse Angelo, now the Post's managing editor.
Critical Take: "Harrison's depictions of her fish-out-of-water hijinks lift this sharp yet tenderhearted memoir above the predictable chick-lit crop." [Elle.com]

Sex and The City, Candace Bushnell, formerly of the New York Observer

Their Pitch: An original book about lives of glamorous and successful single women in New York trying to balance their career and personal lives.
The Real Pitch: This was the original. It has so much to account for.
Critical Take: "In small doses these essays are brain candy that will appeal equally to urban romantics and anti-romantics." [Publisher's Weekly]

Gawker Media polls require Javascript; if you're viewing this in an RSS reader, click through to view in your Javascript-enabled web browser.

Mr. Khan continued to follow their careers in the pages of Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar, and his reading selections — along with the awareness of his formerly pampered lifestyle — made him a target of other prisoners and also guards.

“I was given the worst things to do, like scrubbing the toilets,” he said, “even though I was capable of helping G.E.D. students.”

Khan was deported to Trinidad at the end of his stint, with $10 to his name. An old friend eventually ran into him and ended up giving him $20,000 to get to Dubai. Now he "has been accepted into the society of wealthy expatriates and Saudi royalty" and is even designing his own jewelry line.

Dubai, Khan told the Times, is "a new Australia." Paging Margaret Seltzer...

[Times]

Nina Garcia was unceremoniously... fired? Or quit? All we know is that she just left, last Friday afternoon. She's reportedly seeking a ceremonial Editor-at-Large position there in order to continue having some authority as a judge on popular, increasingly insane reality program Project Runway. And we know this thanks to Women's Wear Daily reporter Stephanie Smith, who reported that Nina left the magazine last week, adding that she was conspicuously absent from an Elle-hosted party a week ago. Smith would know, because, according to our tipster, Smith was at that party, sitting conspicuously close to Joe Zee.

A few more unsupported claims and insinuations:

Mr. Zee should think about people in glass houses as he's brought a lot of baggage to the magazine. Maybe WWD (obviously Stephanie is not in position) might want to ask why Mr. Zee appointed his boyfriend/lover as Editor of ELLE.COM when he had no relevant experience (however, I guess if you are a salesman on the floor of the Paul and Joe store) and a number of former bf's are teaming the halls of the magazine with lesser relevant experience. The fact that he and the former features editor turned EIC are so desperate to be on TV - tried so hard to get on Ugly Betty for over a year. So, WWD next time you pick up the phone from Joe after he's had his morning meeting with his team of bf's, maybe disclose your interest when you pen your next column. Could Stephanie Smith be looking for a job at ELLE? She certainly knows who to call.

Is Stephanie Smith looking for a job at Elle? Who knows! Sitting next to Joe Zee at a party doesn't actually mean anything, though it's probably a better method of netting a new job than appearing on a reality show. But if Zee's the one feeding the Garcia news to WWD, well, that's embarrassing for everyone.

REALITY TELEVISION IS KILLING FASHION MAGAZINES. There. We said it.

At the Evening News, Couric is swimming against the tide of history. Old-aged viewers don't like change, and young viewers cannot be lured in to a national news broadcast because they're too busy reading their news online and watching the Daily Show. In fact, the only significant credit Couric has gotten for connecting with young people is when she was in the gossip columns for dating a man 16 years her junior.

Couric is also struggling with a network news budget that was chopped approximately in half over the course of nine years, to about $35 million. Her salary, mind you, is $15 million, and Couric has a taste for expensive enterprise work. "People are pissed about Katie because she’s soaking up the money and she’s not making any money," one producer told New York magazine last year.

Couric's big-budget ambitions were developed, of course, at Today, which makes around $250 million per year. Her run, which began in 1991 and became the longest in Today show history, was a key part of one of the biggest success stories in television news.

As Ken Auletta wrote in a 2006 New Yorker story, Couric's chipper personality, mocked in her current role, felt fresh and effortless at Today:

[Jeff] Zucker, who was then twenty-six and beginning his own rise at NBC, told people, "Katie’s the most natural person I’ve ever seen in this role." He would hold the camera on her wide, slightly crooked smile, and Couric, for her part, played the role of a regular girl, with a safe pinch of irreverence. She helped loosen up Today, including the sometimes aloof [co-host Bryant] Gumbel. Once, he turned to her and asked whether her daughter slept through the show.

"Only during your interviews!" she replied with a grin.

This video, which shows one of Couric's first appearances on Today and then one of her last, gives a flavor of the times:

Following the death of her husband from colon cancer in 1998, Couric did commendable work raising awareness about the disease. Her live colonoscopy and other segments produced a 20 percent increase in colon cancer screenings dubbed "the Katie Couric Effect."

But the anchor, a newly single mom, then began acting moody and unbalanced, according to Auletta's piece. The Times magazine reported she went through five assistants in five years. This is also when the anchor started wearing short skirts, which became something of a trademark, and a rallying point for detractors, who said she always seemed to find a way to show them off. She was said to be "tone-deaf" to the concerns of coworkers, for example with her late studio arrivals, a charge that would haunt her at CBS, primarily over her spending but also in her jostling with colleagues for interviews.

Finally bored after 15 years at Today, Couric was brought to CBS by Les Moonves, who figured, in typical Holywood executive fashion, that a big personality could turn around his third-place Evening News. She may have had the novelty of being America's first female news anchor, but Couric could not make her signature interviews short enough for nighttime audiences. With producer Rome Hartman she burned through several bad ideas, including guest-commentator segment "freeSpeech" and the too-casual newscast opening, "Hi, everyone."

After an initial ratings initial spike, viewership resumed its decline (as shown in the Wall Street Journal's Nielsen chart at left). Veteran producer Rick Kaplan was brought in to replace Hartman but, by restoring a classic format, has merely leveled out ratings. Worse, his energies are now split with the CBS Early Show. (Around the time Kaplan took over, a different producer was fired over a plagiarized Couric Web post, which proved a minor distraction from the ratings mess.)

Couric can still be fun to watch in a more relaxed context, as shown in an unguarded moment during the New Hampshire primary in January. A young 51, she still has the spunk of the fresh college graduate who broke into journalism by showing up unannounced at network newsrooms. It makes no sense that Couric is wasting her time fighting the inevitable at the Evening News when she can deploy her remaining charm elsewhere, like from behind Larry King's old desk at CNN. Maybe she's finally realized that.

1. The New (New) Bohemian

Core Members: Tara Subkoff, Arden Wohl, Leigh Lezark, Stella Schnabel, Waris Ahluwalia, Chiara Clemente, Leelee Sobieski
Style.com says: With their creative-class roots and Opening Ceremony duds, these free-spirit types are giving the anemic benefit circuit a badly needed shot in the arm. Find them anywhere "It" is at—from fancy galas to the smoky back room at the Beatrice. Suggested conversation starters? Indie filmmaking, whatever patron saint Chloë Sevigny is up to now, headbands.
Absurd quote: "We're always looking for answers. Some people are looking for it in a socialite maybe. But you know, it just depresses me: Some girl named Peaches who lives in the Bronx…looks at this world and says, 'Oh wow.' And I would never want to give off something that is an illusion, because you hurt people that way. And they're already struggling so much—the people." —Arden Wohl
We say: If these people are bohemians, then we're a goddamn mango. There's nothing free-spirited about putting on a $4,000 dress you didn't pay for and then hitting a $10,000-a-plate dinner (which you also didn't pay for), even if you follow it up with a night of indoor smoking at "The Bee." Anybody who uses "headbands" as a conversation starter should be punched in the face immediately, and have their headband stolen so they no longer have anything to talk about.

2. The European Union

Core Members: Vladimir Roitfeld, Julia Restoin-Roitfeld, Tatiana Santo Domingo, Margherita Missoni, Stavros Niarchos, Andrea Casiraghi
Style.com says: What do young moneyed Euros do in New York? Stick together. More cliquish than seventh-grade girls, this group's regular haunts include Cipriani, Da Silvano, and anywhere else that can charge $35 for a plate of pasta and keep a straight face. They also congregate at the Washington Square Park town house of longtime couple Tatiana Santo Domingo (the Colombian beer heiress) and Andrea Casiraghi (Princess Caroline of Monaco and Hanover's son). Margherita Missoni, who dates Casiraghi's stepbrother, Ernst of Hanover, is arguably the most outgoing of the bunch (and the most liable to mingle with the other social groups). But Stavros Niarchos, who's reportedly romanced Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan, has his own unique way of sampling American culture.
Absurd quote: "I've been in New York for four years now, and I feel that I have done it. It's a place where you can be busy all the time without ever doing anything." — Margherita Missoni.
We say: Busy all the time without doing anything? They could have a career in blogging — if they had careers. Apparently, one of the E.U.'s favorite "hotspots" is the British Airways' entertainment space at JFK, which pipes in the scent of freshly cut grass (you can't have them breathing QUEENS AIR, after all). Also, Stavros Niarchos? Bring your Valtrex prescription!

3. The Swans 2.0

Core Members: Amanda Hearst, Tinsley Mortimer, Fabiola Beracasa, Lauren Santo Domingo, Zani Gugelmann, Claire Bernard
Style.com says: This group is a closed set. Olivia Palermo, for example, has yet to recover from last spring's misstep—you know, when the now-defunct Web site Socialiterank.com published a letter that Palermo supposedly penned, apologizing for her status-seeking ways. It's still unclear if the missive was a hoax or an honest plea, but, no matter, it fell on deaf ears. Palermo's persistence has kept her at some of the parties, but not all the right ones. If you're not in the club yet, you probably won't be. Meanwhile, these socials—now inching into their thirties—can do no wrong. Tinsley Mortimer made a questionable move, posing for the cover of the New York Post's weekend glossy, Page Six Magazine, and no one blinked a false eyelash.
Absurd quote: "Paris Hilton brought to light the existence of the socialite to Middle America and the world. Before, it was either models or actresses—but socialites were, most times, born into this lifestyle. That's what fascinates people. It's a continuous lifestyle that people are fascinated by. But it's not all the media's fault. You know, it's us posing for the cameras and going out and exploiting the spotlight for our careers." —Fabiola Beracasa
We say: Olivia dodged a bullet, wethinks. Actually plenty of people blinked (and cringed and shuddered) at Tinsley's neurotic, self-consumed weight loss confessional. Also, no one really became "fascinated" with Paris until she started getting naked. Pretty much no one in Middle America has ever heard of Zani Gugelmann. In fact, they probably think that's the name of the ring master at Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey's Circus.

4. The Art Stars

Core Members: Dan Colen, Dash Snow, Ryan McGinley, Aaron Young, Nate Lowman, Mirabelle Marden, Melissa Bent, Amy Greenspon
Style.com says: Despite their "whatever, dude" mien, Colen, Snow, and their scruffy tribe of Lost Boys know that a gift for self-promotion is just as important as having a way with a paintbrush. Their biggest sell—apart from their actual art, of course—is their cooler-than-thou posse, of which everyone below 14th Street seems to want to be a part. "You realize that, like, your social context has a lot to do with, like, your success," Colen recently articulated.
Absurd quote: "It's funny to me that Dash [Snow] has become like a rock star, but he's so paranoid. That comes from graffiti culture—like, you want everybody to know who you are and you're going to write your name all over the city, but you can't let anyone know who you really are. It's, like, this idea of being notorious." —Ryan McGinley
We say: Full disclosure: We know next to nothing about art, so we can't even tell you if these dudes actually sell their shit. But everything you need to know can be found in the phrase "cooler-than-thou posse." And a person's popularity (excuse us, their "social context") shouldn't be determined by their success. It should be determined by the quality of their drugs.

5. The Catwalk Queens

Core Members: Lisa Cant, Gemma Ward, Lily Donaldson, Caroline Winberg
Style.com says: The only thing more intimidating than standing next to a model at a party is standing next to four models at a party. Especially when they're all giggling and taking pictures of each other on their camera phones and just generally having a waaay better time then you are. Curious as to how this sorority of gorgeousness operates, we turned to our trusted source on the inside, who gamely broke down the group dynamic: "Lily is the funny one, although Lisa has a good sense of humor, too. Gemma started off timid, because she's a long way from Australia, but is now comfy being a ringleader. And Caroline is just always up for a good time." So there you have it. Oh, and there's this: Aside from Donaldson, who dates Vladimir Roitfeld, everyone's single. Gentlemen, start your engines. (OK, forget it, you have no chance.)
Refreshingly non-absurd quote: "I had come straight from my auntie and uncle's farm, and I was wearing this big gray barn jacket with mud all over it. When the scout came up to me, I said, 'No, thank you.' But my friends were like, 'Hell, yes!' They forged my mum's signature and pushed me in front of the cameras." —Gemma Ward on breaking into modeling
We say: Anyone who's ever stood next to four models at a party and had to duck to avoid their protruding, malnourished sternums knows that it's usually more frightening than intimidating. What looks great in a picture can be kind of horrifying in person.

6. The New Kids on the Blog

Core Members: Leven Rambin, Hud Morgan, Mary Rambin, Julia Allison, Emily Brill, Devorah Rose, Annabel Vartanian, Kristian Laliberte
Style.com says: This year's crop of newbies owes a lot to the gossip bloggers who, under pressure to churn out a certain number of posts a day, are always ready to make a scandal out of a tidbit. Gawker.com's obsessive coverage of Julia Allison (including plenty of bikini shots) heightened the Star magazine editor's profile immeasurably. In case readers are itching to know more, there's always Allison's own navel-gazing site, Itsmejulia.com. In f