We Had the Time 100 of Our Lives 36703

You’re only reading this for the boldfaced names. So fine, let’s cut to the chase: Martha Stewart, Richard Branson, Michael J. Fox, Cate Blanchett, Brian Willams, John Mayer, Gayle King (sans Oprah) and Elie Wiesel were there, separately of course. Not to mention America Ferrera, George Lucas, Arianna Huffington, Ziyi Zhang, Elizabeth and John Edwards, Brian Grazer, and Malcolm Gladwell’s hair. And yes, there were more. Like those girls behind The Secret.

And, now that we’ve got that out of the way, we can get on with telling you about last night’s Time 100 event. For starters, it was at Jazz at Lincoln Center at the Time Warner Center, which is akin to, say, you throwing a party in your own 80-story glass tower. Except it wasn’t you, it was Dick Parons.

It’s Time’s third year in a row throwing this bash, which is part marketing gimmick, part celeb worship, and part excuse to impress Jordan’s Queen Rania (and, of course, Julia Allison) with the Central Park view.

Time Inc.’s publicity team can rest assured: They’ve succeeded in all three.

The evening began, as all of these evenings do, with a cocktail reception that involved red carpet entrances for everyone. That’s Time’s way of saying, “Tonight, even homely web-savvy reporters are celebrities.” It made most of them feel awkward.

It was in this pre-event hour (sponsored by Cartier! it must be mentioned) that MSNBC general manager Dan Abrams, unsolicited, reminded us that he created Keith Olbermann’s star (a joke, or at least a halfway joke); that we avoided Steve Martin (after our run-in with him the previous evening); that we reminded Richard Johnson we made Corynne Steindler; that Time managing editor Rick Stengel flattered us with the knowledge that he reads this website (Hi Rick!); and that we refilled our champagne flute six or seventeen times.

Satiated with finger food, we made our way into the reception hall, quickly surveying the scene: While we could understand ourselves being seated on the top floor (as were Marketwatch’s Jon Friedman, Page Six’s Steindler, the Observer’s Michael Calderone, Time’s Ana Marie Cox, Radar’s Jeff Bercovici, Gawker’s Doree Shafrir, and Rubenstein’s Steve Rubenstein), more than one attendee asked what boy wonder Jared Kushner was doing seated on the main floor, with Jim Kelly and NYPD Commissioner Ray Kelly, while actual industry veterans like Richard Johnson were relegated to upper level seating. (For what it’s worth, Kushner insisted he was seated at “the kid’s table” at the Met gala the previous evening.)

But all was quieted when a confident, dare we say sexy, Rick Stengel kicked off the evening and introduced Youssou N’dour as the entertainment during the lobster appetizers. As we moved on and thru the entree (pork chops), Time 100 luminaries took the mic to honor one person who changed their lives. Mayor Bloomberg’s speech was tarnished by his mention of hiring “a black” (we hear they’re called “black people” now); Elizabeth Edwards gave a genuinely moving speech about her Japanese dance instructor; a humble Brian Williams got laughs for calling the evening “AA for insecure people”; and Richard Branson, straight from a trip to the Arctic, couldn’t choose just one person who inspired him, so he went with Tutu and Mandela.

Sometime between course two and more speeches by honorees, we ran into Dave Zinczenko outside the bathroom, hovered over his phone, likely texting some PYT. “Waiting for your buddy?” we asked. “Yeah!,” laughed The Z. “He’s actually inside.” He wasn’t kidding. Dan Abrams was at Urinal No. 3. (He washed his hands.)

Patrick McMullan was his usual self, dodging wine glasses to snap photos and have guests shout each letter of their last name into his camera.

Gayle King complimented us on our eyes. She was likely just glad we didn’t ask her about her “special relationship” with Oprah. Or what she was doing there.

Though perhaps she was there to fill the people of color quotient. “It’s nice to see so many white faces,” was one mocking comment we overheard. ‘Twas true: The audience was a sea of white wash. Except for that astrophysicist. Though he was an honoree.

The evening closed with three-song set by John Mayer, whose new ‘do was what most guests were yammering on about. It was hard to tell; Joel Stein managed to block our view of the entire performance. But having watched most of the evening from the projection screen, that’s where we turned our attention during “Waiting for the World to Change.” They were right: John’s hair looked good. They should make that a new category.