Despite an incredibly mawkish trailer, we're highly intrigued by Will Smith's latest sure-to-be hit, Seven Pounds. What is the deal with this movie? A month away from its release and we know scarcely anything about it. We were hoping for some answers when Mr. Smith and his co-star Rosario Dawson appeared with Oprah Winfrey late last week, but we had no such luck. The trio discussed Seven Pounds in very superficial terms, hailing it as "dark", "excruciating" and filled with "loss". According to Ms. Winfrey, we have to see it for ourselves. Ugh! Be more vague, Oprah! Thanks to IMDB, here's what we do know: Mr. Smith plays Ben Thomas, an IRS agent who is haunted by his past. In an effort to make amends he tries to help seven strangers, including Ms. Dawson's Emily, a woman with a heart condition. When Ben falls in love with Emily it predictably complicates matters. Much has been made about the twist ending of the film, and there are shockingly few internet spoilers bouncing around cyberspace. So! Here are our best guesses at spoiling it for you.  read more »

We learned a long time ago to always, always take Will Smith seriously. The man can do anything - fight aliens or zombies, be Ali, love German shepherds, etc. Mr. Smith is on a winning streak: last year I Am Legend made a truckload of money. Ditto last summer's Hancock (which we maintain was secretly Jason Bateman's movie, but whatever). But now we've come upon the trailer for actor's next film, Seven Pounds. The story, as far as we can tell, is about a man who did something really bad (we'll guess murderous drunk driving) and is possibly suicidal over it. But he looks for redemption when he decides to change seven strangers lives.  read more »

No fewer than 20 Arden Wohl-esque headbands were spotted at the Whitney Museum’s Art Party on Wednesday, June 6.  The evening’s dress code was, after all, “hippie chic,” in honor of the museum’s current exhibition, “Summer of Love: Art of the Psychedelic Era.”

Socialite Genevieve Jones looked beautiful in her daisy headband.  Man about town Paul Johnson-Calderon chose a red one (with a matching sash around his waist). to accessorize his tuxedo. The artist duo Andrew Andrew, who dress as twins à la Gilbert-and-George and Viktor-and-Rolf, sported matching ones.  “We bought them in a Japanese supermarket in Hawaii,” they boasted. 

Top model Agnyess Deyn was a standout in her canary-yellow mini-dress by London label Preen.  The Manchester, England, native recently moved to New York.  “I’m still in my honeymoon period with the city,” she said with a smile.

The actress Rosario Dawson, stunning in Max Azria (the design label sponsored the event), said she’s looking forward to Fourth of July Weekend in the Hamptons, where her buddies are throwing a big bash.  Last summer in the Hamptons, The Transom kicked it with Ms. Dawson and her madcap moms, Isabel.  This year, she said, she feels a bit out of it.  “Oh, I don’t even know all the parties,” she said.  “No one ever tells me, I’m never invited anywhere, you know that!”

But attention comic book fanatics: Ms. Dawson is the prototype for a crime-fighting heroine in a comic book named O.C.T.: Occult Crimes Taskforce.  The trade paperback of the first four issues is coming out June 13, and shortly thereafter Ms. Dawson hits the road on a book tour. Whee!

Conspicuously absent from the crowd were the art-world power brokers--curators, critics, gallerists and the like – most of whom are jetting their way to Europe and the month-long jamboree of big exhibitions there.  “There’s only a handful left,” said Whitney director Adam Weinberg of the art gang.  But, no worries, the poor artists themselves are still here, he said. Oh, phew.

Luba Azria, wife of Max, was introduced to Walis Singh Ahluwalia, the jewelry designer.  Ms. Azria, perhaps inspired by Mr. Singh Ahluwalia’s turban, decided to inform him that she’d once attended a great Eastern-meditation camp, of sorts.  “It was a totally amazing experience. It changed my life,” she said.  Mr. Singh Ahluwalia blinked and nodded blankly.

“I’m building a big, beautiful house for all my friends, brick by brick,” he later said about his gem company, House of Waris. 

At last year’s party, Moby told The Transom that he’d washed his hands of the whole affair (“I’m bored,” he’d said.)  This year, he didn’t wash his hands after peeing.  The head-shorn musician turned from the men’s room urinals and headed straight for the door.  “What I love about this party in particular is it’s this odd combination of socialites and degenerate artists,” he said.  “And they sort of rub off on each other.”

However, now in the quiet lull of a Thursday evening, a couple things must be shared:

The prevailing idea appears to have been setting up events that pair country stars with ostensibly non-country locales to see if there is a great explosion, littering the pavement with Prada handbags, bolo ties and a seemingly contradictory sense of both loss and entitlement, and leaving behind a trail of delightful little culture-clash stories in the media.

And now, camera-less, The Transom must go follow Rosario Dawson to a party. It is our lot in life.