Fans of fictionalized polygamy will be happy to know that Ginnifer Goodwin has been hard at work and is currently in the midst of production on HBO's "Big Love." But last night the actress took a break to host a dinner (at the Beverly Hills home of impresario Sam Nazarian) honoring MaxMara's Nicola Maramotti and the fashion brand's long involvement with Women in Film, the nonprofit organization dedicated to empowering and recognizing, you guessed it, women in the film industry. In the interest of mutual support, tonight Goodwin will receive MaxMara's Face of the Future Award at the Women in Film Crystal + Lucy Awards Gala. (Also being honored are Diane English, Salma Hayek, and Sherry Lansing.) But then it's back to work, to satisfy those who can't wait to see what dramas are set to unfold in Sandy, Utah.

The movies sure aren't what they used to be. That much was clear at last night's Cinema Society screening of "Trumbo," Peter Askin's documentary about outspoken Oscar-winning screenwriter Dalton Trumbo ("Spartacus," "The Brave One") and the injustices of the McCarthy-era Hollywood blacklist. Talk, naturally, turned to the bad old good old days. Francisco Costa nominated Joan Crawford for baddest big-screen diva: "She really epitomized Hollywood in its best and its worst." Meanwhile, cast member Josh Lucas sang the praises of Steve McQueen—"talk about a raw, masculine force"—and Paul Newman, who gave him a case of I'm-in-the-presence-of-greatness jitters a few years ago on the set of "Empire Falls." But modern times have brought improvements, too. For starters, there's that blacklist. And cast member Joan Allen said there's one particularly restrictive aspect of classic Hollywood that she's happy to see gone for good: "A lot of uncomfortable undergarments—those long bras that sort of cinch you in. Thank God!"

Cosmetics ads promise to turn faces into works of art. In a related move, the seven artists, designers, and fashion photographers in the "Lip-gloss and Lacquer" show at London's Spring Projects gallery pay homage to the seductive allure of beauty products with works that emulate the flawless finish and high sheen of a lip lacquered with lip gloss (in the case of Lawrence Weiner's sculpture made from lipstick, this is literally true). Though the works all radiate a shiny aesthetic, not all the participants in the show are wholeheartedly supportive of high-fashion spin and the high hopes it generates. In other words, the magic is leavened with reality.

"In this town, where we get obsessed with a lot of things frivolous like hair and makeup and fashion, we need to be at least as obsessed with politics," rallied Kerry Washington last night at Nanette Lepore and the Creative Coalition's Fashion Votes event, held at the designer's Melrose boutique. The bipartisan gathering attracted a colorful crowd, from Perrey Reeves and Alfre Woodard to Illeana Douglas and…Tom Arnold. "I am always, just so you know, when I am up on the hill, dressed in a Nanette Lepore suit," Washington continued, thanking the designer for her contributions to the coalition, whose aim is to increase political awareness and voter turnout. She then warned, "And if you're not registered, don't let me find out about it, because I will hunt you down."

"Honestly, I was sick of seeing the era represented as some kind of joke in movies like Austin Powers," explained Alastair Gordon at last night's party for his new book, "Spaced Out: Radical Environments of the Psychedelic Sixties." "We all know about the drugs and the music, but there was revolutionary stuff going on in terms of the visual culture, too." A taste of that visual culture was provided courtesy of the light show put on by Tony Martin and USCO, one of the pioneer multimedia collectives of the tune-in, turn-on, drop-out era. Naturally, Gordon was especially eager to see how younger readers would react to the archival photos collected in "Spaced Out." "We've been having such a modernism moment, and for so long, it feels like it's time for a fresh set of influences," he said. "The sixties were about a movement, and people forget that, because the whole era has been drowned in kitsch. But if you look around, you sense the same things in the air now."

The Mets fired coach Willie Randolph last night, and sports people are reeling. From what we can tell (though really, we're not so up on our sports metaphors), this would be something like Chanel asking Karl to leave and then hiring an underling to do his job.

It's bigger than Canal Street. Apparently everything sold in China is a fake.

Mary J. Blige is "blessed," and she feels for you. Go on, let her buy you some Diane von Furstenberg.

Belmacz jewelery has long been a favorite of London's royal and celebrity sets. So when designer Julia Muggenburg branched into beauty last year, her Gold Leaf Lip Gloss, flecked with real gold, became not only an instant hit, but a bona fide cult item. Muggenburg is continuing her deluxe beauty line with Oyster Pearl Powder, a translucent face powder that contains—you guessed it—tiny bits of crushed pearls. According to its creator, it's less of a luxury and more of a sine qua non. "The Oyster Pearl Powder is personal. It was created out of necessity. After all, the chicest things in life are always necessary." Oyster Pearl Powder, approximately $50, available at Barneys New York, Colette, and Belmacz.

Cool women cooling themselves off wearing hot clothes in hotter climates are the subjects of "Echo From Cairo," Egyptian painter Hani Rashed's new show at Dubai's B-21 Gallery. The simple, cartoon-inspired images of faceless girls trying to find relief from oppressive temperatures represent "simple people, with whom I could engage in a way others don't. They are people that attracted me, people I felt close to," the artist says. Although it's unlikely that anyone would want to be close to anyone else during the summer (this is one is proving especially scorching) in Dubai, besides in a nicely chilled shopping mall. Or art gallery.

"I was just out of school and I really had no idea where I could show my work," explains Sophie Morner of her inspiration for Capricious magazine, which just released its eighth issue. "It turned out that a lot of my friends had no idea where to show their work, either." A similar inspiration drove Morner to create Capricious Space in Williamsburg. The new gallery opened on Friday with a show of photos from the new Capricious magazine; later this month, the space will play host to an exhibit featuring work by artists such as Mirabelle Marden. Future shows in the works will be guest-curated by the likes of photographer Collier Schorr and Hedi Slimane. For all the starriness, Morner is characteristically low-key about her new project. "I don't even want to call it a gallery, you know? I'd like it to be a place where lots of stuff can happen, like we can have a thrift shop for plants, for example." A thrift shop for plants? "Well, people move, and they have these plants that get left behind. I'll be happy if Capricious can be the place for those kinds of random things."

Russians know how to lay on the hospitality. The night after her dinner (although me thinks there was more vodka swilling than actual eating going on) in honor of the opening of the Center for Contemporary Culture in Moscow, which boasted a private Amy Winehouse concert, Dasha Zhukova decided to host another little fëte for her jet-set crew at the Café des Artistes. All her usual suspects were there, along with one extra-special guest: Lenny Kravitz. After the four-course meal, the leather-clad musician discussed the following happenstance with legendary man-about-town/photographer Jean Pigozzi: "Remember that time at in New York when we were all at your apartment? It was just after I did that Madonna video, 'Justify Your Love'? It was snowing and I got this picture from that night, with Phil Spector? Wild night, man. Wild night." I wasn't the only one on the edge of my seat—which, by the way, was a position I maintained for the evening. After the Kravitz revelations, Zhukova marched us to a place called the Soho Room for yet another surprise: a Goldfrapp concert. After the pintsize, barefoot Alison Goldfrapp finished her set, guests retired to the VIP section on the roof to enjoy a synchronized swim show and the sunrise (no funny business, though: The sun rises at 3 a.m. in these parts).