Greg Lindsay

The relaunched Absolute arrived today, looking very similar to its previous incarnation, which shuttered shortly before the March 2006 issue hit newsstands.

Under its new ownership, Michigan-based Hour Media, Absolute will only be distributed through a controlled circulation of super-rich New Yorkers. (Free copies will go to households that make over $500,000 a year). But one can still subscribe: six issues for $90. Previously, it was sold on newsstands for $8 an issue. (The blow-in cards follow after the jump.)

Hour Media's less luxurious publication, New York Home, actually costs a bit less. That publication is six issues for $9.

The magazine's cover stock is remarkably similar to the old Absolute's, only it is about half as thick. Much of the inside of the magazine attempts to mimic the styling of Absolute 1.0.  read more »

The magazine's editorial staff has changed, and there's a new list of contributing editors. Celeb photographer Patrick McMullan is the only holdout from that previous list. But Greg Lindsay, who happily got paid for an Absolute piece that got killed along with Absolute 1.0, is now listed as a contributing editor. -Michael Calderone

The Transom refused to attend Toby Young's book party last night, even though it was clearly the must-attend party of 2002. Did one really have to attend to report it?

Rachel Sklar was in an effusive mood, her rockin' bod swaying slightly with the off-genre Soho House soundtrack. She warmly greeted the overly well-dressed reporter Greg Lindsay. Mr. Lindsay brushed aside compliments on his tan, the result of long hours this summer spent on the fun-loving eastern side of Ocean Beach. Remy Stern rolled his eyes roofdeck-ward almost imperceptibly as Jessica Coen made a crack about the cokey bathrooms of Soho House.

They were all trapped in the so-called "library" room, which contains no books. It was a room too small to contain such egos.

Early enough, Mr. Young's ploy came to fruition. He, and his co-hosts, had invited both Ian Spiegelman and Doug Dechert. The two feuding gentlemen had clearly been in training for this party: both had obviously been consuming massive amounts of carbohydrates in preparation for this moment.

Spencer Morgan in The New York Observer, February 20, 2006:

"Doug, are you going to reach out to Ian?" asked Webster Hall promoter Baird Jones; he is an old friend of Mr. Dechert's and knows how to push his buttons.

"Oh, yeah--I'm gonna reach out with my fist, right in that fuckin' schnoz of his," said Mr. Dechert. He gave his prepared (and likely well-worn) quote about Mr. Spiegelman: "He's a little media mediocrity, and he has the instincts and countenance of a rodent."

(Mr. Spiegelman, reached for comment, declined to be goaded into battle for a second time. "He seems a little obsessed with me. It's kind of gross," wrote Mr. Spiegelman in an e-mail. "I really don't want to be associated with that person at all. And, no, he's not in my book. I write dark, but not that dark.")

And so the boys, at last, shoved each other a wee bit. One question remains: How did Jared Paul Stern, in town just for the night and looking natty, not get any ink out of this party yet?