This past weekend, I went to the opening reception for the Richard Serra exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art in NYC, with my glamorous mom, who is a member of the museum. I was fortunate enough to read up the review that ran in the NY Times a day earlier, so I was prepared for what I was about to see and not totally clueless. I hate to admit it, but even though I am the daughter of an artist and a paintings' restorer, I was not familiar - before this show - with the kind of work Mr. Serra has done.

The show turned out to be amazing. His work is larger than life and I even realized, thanks to the Times article, that the piece that has intrigued me so much on previous visits to the MoMA - the large walled labyrinth-like roads made out of steel that lead to the outdoors espresso bar in the garden - is Mr. Serra's work.

The invitation read "Cocktail Attire" and I dressed in my lovely DKNY black ballet dress. You can check out a photo taken in the midst of Mr. Serra's work in the garden on my Flickr account. The crowd was definitely in the "average over 50" category, but the outfits ranged from a gold, Mad Max/fake armadillo jacket paired with black odalisk pants, to a completely beige ensemble, which included matching hair, skintone, make-up and pillbox hat. The only non-beige item were the Manolo lime green shoes, worn under trembling ankles. The men - it is always an easier choice for them - came wearing suits, but there were a few standouts, such as the anorexic South Indian wearing all black and converse high tops and the chubby 60-something in bermuda shorts, hiked all the way up to his chest. Mom and I took a seat at one of the small tables on the second level and people watched to our heart's content, while sipping an incredibly strong but tasty California Chardonnay.

Never one to shy away from admiring cute men, I noticed a Kiefer Sutherland look-like, behaving very Jack Bauer from "24" - complete with a wrist walkie-talkie and an ear piece. As most who know me are made painfully aware, Mr. Sutherland is my absolute ideal of a man. I like his cowboy style and I love his TV character's strength, resolve and quick thinking in the face of adversity. The personable dirty blond man at the museum turned out to be a coordinator/security for the party and, by far, the handsomest man there. I owe to him most of the enjoyment of my evening, as I spent wide chunks of time looking around for him and making flirtatious eye contact.

Once we were done with the drinking and people watching - maybe with one Chardonnay too many under our belts - mom and I went to look at the sculptures in the large rooms on the second floor, which were conceived by the MoMA's old - now deceased - curator and were specifically designed to house Mr. Serra's pieces when the museum went through massive renovation. After having walked in and out of these massive and dramatic works of art, we went to the garden and walked through our favorite piece there once more, taking pictures like tourists. I adore the fact that the people at MoMA are not stuck up about photography. One is allowed to discretely take pictures anywhere one's little heart desires. There is a wonderful, architectural and textured look to the Serra sculptures. And although he was born in San Francisco, his work is very New York. The one question I was left with is "Where does he have the space to put these pieces together?" If someone has the answer, please enlighten me. I can only imagine that his backyard is not the same size as mine?!

All in all, a fantastic evening, thanks to interesting outfits, wonderful sculpture and the occasional VERY cute man.