Press

Christopher Mason, who makes his House of SpeakEasy bow on May 20, is an author, journalist, photographer, television presenter, wearer of excellent bow-ties, and singer-songwriter extraordinaire. It’s in this latter capacity that he’ll be entertaining the crowd at City Winery next week, much as he’s previously delighted mayors, senators, princes, duchesses, and Bob Weinstein’s three-year-old son. This week I spoke to Christopher about his fabulous career.

A Lotta Talent Comes a Long Long Way. Christopher Mason arrived on these shores in 1983 at just about this time of the year, fresh from graduating Cambridge in England. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, knowing only that New York was where he wanted to be.

How does a jaded New Yorker know when a party is truly chic? Christopher Mason is at the piano, belting out one of his highly original and deeply satirical songs. It is generally agreed, among the general agreers (you know who you are), that if there is a Noel Coward or a Cole Porter in our midst today, it is Mr. Mason.

Mason's specialization in books about the rich and famous may in part derive from an earlier career as a singer/songwriter at elegant social affairs. Writing in the style "of his idols: Tom Lehrer, Cole Porter, and Noel Coward," according to a profile on the List Web site, Mason wrote and performed for such famous figures as Brooke Astor, Jackie Onassis, Ivana Trump, William Paley, David Rockefeller, and, in January 1988, President-elect George H. W. Bush.

In the strange and enchanted career of Christopher Mason, a 27-year-old wag from England who belts out designer songs on baby grands along the avenues, Park and Fifth, last week proved more eventful than most. ''Three incredible things happened,'' Mr. Mason said, looking bemused. ''I got a book deal, a promotional advertising deal and a contract to play the Algonquin for the month of May. The Algonquin!'' He beamed. ''I'm to be billed as 'a New York legend since 1988,' which is a comment on the way things work in New York.''

As high-profit benefits go, this one started out on a low key. Dress was not black tie. Dinner was hot dogs, chili, and Mortimer's own little ''society sandwiches.'' And one of the entertainers was Christopher Mason, a 27-year-old wag from England, who held forth at a piano inside the restaurant with an original song dedicated to the so-called Nouvelle Society and titled ''The Nouvelle Restraint.'' Lacroix made them big and was king for a day But the pouf had the fate of a fallen souffle Bold simplicity both in behavior and dress Is the new fad that's purged this last year of excess. Old guard leaders like Judy Peabody and Pat Buckley laughed. So wicked, this nascent Noel Coward, they said. Mrs. Buckley called for an end to ''Marie Antoinette time.'' Then Blaine Trump, Mai Hallingby and others in the new order laughed, too.