When Carter first announced that it would bring its usual Oscar party back this year, he said they were going to aim for a guest list of 650 instead of the customary 1,000-plus names. The move to pare down invites made sense given the recessionary times and the recent not-so-opulent mood at Conde Nast. But deciding who would get cut from the list — which, while full of celebrities, also includes more than a few advertisers who are currently being begged to buy ad pages — would have been a mighty chore.

This is the first year Vanity Fair is throwing the bash at the Sunset Tower Hotel (last year's party was cancelled amidst the writers strike; before that it was thrown for fourteen years at the restaurant Morton's). It's the same place where the magazine has thrown its Golden Globes party, so the party planners are familiar with the space. Morton's had a parking lot where they could set up a tent. But having spent some time at the Sunset Tower, it's difficult to imagine 1,000 people cramming into the hotel's lounge, bar and pool area all at once.

It was editor-in-chief Graydon Carter himself who called in the orders to screw shut the fudge spigots that would have turned Morton's into a living, breathing Chocolate Rainforest, replete with edible gummy macaques and a live musical performance by Tay Zonday. We bring good news, however: The Vanity Fair party is indeed on this year, albeit relocated to the far more intimate Sunset Tower Bar, in keeping with the current climate of corporate thriftiness. What's more, the magazine has secured the sponsorship of three blue-chip advertisers to fuel their week of Oscar starfuckery. From wwd.com:

The series of pre-Oscar events, christened "Campaign Hollywood" and cosponsored by advertisers BMW, Dior and Bally, begins Monday with VF portraits of Oscar-nominated and -winning actors being unveiled in the windows of Rodeo Drive boutiques...

On Feb. 20, daytime festivities include a test-drive of the new BMW 7 Series beginning at Griffith Park Observatory and ending with lunch at the John Lautner-designed Garcia Home.

That night's festivities include Bally's Hollywood Domino party on the rooftop of the new Andaz West Hollywood hotel, hosted by Bally creative director Brian Atwood and Kate Bosworth to benefit the Art of Elysium.

Finally, the magazine's famed post-Oscar party returns this year in a new location, the Sunset Tower hotel, which boasts a killer view but much less space than Morton's. Already several regular invitees have noticed the scale back, quietly asking one another, "I didn't get my invite this year, did you?"

If you're a regular on the guest list and have yet to receive yours, don't panic. In a cost-cutting measure, they've decided to forgo stamped invites, in favor of tagging potential guests in a Facebook note from Carter asking for "25 Facts About You Proving Your Worth To Our Fabulous A-list Party." Failing that, there's always the last-ditch, Sean Young approach: big sunglasses, black Reeboks, and hauling tail like your career depends upon it.

• Vanity Fair's Oscar Comeback... [WWDMEDIA]

We appreciate Stanley Kubrick's film quite a bit ourselves — enough to be disappointed that Aguilera is missing not only the codpiece in her Droog costume, but also the point. Failing a browse through Anthony Burgess's source novel — strung through with autobiographical references such as the gang rape of his wife during World War II and his own suffering during a home-invasion robbery — we thought at least the characters' beating and bludgeoning might be more geared to a Halloween get-together. If you really want to impress your friends, try a masked orgy a la Eyes Wide Shut or, better yet, a Dr. Strangelove party at which Chace Crawford arrives 90 minutes late on a nuclear bomb.

• Christina Aguilera has a birthday party [The Superficial]

“After waiting in an area with an open bar and a DJ, we walked up a driveway illuminated by fluorescent lights to a darkened room where we saw 40 nude women. Most of them were wearing strange masks made of wool. “The models stood in the middle of the room - black girls at the front and white girls at the back. Then the entire album played without any introduction or explanation.”

This is the new standard for everything. Maybe not so fun for the ladies, though.

[via LA Rag Mag. Further...art shots at Kanye's blog]

According to Variety, his storied pre-Oscar party, the Friday night destination where Not So Young Hollywood would gather to reminisce about a time when they could stoop to blow some rails off a coffee table without suffering a back injury requiring immediate chiropractic correction, has been canceled.

"After what has happened with this strike, with so much up in the air about the Oscars, and with so many people out of work, I just don't feel like celebrating," Limato told Daily Variety

No decisions have been made yet on the other two major agency-sponsored Friday night parties. CAA hosts one at the home of agency partner Bryan Lourd, and Endeavor hosts its party at the home of partner Ari Emanuel. Sources said that both agencies are proceeding with planning, even for scaled-down versions of parties that normally carry six-figure pricetags for tents, catering, valet parking, even putting Plexiglas flooring over swimming pools to handle all the revelers.

It certainly will come as a relief to the industry's best-connected revelers that the CAA and Endeavor gatherings may still be held in some form, even if Lourd, his hand forced by the prevailing sentiment of restraint gripping his strike-crippled company town, grudgingly cancels the delivery of fresh Guatemalan babies he customarily has flown in by private jet for the event. Indeed, many of his guests would be disappointed by such a decision, but it would be the height of bad form to grouse about the necessary cutback, no matter how much one misses the much-anticipated sight of dozens of cooing infants crawling around in their buffet-side pen, waiting to be hand-selected by hungry party-goers looking for a tasty snack.

• Limato nixes Oscar party [Variety]

"It was so much fun!" a guest tells PEOPLE.

Boasting a Who's Who celeb turnout, including Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher, Brooke Shields and husband Chris Henchy, Jim Carrey and Jenny McCarthy, Bruce Willis, newlywed Eva Longoria (without Tony Parker), Ron Howard, Brian Grazer and Quincy Jones, the party came on the heels of Saturday's much-anticipated American debut of the L.A. Galaxy's newest and most famous soccer player.

Holmes and Cruise, who flew in for the weekend from Germany where he's shooting the movie Valkyrie, drove to the party with the Smiths, and the three couples posed for photos before heading inside the decked-out warehouse space, where a deejay spun tunes into the night.

And the music struck responsive chords, with the Cruises, Smiths and Beckhams all hitting the dance floor.

On the menu were such British favorites as bangers and mash (sausages and mashed potatoes), as well as such classic American fare as burgers, fries and salad.

Once the dance floor finally cleared (that Will Smith character can really get the "booties" moving with his lively "raps"!), the assembled revelers somberly gathered to participate for the evening's centerpiece: the ritualistic sacrifice of two cater-waiters (one for each royal, naturally) by the winners of a special raffle, a dramatic act of fealty demonstrating that everyone in attendance is utterly dedicated to the service of their belevolent king and queen. The Beckhams are expected to proudly display the blood-stained jackets of the fallen servers above the mantle of their Bel Air mansion, alongside the mounted head of a Hilton heiress just as soon as one can be captured.

• Inside the Beckhams' Star-Studded Bash [People]
• Previously: David Beckham Disappoints CAA Minions Forced To Show Genuine Enthuiasm For His L.A. Arrival [Defamer]

To make matters even more confusing, Fishbowl LA notes that the guys are hosting a Sons of Hollywood party Tuesday night at the Stoli Hotel, where you can presumably wish them the best of luck with their future, non-televised endeavors, while indulging in complimentary libations from Hollywood's hottest liquor-branded celebutard gathering spot. We'd suggest keeping the open mocking to a minimum, however, as the short-tempered and easily confused Stewart has been known to lash out like a cornered possum whenever put on the defensive, and if there are no shards of Stoli Blueberry bottle on hand, he won't hesitate to simply use his razor-sharp marsupial teeth.

• Sons of Hollywood Check into Stoli Hotel [FBLA]
• Report: Plug Pulled On 'Sons Of Hollywood' [CBS2.com]
• Previously: Sean Stewart Gone Dumb: A 'Sons Of Hollywood' Montage [Defamer]

[Writer Toby] Young, who has been faking his way into fetes for almost 30 years, says that if he were to attempt the Vanity Fair party again this year, he would rent an L.A. fire marshal costume. "The people in charge are terrified of the fire marshals because they can close the party down in seconds," he says. In this case, he suggests wearing a tuxedo underneath. He explains: "As soon as you were in, you'd head straight for the toilets, get rid of the fire marshal costume, and then head back out into the party."

Indeed, it's an incredible longshot, especially when one considers that in Hollywood even the fire marshal is famous. We'd recommend the time-tested and far safer route of simply offering to fellate anyone wearing a security uniform, then hoping that they're not also some crasher who rented a costume and showed up just to collect free blowjobs all night.

• The Thin Red Line [Radar]

Elton...has lined up music genius John Legend to treat VIP guests to tracks from his hit album Get Lifted at the Pacific Design Center. [...]

"I am so thrilled that he won three Grammys last week and even more thrilled that he will be playing at our Oscars party."

Our insider tells us: "Vanity Fair and Elton always throw the hottest parties but this year the competition is stiffer than ever. [...]

We have it on good authority that the chosen few will also walk off with goodie-bags filled with jewellery, perfume and exclusive hair products.

While the rivalry between Sir Elton and Graydon Carter is entertaining, this year things have gotten somewhat out of hand, with reports that the two plan on settling their differences at the Governor's Ball buffet table, with a winner-takes-all match of naked truffle-oil wrestling.

• OSCAR BRAVO [Mirror.co.uk]
• Previously: Vanity Fair s $2 Million Orgy [Defamer]

So after James Wood ushered at the screening and blew his noise on a jizz-hankie on screen, it was time to hit the most important part of any premiere—the after party! My genius friend convinced me that we would avoid the parking lot pandemonium by WALKING to the venue...half an hour and two aching feet later we arrived. Blew past the front check in, grabbed a free drink and made a much needed (after half an hour of WALKING-who friggin walks in LA??) trip to the bathroom. When I got out, friend is nowhere to be seen, I call, he's in VIP, tells me I just need to wave my bracelet, no problem. Walk up (more walking) to the bloated and crowded VIP/velvet rope section, obnoxious bouncer says (dead serious) "We're only letting celebrities in now." WTF??

A minute later, the friend who invited me walks up and I go in with him...as I walk by giving the bouncer a look of death, a woman gang rushes the line, knocks over said bouncer and RUNS INTO THE VIP room. Pandemonium—they "block off" the line, friend is stuck outside, and I escape to get more drinks like the friend-whore I am. Saw Point Pleasant girl, dry heaved every time James Wood dance-humped his way younger companion, Evan Rachel in a hideous early 90s crushed velvet monstrosity (she was amazing though, must say), good times.

And on a side note, was totally expecting good food at this thing, as have been spoiled by Defamer's premiere critic...perhaps to go with the theme of bulimic, catty high school girls, it was fitting that the only food I saw was a lone, mangled Twinkie. Overwhelmed by the night's most obvious metaphor, I got my ass back to the Arclight to pick up my car.

But this time I took a cab.

Lastly, here's another spy's cam-phone picture of James Woods "yukking it up" with people in the crowd, some of whom he would soon assist in exiting the the overbooked screening.

• One Night At The ArcLight: "Pretty Persuasion" Fiascos, Keanu Reeves Models A Helmet [Defamer]

I got a call from a pal to volunteer last Saturday night at the Playboy Mansion(TM) for a charity event, and saw several celeb-ishes up close and personal. I know this is long; sorry—like I say I'm new in town and shit like the Playboy Mansion still turns me on.
Big name first: Eva Longoria, sitting in the VIP section of the food tent with some NBA players, stroking a couple of adorable puppies that were going up for auction (actual canines, not whatever you were thinking I might mean). Sorry, not a sports fan so I don't know the guys, but they were indeed hott(!). Eva was wearing a white halter dress with coral polka dots, and had so much of the tinycute going on that she was making Hef's adorable Capuchin monkeys jealous. Spotted her kissing on one of the NBAers; they disappeared shortly after but were not in the Grotto to my recollection (spotty at best).

Then there was Robin Leach, a bigger celeb than ever (in the physical sense anyway, god love him), smoking a cigar in the game room and chatting with a half dozen Playmates. Pink shirt, black pants hiked up to his tits. He asked a woman there, a lawyer, was she a "good lawyer," and tapped his heart. They then had a semi-heated discussion about Native American healthcare. The subject turned to books, and when pressed to name a favorite author, he said he had so many favorites he couldn't name any, but finally coughed up Ken Follett. I don't know the author (I can't read), but I asked him to name a title or two and he claimed that the guy had written so many, he couldn't remember any titles. He's got people to remember that stuff for him, I guess. He was offered a tour of the Mansion, but assured us he had "toured the mansion on many occasions." I kept trying to think of something to say to the dude...drew a total blank. Probably for the best. Though he was looking at me like he couldn't think of shit to say, either.
Finally, we have Rocco DiSpirito, that chef from "The Restaurant," hanging also in the game room, dressed in a self-consciously mismatched patterned shirt/tie/jacket and black jeans. Ginormous 3D sculpted belt buckle: eagle in flight, totally comin-at-ya-talon style. We were checking each other out in the earlier part of the evening...I didn't know who he was (still kinda don't). He seemed nonplussed when a well-manicured male guest stepped between us at the bar and "bought" me a free drink. When we were introduced later, he claimed we had already met...I guess ogling passes for an introduction where he comes from. He showed me how to play a very violent Japanese video game which I wish I could play right this minute, and was called away on celeb-chef business. I guess someone told him I wasn't "with the Mansion," because he very pointedly blew me off two hours later in the aforementioned VIP section and headed for a table full of Playmates/Bunnies. Well, if I were a kinda famous chef guy, or any kinda guy at ALL, and I were visiting the Mansion, I'd surely try the signature dish by going for the Hef-Approved beauties (truly, those gals are really too sweet in every way—a couple Bunnies even mentioned they liked my earrings). Fortunately, my evening was saved by a rich-but-(thankfully)-not-famous financier who proposed marriage immediately upon my entering the Grotto.
By the by, Hef never made an appearance, but one of the Playmates said it WAS classic movie night, so, I guess he stayed in (also, date nights are Monday and Wednesday). I did find evidence via a notepad in a drawer (I was looking for a piece of paper, okay?) that he kicked some major ass on his "Space Invaders" pinball game back in 1980—like, 20-plus peoples' asses over the course of that year. I don't know why, but that seemed like one of the awesomest things I saw, in a night full of awesome. Without a doubt, that Hef could give both Eva and the monkeys a serious run for their cute-as-hell money.

Confidential to Hef, I love you, thanks for a great evening, and please don't let my idle gossip prevent a future invitation.

We'll forward the bunny ears directly to our operative when they arrive.

The excitement the hotel has about having Amanda Demme host her private parties at the Tropicana Bar in the pool area seems to obscure [the hotel's] vision when it comes to offering service to their guests. When we stayed there recently, the pool was closed to hotel guests at random times during my stay - 5PM, 6PM, 2-6PM on a Sunday afternoon of the long weekend - and unfriendly and intimidating bouncers sit at the entrance to the pool to make sure no hotel guests enter during these times. At times the only restaurant in the hotel was closed for a private party at the same time as the pool was closed, leaving guests nowhere to have a drink or cup of coffee.

We don't see the situation improving in the near future, as draining, scrubbing, and refilling the pool after hotel guest use to prepare for the pristine bodies of Kirsten Dunst and Lindsay Lohan is both time- and cost-prohibitive. We hear they have a lovely pool up the street at the Hollywood Y, perfectly suitable for a quick dip during randomly scheduled party closures.

• Denied Poolside [LA.comfidential]
• The New Roosevelt Courts The Great And Interesting [Defamer]

Our friends invited us to a party in the Malibu Colony, and I wasn't totally sure what I was getting into, but I was assured that the fireworks would be delicious. So, we headed over there, parked near the PCH with the rest of the plebes, and headed in for the evening. People were descending into the neighborhood like packs of sluttily-dressed wolves, so I began to figure something was up, and I got my first taste of it inside the colony when I noticed a heavyset woman heading towards us with a teenage girl and a few other peeps. A closer look proved to show Courtney Love in all of her patriotic glory. Yeah, she looks bad.

Next, Jim Carrey led the way as he and two friends walked down the street towards their lair of choice. He is very tall. We passed a few parties where I remain convinced there were hookers for hire, took a walk on the beach and saw Rachel Hunter sitting on her friend's porch. I so wanted to bust out some tango moves, but I thought it might be too painful for her and get me ejected from a day of glorious sightings.

After sitting through a completely anti-climactic fog-filled fireworks display, we started to walk out of the colony, and passed Pamela Anderson and a group of friends standing inside of her garage. She was looking better than she does in all of those horrible paparazzi photos, but still looked just like you would expect her to look. Big blonde hair, white button down shirt.
Earlier in the day we saw one of the Anderson-Lee hybrid children speeding down the street with one Ugg-covered foot on the handle bar of his razor scooter. A few people in my group missed that spawn sighting because they were so distracted by a man dropping a Ziplock bag of cocaine in the middle of the street. That just couldn't be scripted any better.

Well, perhaps if Courtney Love then appeared out of nowhere to dive onto the fumbled bag of booger sugar, we'd all be experiencing a more perfectly-scripted holiday miracle. But either way, God bless America.

UPDATE: Another reader weighs in on the oddly star-starved scene at Carbon Beach:

Usually it's the reverse, The Colony has more d-listers and Carbon has the A group, but not this year.

Sitting on the beach in front of two catered and full-bar parties (one a TV station owner, the other a music label owner) from 3-10, it was a virtual parade of the b through d group. Gone from the walking tour this year were regulars Leo and Tobey, Courteney and David, various Osbournes and others. Easiest to just list them, the comments almost write themselves:

Kenny G
Melissa Rivers
Daryl Hannah
Jonathan Antin
Bruce Jenner

SHANE WEST / ERIC PODWELL BIRTHDAY PARTY
June 18th
Hollywood Hills
PARIS MAKING ONE MORE APPERANCE...
Paris was seen with sister in hand at the celebrity filled Shane West birthday party in the Hollywood hills, celebrating with about 5 of her girl friends. She must be making one more appearance before her non parting days...

She looked amazing with a bright pink dress and her famous blond locks covering half her face. Insiders says she was on her notorious Sidekick the whole night until she was seen screaming at Publicist Rembrandt Flores to help protect her from the paparazzi “stalking” her as she left Shane’s party. (Her and Nicky both declined to pose for press)

Gabrielle union and Jill Jones drinking stockholm krystall at shane west's birthday.
Rachel Bilson and crew dancing till the break of dawn at Shane west/ Eric podwall birthday...

Compare this report with one submitted by a reader, whose concerns were a little more practical than the flack's:

Went to Shane West's and Eric Podwell's birthday party on Saturday night. Good event with one minor exception - for a party of 400 people, only two restrooms (Porta Potties) open to the guests. Everyone was doing the pee pee dance in line, which took 30 minutes to get through.

So here's a free tip for any party planners trying to keep their guests happy: Next time, fewer Hiltons, more Porta Potties.

Last night I attended the opening night party of the Los Angeles Film Festival at the Palladium. An exceptionally good time, marred only by the tiny cups that the bartenders used to serve drinks and their insistence on a one-drink-per-person-per-trip-to-the-bar policy. Which meant I spent a lot of time standing in line. Unfortunately, the evening met with an anticlimactic end, due to what might be the lamest giftbag in history. Certainly, it was the first time I’d ever received a tube of “Flexitol Heel Balm” as a party favor. This salve, apparently, is meant to assuage the discomfort of one’s “rough, dry and cracked feet.” What a pleasant surprise to reach into a swag bag and pull out a box with a bunch of pictures of calloused heels and toes on it. Thankfully, the packaging informs me that the Balm can be used “for general AND diabetic footcare,” so I got that going for me.

Apart from this medicine cabinet treasure, the best part of last night’s swag bag was probably the bag itself: a semi-stylish black vinyl purse with two white Target logos stitched onto it. Inside, I found the two staple products that have been included in every Hollywood swag bag since the dawn of time — a box of Tazo tea and an Altoids tin. The only other food item was a large box of Pop Secret microwave popcorn. Also included were two gift certificates, one for a free acupuncture session and one for $1,000 off laser eye surgery ($500 per eye), and a wrinkly IFC TV mousepad (Defamer readers who attended last night probably just thought to themselves, “oh that’s what that is”).

Finally, our generous hosts included a bottle of “Circle of Friends Oom Pah Pah Shampoo” which has the delightful tale of a small German child printed on one side. “Guten Tag!” it says. “My name is Hans. I live in a country that until recently was divided into East and West by the Berlin Wall.” Geographical inaccuracy notwithstanding (Berlin, a CITY, was divided into east and west by the Berlin Wall, while Germany, a COUNTRY, was divided into east and west by ten thousand Soviets with machine guns), I look forward to my next shower with my new bottle of neon blue hair product.

• Worst. Star Wars. Gift Bag. Ever. [Defamer]

• 2005: George Lucas [AFI.com]

I was at Lindsay Lohan's post-MTV Awards party at the Standard Lounge on Saturday night. Celebs everywhere - even Jessica Alba made a brief cameo. But two other celebs were singled out for rejection by Lohan herself. Per her instructions to security, both Jessica Simpson and Kirsten Dunst were denied entry to the soiree! Jessica was very gracious and didn't put up much of a protest before leaving, but Kirsten seemed particularly incensed by the dismissal. In other interesting tidbits, both Lohan gal pals Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie were in attendance - and Lohan made sure that her entourage kept both of them on opposite ends of the room the entire night! Well, at least she invited both of them, right?

Luckily, both Dunst and Simpson and found refuge at Jimmy Fallon's party at the nearby Argyle, temporarily postponing any tabloid-stoking revenge killings:

Saturday night, post MTV Movie Awards. We thought we were going to Lindsey Lohan's party at the Argyle last night, but we ended up at what I think was Jimmy Fallon's crowded suite party. Never found out exactly who the host was, generously providing the booze. Either way, a lot of SNL folks were there, Mr. Fallon, along with Amy Poehler and Will Arnett and Will Forte and a bunch of other faces I recognized but couldn't name because I don't watch the show anymore. My girlfriend was oogling over the surprisingly tall American Idol reject Constantine Maroulis, who was posing for a lot of silly pictures, chatting mostly with his date, an equally tall dark-haired beauty. A very dressed up Jessica Simpson held court on the couch in a long backless black dress, hair extensions down to her butt, Nick Lachey smiling and stoking her back. Kirsten Dunst hanging out on the balcony with Jake Gyllenhaal, both dressed in jeans and looking relaxed. Leelee Sobieski smoking those French cigs that come in a box. Porn star Mary Carey, looking like, well, a porn star, or just someone from the valley. My girlfriend was pissed I recognized her. Ashlee Simpson showed up later with some girlfriends, looking pretty cute and casual. A bunch of MTV Real World girls seemed to be enjoying themselves, as was most of the crowd that stayed well past 4AM.

We'll keep you updated on any violent reprisals, like if Lohan finds herself brutally beaten on the way out of Spider Club by an unidentifiable, but curiously dreamy-eyed, assailant.

• Previous Party Reports [Defamer]

Last night's Hillary Clinton "re-election" fundraiser (coughpresidentialcampaigncough) at Roland Emmerich's house was a much better organized affair than any of last year's John Kerry funders. The beer and wine flowed freely, for those guests brave enough to cross Emmerich's mud-filled lawn to get to the bar. I lost a shoe in that Hollywood swampland. Only a few celebrities showed up to hear Clinton speak. Most remarkably, Lindsay Lohan held court on one of the terraced stairways, while Congressman Brad Sherman chatted up an attractive blonde nearby. Jennifer Tilly spent a healthy amount of time smooching her date alongside the pool. Hillary Clinton addressed the crowd for fifteen to twenty minutes, which would probably be considered generous for this discount $125-a-head fundraiser. Perhaps she was covering for the "special musical guest," advertised on the invite, who didn't show up.

Best thing overheard while schmoozing poolside: ". . . she went from The L-Word to Charmed?!?!?"

We going to assume that the overheard chatters weren't discussing Hillary—everyone knows that she's never leaving The L Word, even if she runs for the White House.

• Hillary Clinton’s Top Secret Fundraising Hollywood Dance Party USA Special [Defamer]

* For security purposes, no guests will be allowed to attend who have not previously RSVP'd. No tickets will be sold at the door.
* Please allow for an additional 15-20 minutes to park in the lot, check your name on the shuttle roster, board and ride the shuttle to the property and check in.
* Expect additional delays if you plan to arrive after 10:30 p.m. Shuttle service will be less frequent after the program begins.
* Entrance to the parking garage is located on El Cerrito off of Hollywood Blvd. Look for Valet of the Dolls parking signs.

To remind everyone, this event is entirely closed press [sic]. Please do NOT speak to the press about the event at any time, and refer all media calls to Senator Clinton's Press Office: (202) xxx-xxxx.

We really wish we'd made the cut. We would've loved to see "co-host" Jake Gyllenhaal lock Hillary in the special plexiglass booth where she'll have sixty seconds to snag as many fluttering donation checks as her little hands allow.

• Clinton funder a top secret affair [LA Observed]