Leave it to the New York Observer to go above and beyond the call of duty when it comes to the Oscar wrap-ups. The Transom reports not just from a Thursday pre-Oscar party at Mondrian, but from the men's room,

which was rapidly being permeated by a fetid odor. "Jesus!" said a curly-haired man at the front of the one stall, scrunching his face in disgust. "Oh man--that's awful!" gasped another, burrowing his head inside his trench coat. "Lawd-a-mercy!" cried still another, and then: "Check out those shoes," pointing to the black suede loafers peeking out from under the stall.

After about 10 minutes, the stall's occupant began jiggling the apparently jammed door, with increasing aggravation. The Transom helped wrench it open, only to encounter oil heir Jason Davis, the larger, lesser-known brother of Brandon, dressed all in black, with a white scarf and platinum hair.

Before The Transom could compliment Mr. Davis's performance and inquire as to his influences, the latter man made for the door--no doubt much lighter on his feet than before.

Kudos to The Transom for sniffing this story out!