The Penthouse Club is west of the Shamrock Horse Stables, redolent of horse manure and oats, beyond the ramshackle tire shops and automotive garages. It rises up on Eleventh Avenue like some set from "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure"—a steely Babel of boobs. Last night it was where Imogen Lloyd Webber decided to throw another book party for her debut effort, The Single Survival Girl's Guide. There were a lot of guys in suits there, a couple ladies in business attire and then a brigade of women in negligible negligees that, as the night wore on, wore off.

When we walked in, Biggie Smalls' "Juicy" was playing loudly in the nearly empty room. "Time to get paid, blow up like the World Trade/Born sinner the opposite of a winner/Remember when I used to eat sardines for dinner." On the bar, little steak skewers and mushroom canapés sat next to Learning Annex pamphlets with Imogen's face on the cover. "Single and Happy," it said.

Was this post-feminism or post-post feminism? Eventually, talking it over with Kelly, the Penthouse Executive Club manager, we realized it was post-post-post Feminism, in the same way that taking three rights makes a left. Kelly looked a little bit like Didi Pickles of the Rugrats and is single. Kelly is also a literary agent at PMA. "What's my tip for single girls? Don't be a stripper. The guys we cater to here are rich and sleazy."

Nearby, in a slinky red dress that stopped quite soon after it started, was Charlie. Charlie wasn't single, though her boyfriend, photographer Justin Hyte, wasn't there. Charlie is a graphic novelist. Her comic book is called Cracked Out Super Heroes. At the same time I was desperately looking for a polite way to say, "You look like a stripper. Are you a stripper?" Later in the night, a disembodied voice called out, "Charlie to the stage, please. Charlie." Phew.

Over a complimentary gin and juice, the cocktail waitress was asked if she had any tips for a single girl. Though she herself was in a relationship, she probably gave the best advice of the whole evening: Wait until you find the right one, and in the meantime do everyone else.

The book party wasn't an unqualified success. At its height, maybe 25 people loitered near the bar. And even a portion of them had no idea they were there for a book party. They had come, like three older ladies from the South, through Quintessentially, a concierge company that Imogen sometimes works for.

Deborah, who splits her time between Florida and New York, and her friends, from New Orleans, didn't seem to care that a Latina was dancing to a song called Titty Dancer, her lingerie just a puddle on the stage, her eyes focused on a distant point. Like the Judson Church-era school of downtown dancers, she blurred the line between pedestrian movement and dance. She'd shift her weight, rub her nipples, watch the football game on a flatscreen T.V. It was performative and casual, forced, awkward, natural. No one was watching.

On my way to find Imogen, there was Thomas, a neuroscientist. He was recent friends with Imogen and single himself. He tried to steal my book but I don't blame him. There were only 11 copies. He was German and kind of sleazy! "The thing about dating girls in the States, is you go out on a date, you go out on a date, then you sleep with them. You go out on a date, you go out on a date, you sleep with them. And they never want a relationship!"

I'm not sure that's how it really works but I wasn't going to argue with the dude. He did have a Ph.D.

Imogen Lloyd Webber, as we have previously noted, is a small woman. She was wearing a ladies version of a tuxedo (tuxeda? tuxedette?). And in a way that is not unpleasant she smells like when you floss your teeth, that musty smell that your mouth smells like. That's what she smells like. Again, it's not bad and maybe that's why I like flossing so much.

Anyway, she had no idea why they had the party at the Penthouse Executive Club. She gave me some answer that I think even she didn't believe but the bottom line is that her publicist, Faye Elizabeth, also reps the Penthouse Club.

Imogen says that she is under contract to remain single until the paperback edition of the "Single Girl's Survival Guide" came out in the states. Could that be worth it? And would it have been totally negging her to say so?