God let's hope she already hired the accent coach already, for real.

From the mailbag:

Today we were going to ask you what direction to go in next as we discover Manhattan's most attractive, and therefore important, people. Shall we look for hotties among architects? Headwaiters? Graphic designers? On a particular block of 52nd street? Do let me know. But while looking for a photo to illustrate the post, we hit a snag. What image immediately communicates the concept "hottie?" Ding ding ding: The Office and bad Robin Williams movie star John Krasinski. Mmm. That's when I realized: John Krasinski is the only celebrity who, given the chance, I would really and truly want to do it with. Weird, right? Aren't we all supposed to have a list? And isn't the list supposed to include, like, Brad Pitt? Personally I wouldn't ride that taut-faced gayseemer after having adopted Angelina Jolie's pussy. And while there are other celebrities I find... compelling (Paul Rudd, and Irish hottie Aidan Gillen, and Dominic West from 'The Wire'), there's no one else I'd actually say yes to. He's my Claire Danes, if you will. Who's yours?

A recent post by our esteemed colleague Emily Gould noted some mail that we got to the effect that Claire Danes is weird and currently starring in a horrendous movie called Evening. No one is going to debate the quality of the movie (it earned a 26% on Rotten Tomatoes) but as for Claire Danes herself, well, she's our Masada and we'll die in her defense. "Hugh Dancy," the tipster notes, "is the younger cuter Billy Crudup. What is up with Claire Danes, she is a total sicko ... like how can you start dating someone who is the younger "cooler" British version of your old man boyfriend?" Well let's put it this way, Hugh Dancy may well be the younger "cooler" British version of Crudup but we're the even younger even "cooler" American version of Dancy. So keep on keeping on Danes. You're getting warmer, warmer, warmer, hot, hot, hot.

From our mailbag: "Dear Gawker, I recently had the displeasure of sitting through the snore fest that is "Evening" and wanted to share some thoughts with you. This movie was atrocious in every way ... there wasn't 1 minute of it that was enjoyable ... despite "the greatest actresses of our time" plodding through it. Despite it's grand themes of regret, loss and death, what I took away from the film was this ... Hugh Dancy is the younger cuter Billy Crudup. What is up with Claire Danes, she is a total sicko ... like how can you start dating someone who is the younger "cooler" British version of your old man boyfriend? Fucking weird and gross. I always knew Claire Danes was a weirdo but this is TOO much." Right? Seriously.

A couple of weeks ago, I didn't ask Claire Danes out and guess what? Much to my surprise, she said yes to my mind! Since then we haven't been dating, we've not gone shopping in Soho, didn't go to the Box, and recently didn't eat at Morandi where we did or did not play with a cute little Boxer. Sometimes Claire and I just don't go out to lunch together, picking up dosas at Hampton Chutney and not sitting on the steps of Equinox. We even pledged at the $10/month level in the recent WNYC fundraiser not together and I look forward to wearing our tote bags out, though on opposite arms—that way when we hold hands they won't annoyingly fall off our shoulders. That we're enjoying such a fulfilling not-relationship shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone. If you take a look at our Claire Danes Gawker Stalker archive, you'll see our offices are essentially in the epicenter of all Claire Danes sightings, which is to say: That we aren't dating was only inevitable.

Remember back when it was possible for people to simultaneously be famous and also seem genuinely cool? Hillary Frey, the new culture editor of the New York Observer, totally does. "An It Girl was out and about; she walked our streets, shared our parks, sat next to us at the International Bar on First Avenue. She was Chlo . Parker. Claire." Sadly, though, those ladies are all now successful in mainstream TV show and movies! (Also, Claire Danes and her English lover were sitting two feet away from Hillary Frey last Tuesday at the Old Town Bar, which is kind of funny.) Also, Our Girls are older and not as wild now. And a new crop of "It Girls" hasn't risen up to replace them, according to Hillary. Why? Oh, oops, it's our fault.

Lots of hand-wringing and executive-firing has been going on at the Gap lately, mostly because no one is buying their clothes. So like a week ago or something, they came out with a new TV ad which, we assume, is meant to herald the new era of Gap-ness. It's not growing on us! Poor Claire Danes had to wear those awful "Boyfriend" khakis, which just accentuate the fact that the girl—bless her heart!—has meatier thighs than the average Hollywood actress, and that Patrick Wilson, while hot, doesn't look like he's anyone of the female persuasion's boyfriend. And that music. GAH. It hurts our brains to hear it. Who did they focus group this one with, Faith Popcorn? That gal at the Cinnabon store in the Short Hills Mall? Oh right, they did.

Despite our considerate mapmaking labors, we've received few invitations to those "A-list" events. Lucky for us, we have some fairly well-connected people around our office, so at the invitation of Gridskipper editor Josh Stein, our Friday evening was spent at the release party for Topic, a completely non-pretentious publication at the completely non-sceney locale of The Beatrice Inn. In case you missed the memo, Topic magazine is

If you've ever wanted to paw through the real-estate records of prominent New Yorkers foolish enough to conduct business under their own names, here's your chance. Curbed points out that documents relating to the sale and ownership of co-op apartments — formerly a mysterious, private affair — have abruptly turned up online. Thrill to Jerry Seinfeld's actual signature on his UCC3 termination! No idea what that means, but with a little digging, you can match up real-world events with documentary parallels — as a tipster notes, here's the evidence of Billy Crudup paying off Mary-Louise Parker to the tune of $1,487,359.33 after ditching her for Claire Danes. Or perhaps you'd prefer to gaze lovingly on Ann Coulter's most recent mortgage? And of course, there's Jeffrey Epstein's West End pad (at least we think it's though sadly not "our" Jeffrey Epstein). Much more, but there are only so many hours in the day. Find anything else particularly interesting? Let us know.

Recently, our mailbox has been slightly cluttered with mailings from St. Martin's press about Galt Niederhoffer's forthcoming novel, A Taxonomy of Barnacles. To be released next Tuesday, it seems this book is some sort of precocious second coming. Entertainment Weekly describes it as "droll and sophisticated;" Booklist thinks it's "charming and sly;" Sam Lipsyte declares it "wise and witty." On the back of the book, however, rests the the icing on this hype-flavored cake:

We don't have the strength to find out exactly what Claire Danes was trying to say, but a quick scan of the story did reveal a fair amount of quotation marks, so it seems that her latest mode of expression was verbal. What a letdown! We're still waiting for an actress to finally answer the incisive "Are you exactly like/nothing like your character?" junket question with five minutes of interpretive dance.

Someone mentioned a couple of months ago that "Art Cooper and the Hilton Sisters" sounded like a nightclub act. On that note, from "10 New Indie-Rock Band Names Found in Cindy Adams' April 18 New York Post Column, 'Little-Known Facts, Well-Known Celebs'": Claire Danes' 3 A.M. Panic, Jennifer Aniston's Diet Sacrifice, Patricia Arquette's Slightly Buck Teeth. See also "10 New Hard-Core Band Names Found in Thomas Friedman's April 20 New York Times Column, 'The Third Bubble,'" (i.e., Will to Fight, Come to Threaten.)
Band names [Observer]

The NYT's Guy Trebay writes, "After years of bad gags about black being the new black, the streets are unexpectedly populated with people wearing trippy stripes, flowered graphics or clothes the colors of Bazooka or the walls of the playhouse where Pee-wee Herman held court." An unofficial poll indicates that this spring color trend hasn't reached the East Village yet. I see black, black, and more black. (Right, Claire Danes publicly demonstrating why Zac Posen is an overrated designer. I used to scribble on my mother's bedsheets, too, but I was five at the time.)
For Spring, color is the new black [NYT]