It was a strange scene last night at Sotheby’s, where a teenager in the front row of the salesroom bid on a lot while a dealer, who must have been 90, brought home at least two contested lots. Meanwhile, a pair of out-of-place, free-champagne-guzzling ladies were hopping into empty auction-room seats as quickly as the rightful ticketholders were able to evict them. It’s tempting to spin this into a metaphor for the night, in which a raft of young painters were still able to attract aggressive bidding, plenty of works by classic names sold for very high prices, and the kind of interested onlookers the art market is hoping to reengage remained a little lost. But maybe that’s too cute.