strike a match; After a sparkling New York engagement party, assorted romantics debate the virtues of playing Cupid.

Byline: William Norwich

Matters of the heart have become as problematic these days as attaining world peace. Finding a Saturday-night date is hard enough-let alone a soul mate.

But all was right in the world the other night at Carolyne Roehm's duplex apartment on Manhattan's East Side, remarkable for, among other appealing features, its double-height windows, iconic pilasters, abundance of roses and champagne, and tall Van Dyck portrait of a French aristocrat surveying some 120 guests, including Amanda Burden, Charlie Rose, and the artist Hope Atherton.

"I never had a daughter, so I have borrowed Minnie for a few hours to give this party for her," said Roehm, in

cocoa-colored Valentino trousers and top, toasting her guests of honor, pretty Minnie Mortimer of New York and screenwriter and director Stephen Gaghan of Paris and Malibu. Recently engaged, they will be married this spring at Saint Thomas Church on Fifth Avenue, where the bride-to-be's grandparents Katherine and Stanley Mortimer were also wed, in 1911.

How the couple clicked gives hope to anyone looking for love. Although the setting was a mite exceptional-it was the Academy Awards picnic Diane von Furstenberg and Barry Diller organize at home in Los Angeles-they were just two young people looking across a crowded room, I mean lawn, working up the nerve to talk. He broke the ice by asking her if she was going to the Oscars. "No, of course not," replied Minnie, a New York girl-about-town whose sphere is more photography than film. "Are you?"

For the uninitiated (and that used to include Minnie), Stephen Gaghan's credits include