Dabbling in fashion week

After Sarah and I bombed around town last Thursday night, attempting some fashion week parties and were shut out of one because I didn’t rsvp, got kicked out of another after being granted access because, well, I don’t know why (pas assez chic?), and then entered the final one after being pushed around by the bouncers and jostled by the riff-raff, only to walk out within two minutes because it was so sadly, incredibly lame, well, I figured my foray into fashion week nightlife was over. But, earnest troopers that we are, we stopped by another party last night and, I have to say, it was pas mal!

It was for a trio of designers—shoe designer Raphael Young and Louise Goldin and Frank Tell—and it drew a fashionable crowd.


At least my definition of a fashionable crowd. It wasn’t so much about wearing certain labels as it was flaunting personal style: hair and makeup, tailoring, accessories were all brilliant.


(I mean, look at 'em!)

And the music was super. As I hovered by the DJ, waiting to ask when and where I might see him again, Sarah shoed me away. It was the Misshapes. Apparently I was supposed to know who they are. All the cool kids do. And now you do, too. Total attitude, but totally fabulous.

Great crowd, great fashion, great music, and too much champagne.

But that’s the way life goes, right? When you think the party’s gonna rock, it’s horrible. And when you show up straight from work with weary skin and dirty jeans, it’s all kinds of good.