Two weeks ago, we patted ourselves on the back for making it through yet another grueling Fashion Week, and swore we’d never, ever go to another pretentious clusterfuck where people are only there to be “seen” and everyone has that glassy-eyed “I’m looking for someone more important to talk to” stare.* Unfortunately, that’s pretty much exactly how we would describe last night’s New York magazine’s Look Book party.
The shindig (thrown on the fifth floor of Bergdorf Goodman’s) featured an open bar, miniature black-and-white cookies and the worst hair we’ve seen since 1985. Although the invitation specifically said that an RSVP was required, some people came that, like, did not RSVP. Fortunately for those people, there weren’t any bitchy-looking girls with clipboards or refrigerator-sized bouncers, so the “exclusive” event quickly devolved into a bacchanalian free-for-all.**
However, despite the overabundance of snotty emaciated people refusing to eat hors d’oeuvres, not everyone was convinced of the event’s ultimate success.
“It’s not a party until Ben Widdicombe shows up,” opined our new friend (and fellow party-goer) who also works for AdAge. Sadly, however, the seven-foot tall Aussie was nowhere in sight, so we continued to stuff our faces with miniature pretzels, guzzle down cheap wine and make fun of the other guests…like the guy with the giant afro, the goth chick who spent $300 on satanic accessories to prove she totally doesn’t give a shit and the woman who was wearing a coral-colored headband, which doesn’t sound that weird in and of itself except for the fact that it wasn’t on her head so much as draped awkwardly across her forehead. (OMG, LC would so not approve!)
Meanwhile, we fended off the advances of an entrepreneurial “PR” person who told us he was “representing himself,” and then learned — but promptly forgot — the correct pronunciation of the phrase “Emmaus, Pennsylvania” from a dapper gent who does gadgety things for Men’s Health and, coincidentally, went to the same trashy Columbia bars that we did.
After several more drinks, however, our closest party companion avowed she could no longer endure another minute in her fashionable-but-highly-impractical pointy toed shoes and politely “suggested” we take our leave. We hesitated, feeling somehow that we hadn’t yet seen everything we’d come to see. And it was at that exact moment that we saw him. Like a desert camel floating above the sands, he glided swiftly through the crowds. It was, of course, Ben Widdicombe, he who is responsible for a tawdry daily gossip column, the return of the ubiquitous black blazer and —according to some— the ultimate measure of success (or failure) of an overcrowded magazine party.
Satisfied at last, we promptly turned and left.
*At least, not until next year.
**And speaking of “free,” it is perhaps worth noting that neither invited nor uninvited guests scored complimentary copies of the infamous Look Book, our ostensible reason for being there. Strange, no?
Oh– U didn find me there– I was the one with Big Oragnge Jacket with Afro hair Japanese guy who’s picture was on the Mirror wall(I cannot spell shit) showed up around 9 pm without the hair (cause i got hair cut last December), and this book happen to have many ppl that i met after the magazine issued(more than 2 years ago) like the guy with the giant afro, so probably i was drunk as hell and recording the whole thing by my own video camera by beyonce’s choreogrpher, OMG, i was so drunk. We ended up on 7 floor, i was so lost.I don drink, i buy jackets, u know.
So no one found me there hopefully,,,,
anyway, i don even know where im actually posting this at, I hope its not major website or something else.
But this party, i was just like, OMG, i didn know that they gonna put that many picture of me there, and Yes! i wanna get the Mirror thing. The biig Mirror,,, of my pic with my old hair…… i miss my hair——
Posted: Sep 22, 2007 at 5:35 am