Take it with a grain of salt from a jaded old editor, but Fashion’s Night Out was actually really, really awesome and fun. I say that because no one really knew what to expect, and plenty of fashion editors were downright down on the whole thing. Maybe it’s because industry insiders are so used to being exclusive and it’s all about getting on the right list to closed-to-the-”commoners” events. So FNO, which involved all these stores throwing swishy parties that were no RSVP-required, seemed vaguely threatening somehow. Let everyone in? How’s that gonna work?
The answer is it worked like a charm. In fact, it may have been the best party of Fashion Week. Did I mention there was lots of free champagne?Celebrities (and they were everywhere), did not get mobbed. The fact that non-fashion editors were actually invited did not “ruin it for everyone,” as some snooty types feared. Maybe it was because it was the eve of September 11th, but last night in NYC people came together in a really amazing way and it was actually pretty cool. Here is the story of all the mini-adventures that I, Amelia, and a posse of chicks (hey, we roll deep) experienced in downtown Manhattan last night. It was totally like a “Sex and the City” episode! Just kidding.
We began our night innocently enough at the MAC store where style icon Janelle Monae was on hand to sign CDs and I was lucky enough to chat her up. She is gorgeous and incredibly tiny in person. She was rocking her signature pompadour hairdo and a snappy little suit with a bow tie and we were all really hearting her black and white wingtips. How long does it take her to do her hair in the morning? “I just have a machine that I walk into and it takes 30 seconds,” she said point blank. Wow! Magic hairdo machine. I want one of those. Also, please do not refer to her hair as a pompadour. She would prefer you call it a “Monae.” So. There were Cokes and Perrier to drink but we were getting thirsty for something stronger so after touching up our faces at their makeup stands, we bailed.
Next we encountered a Rachel Roy ice cream truck (RAD) and dashed inside to check out her new collection (it’s fab and not crazy, crazy expensive) and finally got our champers on. And who else but the divine miss Lady Bunny was spinning her heart out and dancing away? Amelia spotted “P-Run” alum Malvin and they were like totally smitten kittens with one another. We basically had to wrestle her away from him but not before he gifted her some wallet he got in a goodie bag. Score!
My friend Erin (yes, also Erin) suggested we go “cause a ruckus in Chanel” and we did just that–well, if you count dousing ourselves in perfume at their fragrance bar as causing a ruckus–however we couldn’t bear to wait for the free manis being offered. (Although to be fair, the line wasn’t actually that long.) We chugged more champagne and moved along.
Burberry was interesting: Lily Donaldson, the supes model, was supposedly spinning, but she just looked like she was dancing around to us. Plus there were no turntables. Suspicious. More champagne and some much needed crudites. Next!
Would you believe me for a second if I told you that at Prada there were huge tubs of mini Budweisers on ice and that dudes were shotgunning them? If you don’t, my friend Abby from Fashionista.com was with us and Twittering her heart out so you can check out the proof here. Anyhoo, I don’t know what Miuccia would think, but I personally never thought I’d see the day.
We stopped by Costume National and were shocked to see that there actually was a list. What!? We thought that kind of went against the point. Still, we talked our way in only to find that it was totally dullsville and dead in there. See? That’s what you get for trying to keep the riffraff out on Fashion’s Night Out!
We huffed it over to the Vogue alumni house and caught up with super pretty and sweet Wren designer and old chum Melissa Coker. And, of course, we ran into another old pal, Todd Selby whom you may of heard of. The open bar was closed by this point, but, luckily, we had a couple extra baby Buds we lifted from Prada to keep ourselves from getting too parched. Amelia spotted Rachel Zoe‘s assistants and snapped a pic for Catherine, who is a huge fan. We wanted to hit Rogan across the street, but it was packed in there and we weren’t in the mood for that level of sh*t show. I sort of lamely asked if anyone would please walk over the Williamsburg Bridge with me to go to the Vena Cava block party, but as it got increasingly windier out, the threat of rain ever looming, I should have known that plan was a tad too ambitious. Instead, we headed over to the East Village and had a nice beer-y nightcap. There were a bunch of firefighters there celebrating someone’s promotion. We chatted away with them and tried to explain FNO, but they totally had no idea what we were talking about.