Before I write about any more of the shows, I must tell you about last night (well, some parts of last night). My assistant was missing when I came in this evening, it's quite annoying. She was supposed to lay out my ensembles for tomorrow! She's been in a royal sulk since I informed her she was far too low-class to be seen out and about with me at Bryant Park.
But enough about my domestic troubles. After the shows, it was off to the party of parties, the grand event, the 40th anniversary of Calvin Klein!Of course I had to change in the limo, but I'm an expert at that by now. It was into, of course, a vintage Calvin long chiffon gown (you thought I would wear his vintage jeans? Quel stupide!). This gala event was exactly what your faithful correspondent needed to soothe her jangled senses. Fortunately, I was able to avoid Vincent Gallo. Don't ask me why, but I wonder why he is allowed to live.
The party was held at the High Line, three stories high on 10th Avenue, where I'm told some railroad or something used to be. There were white roses and Calvin Klein adverts everywhere, overwhelming the senses. (And the nostrils.) Our host was the sensational Francisco Costa (I might replace Andre with Francisco, if he is willing!).
If you had laid every celebrity and fashion maven end to end...you would have had what the party looked like by the time it broke up. Here's a glass of champagne to you, mon bien-aimé lecteurs, I only wish you could have been there with me.
Or maybe not.
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
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