Mon dieu, those after-parties can leave a female with quite the hangover!
Not to mention strangers in the bed, but I got rid of them with dispatch.
Because I was bound and determined to get to the Miss Sixty show, so I could at least smell Clive Owen. It was all the way down on the Bowery! Demi Moore, she of the liposuctioned knees, was there as well.
I left early to make the Bill Blass show at the New York Library. That was a mistake. Last fall the library was a wintery cavern, but this morning, because of the weather, the lights and the cameras, it was a bit stuffy. Like many of the attendees. I wore a light and airy maxi-dress from the mid-1970s, in yellow, to match the large Toblerone I was carrying.
Micheal Vollbracht has left Bill Blass, and so three ‘interim’ designers did the show. Thank goodness they are ‘interim,’ because the term ‘plagiarists’ would have suited them far better. Prabal Gurung, Ana Carolina Coelho, and Tyler Rose claimed to have gone into the designer’s archives and been inspired.
But the collection reminded moi of nothing so much as our great nation’s Internet flea market, Ebay. Really, doesn’t this look like every other strapless bridal gown out there today?
And although much of Ebay’s Vintage collection is outstanding (including, of course, mine), there are dozens of variations on what is called 'the secretary dress.'
In fact, many, many of the dresses at the library I saw could be found on Ebay, some of them by Bill Blass himself. However, one cannot imagine many of the socialites in attendance knowing enough about how to use a computer to actually take a look for themselves. So you will have to trust me on this.
The Badgley Mischka show in the Tent was far more satisfying, but then, evening gowns do something to a woman. To this woman, at any rate. And there were a plethora of evening gowns, many almost stupefyingly delightful.
Apparently the actress Teri Hatcher is the pair's muse. (Although this frock would look far better on moi--I have some flesh on my bones, and I don't dye my skin.)
She was in attendance, in a silver dress and spray-on tan. As was Kenneth Cole, Ivana Trump once again with her young charge, and many others of Ivana's social set. At times when they applauded, their jewelry rattled louder than their palms.
The funny hat factor was limited to a few huge floppy straws that bounced as the models strutted down the runway. Having changed my outfit between shows, I changed my sweets as well. As is my wont, I sat in the front row, munching on a large box of Godiva chocolates. (I always love the looks on the models’ faces when they first smell the chocolate—it reminds me of Bucky when he smells a far-away fire hydrant redolent of other dogs. Yearning, don’t you know.)
More later, mes enfants—it’s back to the limo and into another outfit! Dear me, I am getting quite the sugar buzz.
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
Ms. Sarafpour must have stopped taking her Zoloft, that’s my opinion. Or she did all of her designing in a very dark room lit by a candle, with the wind howling outside. Actually, that was also the atmosphere at the show, and it had the intended effect. I ate my entire Toblerone.
