Monday, February 26, 2007
Something happened to me when I turned 30 last May 3.
Not sure what it was but something clicked.
I was ready to not only be grown up but also quite possibly act it.
My family has always said I was a 45-year-old living in a 12 year olds body back 1988.
I was fascinated with the French Revolution, family history and classical music (ok, Phantom and Les Miz too).
So maybe in the past couple of years (ok, 10 years) I have been partying like mad because I missed out as a youth.
Sure I was doing loads of naughty things at raves in 1994 in Atlanta, but moving to NYC is a whole other batch of marbles.
These kids definitely gallop with loose reigns.
But recently I have had nary the desire to hear a new DJ, watch Cazwell rap or stare at Amanda Lepore in amazement. It all just lost its luster. I guess it also has to do with the opening of the Beatrice Inn. This spot is my dream of all dreams of what a bar should be. So classy, low ceilings, bartenders in ties, a fireplace nook and the sweetest hosts. Well, for some reason the doorman never lets my dates in, but hey, when you are in trainers is that my fault? It is filled with 30+ ladies and gentleman who can swing dance, twist, boogie or just plain plop on a bar stool and talk till 5am.
The point is this. I went out to Don Hills last Saturday and felt so out of place! I think the Misshapes were playing, whom I detest. I thought there was some David Lachapelle party there that night so I took a mob of friends but I later found out that party was at the Box. Luckily my dear daddy of a friend Thomas Onorato was at the door and comp'd us all.
I was in YSL, Price was in Lanvin, Salman in Brooks Brothers tux and Fay and Deepak in Opening Ceremony. We looked pretty swank and we walk into a mass of American Apparel, trainers, leggings and glitter (which I will never stop loving).
The music was early 90's rave and techno that we had all been through and were not really ready to hear again.
I saw some people I knew but most must of been 18 and up. We all just stood in the middle of the bar, took a deep breath and said- what the hell are we doing here? But it was too cold to move on so what else to do? Shots! That helped make that Daft Punk song sounds a bit better and then Justin, Paul and Anna showed up and were already gonzo so they lifted the mood.
Don’t get me wrong - we had fun and it was a nice change from the Beatrice but it really made me realize this is just no longer my scene! I want to dress up not in eyeliner but in suits. I want to listen to a remix of Nina Simone more than a techno mash up. But don’t think for a minute I’m calling nightlife quits! Ill still have dinner parties that last till sun rise, boogie at the Beatrice till the liquor runs dry and occasionally pass out on a mystery mattress but I think Club Kid Cator may be laid to rest, for now….
Sunday, February 11, 2007
The last day of Fashion Week. Hoorah! Don't get me wrong, I adore this week but it is draining to the max.
I caught Charles Nolan in the tents and then Costello Taglia-something. Charles is always pretty and fun since he has his family in the audience and on the runway. Costello I didn’t get. How can two men who are so large make clothes that make a size 0 look fat? Last years collection was so Love Boat and drapey, flowey, yummy. This season was so tight I could see bones. But secretly, if you are a size 0- wear it! They are hot skinny gal clothes, bones and all! Hello Nicole Richie!
I then waved goodbye to the tents and headed down to 28th for drinks with Justin and Paul before Fay's birthday dinner.
The poor gal is sick as a dog after over a week of fetes. But she is a trooper and not missing out on a birthday night. Justin and Paul are just getting over illness as well so I came well equipped with loads of gummy Airborne's thanks to the Florence Nightingale of the CFDA, Lisa Smilor who has been taking them to prevent 'air kiss cough'.
We headed down to Houston between Mott and Mulberry where Fay had taken over a backroom of a delightful little Italian restaurant called Emilios Ballato. The veal was divine! We ate, drank, fawned over Fay and hit the welcome back party for my lovely friend Waris. Hosted by the newly famous and fabulous Elisabeta and Nicolae Petrescu and Trovata, the event was the best party of the entire week- sorry Beatrice! Read why here:
The penthouse was amazing and loads of fun people were there including Faran from www.fashionista.com, saucy lady Kate Schelter and a wilding out Kelly Cutrone who was thrilled to be done with fashion week. We danced up a storm and giggled about God knows. Waris was welcoming as always, freshly off the plane from India where he was filming Wes Anderson’s next adventure, which takes place on a train. You know uncle Cator loves a good train ride so I look forward to seeing this one. I also look forward to seeing the jewelry that I'm sure he crafted while in India. Waris, if I ever get married, you have to make my bands! www.houseofwaris.com
I made a dip into the tub sans gin and our crew found a small bedroom where we closed the doors and had our own dance party. Darling Fay nearly passed out from being so poorly all day so dutiful Deepak took her home and the rest of us headed to nether regions of New York.
The perfect ending to another Fabulous and Flagellant Fashion Week.
Another great group of my bon amies, Loden Dager, had a lovely presentation in a Chelsea art gallery on Saturday night.
First off, the day in clothes was a good one on the whole. Ruffian showed at the club and although some of it didn't make sense to me, there were some stellar pieces. Ruffles from Ruffian can't be beat.
Buckler was faggy and frivolous. I don’t get that line a bit. Atil has seen better days but some of the textiles were quite yummy for drapes or lampshades.
James Aguilar and I chatted a bunch and figured out some of those D-list people who crawl about the tents in silly outfits and call themselves stylist. One's name is Prince William the III and he is from Ghana and the other was named something like Geepak from Nepal. Geepak is the older man we all know for wearing animal print suits and matching newsboy hats.
Later that night I headed over to Chelsea to see Paul (pictured), Alex and Matthew present Loden Dager. The line is always spot on for 'boys who like books', although apparently the line has expanded to include lady-men since there was a pile of lesbians perusing the line and several of the models were quite gender bending. THANK YOU boys! Always keeping us on our toes. Fresh.
Afterwards I had a divine Indian dinner and some downtime before heading to Ben Widdicombe's for Mark Ellwood’s 13th celebration of his 21st birthday. It's always a bit like a homecoming at Ben's with the same editors, PR people and lovers of pigs and blankets. The joint may be filled with loads of industry people but not a lick of work is discussed. Heaven. Afterwards Reinaldo and I skipped out over to Justin's house for more chatting in a low-key setting. Chatting continued until 2am when the liquor ran dry and we couldn’t find a bootlegger so we called it a night.
Moving over to Tuesday I adored Luca Luca. Take note ladies! The looks are so clean, well cut and playful. Does playful sound dainty like Marsha Brady? I mean playful like martinis and skiing in Gstaad. Doo Ri was elegant although some people thought it was a played out collection. Too much draping. A bit Balenciaga. But I loved the mini trench that opened the show.
I ditchedc Heatherette for dinner at Il Cantinori in honor of Jamie Drake's 50th birthday. Thank God I missed it too. I’m not a huge fan of Richie after the horrible was he treated his ex-roommate and my close friend Matt Bell. And I don't know one person who has a good thing to say about him so just as well. I heard his show was a disaster anyhow.
Dinner was great fun and I got to see and meet some great people. Mary Jane always sends me to the moon and well heeled Ruthy and I had some catching up to do. I nearly coaxed her out to the Beatrice with me but she stayed put like a good hostess should. Next time dear Ruth...
The highlight of dinner was Jamie's gift from Mayor Bloomberg- a proclamation that February 6th is Jamie Drake Day!
A dashed out of dinner around 11 and headed to the Beatrice for the Purple Magazine party. It was chaos at the door but such fun once I made it inside. Alexis was taking pictures for the magazine and either his batteries died or his flash didn’t work but he took over my camera for the evening and shot the canoodling crowd. Around 3 I flew up the stairs and into a cab, cape and hat in hand. Bon Nuit Beatrice!
Thursday and Friday nights were sizzling Uptown with Tim Hamilton’s fall presentation at Bergdorf's and Sophia Kokosalaki's presentation of Vionnet at Barneys.
I met Tim through www.Gayzofourlives.com founder, Sam Spector. He is a total sweetheart and a genius in the tailoring department. Handsome clothes for handsome men period. http://timhamilton.ws/
I am so proud of his rapid rise to fame with his own collection. My neighbor, Lucy Lang was my date and we hung out with Martin Mark's and Tim's w-i-l-d sister. The clothes we beautiful, the models were yummy and that white wine really hit the spot! Martin almost dragged us to the Pierre for drinks but Lucy and I were good and packed ourselves into a cab to Harlem. We were so proud of ourselves for resisting temptation that we promptly popped a bottle of wine and drank and danced around my new home office, inaugurating the walls, floor and window ledges with wine rings.
Friday was a full day of shows, mostly disappointing. John Bartlett was fun but he has done better. I thought it a bit tame but I will never see anything like his lumberjack chic 3 seasons ago with wood chip catwalk with hunky, hairy men stomping up and down. Swoon!
Perry Ellis was ok. Loved the fuller pants. Duckie Brown- BRAVO! Those boys always give me goose bumps with their love of undies with pockets, neon gloves and oversized outerwear
Morphine Generation was quite fun but as usual; the womenswear was better than mens. Mens just looked like kit from Trash and Vaudeville.
I skipped Marc Bouwer for cocktails with Fay and a head start up to Barneys for Vionnet.
There we met up with Ivana, my editor from Clear and Ivan, my new favorite boy whose blog- www.facehunter.blogspot.com is inspiring beyond belief. Kids still dress with panache in Poland, incroyable in Iceland and bombastic in Belgium! He chronicles all the hipster fashion worldwide.
Lots of familiar faces were peeping out behind Vionnet bias cut gowns including Susan Joy with Vogue's Christian Langbein, Simon Doonan, Hamish Bowles, Anna Laub from WGSN (my new gorgeous gal about town from London) and Lee Carter. We all got way too giddy and imbibed way too much Veuve and once the party wrapped up we headed over to Viand where we ordered gallons of chocolate milkshakes, mounds of beef burgers and piles of French fries. Who says fashion people don’t eat? Balderdash!
Once we were done there I had to meet friend from Cologne at the Dream Hotel, then we moved it to the Algonquin for martini's until midnight and then OF COURSE I was coerced to take them to the Beatrice where we danced until God knows when, but what fun!
Oh my poor body, an entire week to go. I think I can, I think I can
The boys over at Mao PR have been kicking off Fashion Week for several years now with a party to launch their semi annual magazine full of interviews and images of Fashion Royalty from yesteryear and beyond.
The party was such a chic treat in the early years when it was held at the Morgan but recent fetes have, for me, been a flop. Too big, too many people, too much going on (although sipping champagne with Mamie Van Doren was pretty spectacular three seasons ago).
This year the bash was held in a newish venue on Beaver Street. The space must be from the 1930's with soaring mosaic columns and grand entrance. It seemed like a large space but compared to other years at mega clubs the vibe felt quaint.
BOB held court onstage until Kendra from Karen Black performed (or pranced around in body paint with a nubile fry gal by her side).
All the freaks came out whom I really don’t see to much anymore. My New Years resolution was to stop going out so much and besides fashion week, I have been fairly good about it. Amber Ray was a vision of Gothic Cockatoo; June ditched her trademark platinum wig for rainbow of locks obviously snatched from the wig room of Miss Understood.
I spent quite some time in the corner with the handsome David from Nasty Pig. I could talk bondage with him for ages. So ethereal! Not really but why not speak about such things with an expert? (www.nastypig.com) Then Shania Rendezvous crept in, snapped this picture and bolted to cause scandal somewhere else.
I was thrilled to see Mary Gehlhar out and about! Since having adorable lil All-Star, she has been mommie dearest but tonight she left the tot at home and mingles with the masses who have missed her for so long. Welcome back Mary!
(note: Patty McWagon loves seeing Mary because when he calls out her name, 10 gay men turn around)
Matt Bell, new to Mao, old friend to me, was totally in his element chatting up everyone and playing the perfect host. How long would this last during fashion week? Well it lasted until the Jason Wu show when I saw him play with his headset perfectly to ignore a screaming faux stylist who swore she was best friends with his boss. Well done Matt!
After several hours and several vats of vodka Fay, Deepak, Reinaldo and a bevy of artists fled the scene and headed to the Beatrice. There we had quite cocktails around 10:30 with Matthew and the bartenders before the hurricane known as Yanna blew in with uber stylist, Patti Wilson. We had a load of fun and danced till the wee hours apparently with an 'America's next top model' and a load of other Beatrice beats.
Thanks Mao for a splendid kick off to a glorious/torturous week....