The CFDA awards were held on Monday night and I was high as a kite. Not on drugs mind you but with excitement. Four of my friends were nominated and I knew at least one of them would win.
Fay was my date and we got dolled up for the occasion, me in my tux and black straw hat, her in a Chloe jumper and purple Prada heels. We were both drenched in Subversive Jewelry to champion our dear friend Justin.
Because of a huge project I have been working on for American Express lately I have been a massive ball of stress and a total space cadet. I totally lost the invite and had no idea what time to arrive. I knew the big event started at 6pm but since I don’t have $4000 to throw down for a dinner ticket, I bought one for $250 to be in the lounge and watch the main event on a large screen.
I called a couple of people and got the general consensus that we were to arrive at 730. So I meet Fay at her pad at 6 and we call a car at 7 after a cocktail or two.
We arrive at the New York Public Library with the red carpet in full swing and Betsey Johnson is next to us and tells us both how great we look. She is always such a positive vibe in a crowd.
We walked the carpet, arrived at the check in table and I told them my name. They searched and searched and apologized for not having me on the list. Then I told them I was there to sit at the ‘kiddie table’ and they said, “Oh dear, that doesn’t start for an hour.”
Balderdash.
Bonnie suggested we just pop around the corner and have some champagne at the Bryant Park Grill but once I walked down a couple of steps I realized the entire area was gated off. We would have to do the walk of shame back down the red carpet to leave. That ain’t happening luv. So we teeter about and smoke a lot of cigarettes to make it look like we meant to be standing outside while everyone else was laughing and drinking indoors. Luckily there were loads of people joining us since it was boiling inside. We had Marc Jacobs and his posse on one side, Chloe Sevigny and her crowd on the other and Justin and Paul kept coming out to chat as well.
After 20 minutes uncle Cator had to take a wiz and Fay was parched. What to do? We explained our conundrum to all of our boys at KCD and they said there wasn’t really anyplace to go if we went inside since the dinner was of course seated. Hmmm. Well the crowd died down, we were torn what to do, and then we looked at each other, said “Fuck It” and gracefully walked inside and directly to the bathrooms.We felt so Bonnie and Clyde! Renegades! Who is going to stop us? Well nobody. They were too busy getting final shots and converting the main hall into a colorful lounge where we would be social-liting later.
We simply stood on the sidelines and watched it all unfold. It was like being on one of those home redecorating shows.
We heard a buzz at the front door and P.Diddy waltzed in with his crew. Angela from The Daily swooped in for a quote or two. Then the entire Lauren family busted in and finally Oprah her self graced us with her presence. The arc of fashionably lates had arrived. After nearly kicking it over an electrical wire,
Oprah paused for a moment, looked me up and down and said, “Cool” Fay about busted out laughing with excitement. She looked stunning I must say. She is a real beauty and has an air of calm and cool and apparently she has good taste.
Once the sofas were set and the candles lit, Fay and I plopped down in the best sofa and chatted with Lisa Marsh and Ben Widdicombe. The room quickly began to fill up Fay and I made one rule, we would not go to the bar for champagne, it had to come to us. We thought we were so good and that it would take hours to get tipsy, but damn those cute servers kept coming by with new glasses for us!
We chatted with Kate Schelter, Magda Berliner, Tom from Frame Noir and Evan Fox, Tim Hamilton’s best friend. We were all glued to the awards on the screen and the movie montages of Carrie Donovan and Diana Vreeland about brought tears to my eyes. It is true that no matter how old I am or how long I am in this business it still ‘gets’ me.
The winners began to be announced and Fay and I held hands and were silent through them all until they got to accessories designers. We knew Justin had it in the bag. I mean the Olsen twins were at his place that afternoon picking pieces out to wear and they were announcing the winner! They open the envelope and we heard a ‘J’ but it was a ‘J’ for Jessie Randall for Loeffler Randall and not Justin. We were speechless. We head outside and people are patting us on the back. They knew. Even sweet Brian Coates from GQ gave us a little pep talk.
Alas, the texting to friends began and we decided the party had gone from sizzle to fizzle. We wanted to be with out friends so we headed out and found our car. I heard we didn’t miss a thing as the ceremony dragged on and neither Tim nor Duckie Brown had won. Boo.
In honor of Justin I had arranged a small get together at Smith & Mills, the new bar owned by Matthew of Beatrice fame. We all met down in Tribeca and Justin & Paul soon joined us. Matthew bought us a bottle of Veuve and we all celebrated the true champion of the night. We continued onto the Beatrice till the wee hours dancing, drinking and spending time with our little loving fashion family.
