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Crowe and Co. Take Cannes
There had been murmurings that this year’s Cannes Film Festival wouldn’t be quite as glamorous as it has been in its previous 62 incarnations: Some were worried about that pesky volcano up in Iceland, others predicted nasty weather, and still more were concerned that Karl Lagerfeld stole the show with his ultra-glam Chanel Resort extravaganza in nearby Saint-Tropez. But all that talk was put to rest last night when the festival officially began with the premiere of Robin Hood. Joining the film’s stars Russell Crowe and an Alexander McQueen-clad Cate Blanchett on the red carpet were fellow boldfacers like Salma Hayek, Cannes juror Kate Beckinsale, and jury president Tim Burton, whose appearance was accompanied by a montage of his movies.
Blanchett addressed the crowds in perfect French, much to their delight. “It’s a grand pleasure to be here,” she said, “especially with a film from the incomparable Ridley Scott.” (Sadly, the director couldn’t be at the premiere; he’s recovering from knee surgery back home in the States.) Crowe, meanwhile, stuck to his native tongue. “Ridley wanted me to tell everyone how much of an honor it was to open the festival,” he announced in his trademark Australian drawl, also admitting, “I need to brush up on my French.”
—Derek Blasberg Continue reading
Sunglasses at Night
Decades ago, the likes of Lou Reed helped make Ray-Ban aviators the downtown rebel’s (and many other people’s) eyewear of choice. Last night, the brand embraced its rock roots with a concert headlined by the original Real Wild Child, Iggy Pop.
A chance to see the Stooges front man perform—for free, no less—is no small thing, and so plenty of acolytes made the trip over to the Music Hall of Williamsburg with time to spare, Lindsay Lohan, Kate Bosworth, and Kelly Osbourne included. This being a corporate gig, however, some were wondering if Iggy would truly bring it. “The last time I saw him, everybody from the second floor was pouring pitchers of beer on him,” recalled jewelry designer Eddie Borgo. That’s setting the bar pretty high. But when the headliner strutted out amid slashing guitars and tore his shirt off and flipped the audience the bird, he removed most everyone’s doubts.
Before long, Jessica Stam was peeling off her layers. A few feet away from her on an upstairs balcony, Juliette Lewis was whooping. Perfectly positioned to drizzle beer down onto the stage, Agyness Deyn was busy dancing, while below her, Iggy sweated, shouted, flopped onto the front row a few times, and at one point hauled as many crazed fans as he could onto the stage with him. How does the 63-year-old punk pioneer still do it? Photographer Mick Rock, who’s been around the block with him enough to have some insight, might have had the definitive answer: “He’s, like, a freak.”
—Darrell Hartman Continue reading
Spring Awakening
Early on last night at the Lincoln Center Institute’s Junior Spring Benefit, all the pieces seemed to be in place for a charity rager. At least one guest had called in a “doctor’s appointment” for the next morning, and the venue—the Hudson Hotel, which co-sponsored the event with Valentino—was supplying extra-large Champagne flutes. “They want to get us waaasted!” reckoned Nina Freudenberger.
But the interior designer and most of the other committee members kept it together, if only because seemingly every other one of them needed to be stage-ready the next day. Zoe Kazan, currently starring in A Behanding in Spokane, was cuddled up on a couch with her boyfriend, Paul Dano; a seat over were Mamie Gummer and her fiancé, Benjamin Walker, who’s playing the lead in Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson. And if you’re Lily Rabe, who’s currently in rehearsals with Al Pacino for the Shakespeare in the Park production of The Merchant of Venice, you probably don’t want to be battling a hangover at work.
Proceeds from the first-time event benefit the educational arm of Lincoln Center, which nurtures the sort of creativity Rabe and most of her fellow ticket-sellers (including designer Lyn Devon and photographer Frances Tulk-Hart) have been fortunate enough to cultivate more or less on their own. “As someone who struggled with math and science, I’m grateful for the arts education I had,” noted Rabe, who majored in theater at Northwestern. Doubtless Whitney Port and Lindsay Lohan, also in attendance, would have echoed that sentiment.
—Darrell Hartman Continue reading
Let the Games Begin
The town of Saint-Tropez has been a Riviera destination for Karl Lagerfeld for several years now. “More than I care to say,” he told us Monday night after a screening of his latest short film, Remember Now. Starring Elisa Sednaoui, Leigh Lezark, Heidi Mount, and Pascal Greggory, the flick glorifies the 24-hour revelry in this coastal playground for the rich and grandiose—revelry that the house of Chanel is temporarily orchestrating. The screening was just part of the festivities leading up to the French label’s resort show, which takes place tonight. The second phase of the opening night was an exciting game of bocce (don’t worry: I didn’t know what that was, either, but turns out it’s pretty similar to the game of washers or horseshoes, which this reporter played back home in St. Louis—perhaps the only similarity between Saint cities Louis and Tropez).
People weren’t messing around: “I want that trophy,” Diane Kruger cooed to boyfriend Joshua Jackson, who promptly got on the case, pep-talking his team and organizing the duels. Poor Vanessa Paradis didn’t stand a chance. “C’est impossible,” she cried out to the photographers, who would launch an explosion of flashes every time she tried to hurl down her bocces. In the championship games, which took place after a buffet dinner at Le Café on the Place des Lices, Lagerfeld himself presided over the proceedings, which turned out to be a three-way showdown between the Italians, the French, and the Americans. As it happened, Lagerfeld’s current man-muse, Baptiste Giabiconi, was rather good at the bocce. His final shot tipped the French to win the big title, a feat that apparently impressed his boss. I left at 2 a.m., a little tipsy and a lot jet-lagged—but the Kaiser was still there, between Amanda Harlech and his boys.
—Derek Blasberg Continue reading
On Top Down Under
—Tommy Ton Continue reading
West Side Story
The Whitney went downtown for its annual American Art Award Gala, which meant more open collars than usual and extra talk of the future. The dinner took place, after all, on part of the plot in the Meatpacking District that the museum hopes someday to turn into a 200,000-square-foot southern branch.
The evening raised a total of $1.6 million. With an estimated budget of $680 million for the new outpost, the museum that gave Jasper Johns and Cindy Sherman their first retrospectives has a ways to go. But it’s also got friends in the right places—including Diane von Furstenberg, who hosted the cocktail hour at her studio up the street. Having thrown events there five nights in a row, the designer said she’s finally letting the space go dark for a while: “Thank God!”
From there, the group—which included Larry Gagosian and John McEnroe—migrated two blocks south to the dinner tent, which had been outfitted for the occasion with colorful hanging panels by the artists Wade Guyton and Kelley Walker. “This feels like a school trip,” mused Alice St. Clair Erskine. (Well, a school trip with Anh Duong, Caroline Winberg, and Shala Monroque.) Ever the student, Lady Alice was sporting her grandfather’s Eton waistcoat; she’d even turned down an invite to Monday’s Met ball to practice line readings for an upcoming audition.
During dinner, Alex von Furstenberg accepted the evening’s big award on behalf of the Diller—von Furstenberg Family Foundation, which has helped the museum get a foothold in the neighborhood. Lou Reed performed. Whitney director Adam D. Weinberg said goodbye to the tent: “I hope you’ll be here when the circus leaves and the art comes back.” And then another major player in this developing West Side story, André Balazs, led the way to the top of the Standard.
—Darrell Hartman Continue reading
City of Angels?
Los Angeles, home of the up-skirt photo op, countless starlet meltdowns, and at least three of Tiger Woods’ alleged mistresses, could stand to use a lesson in all things ladylike. In flew Derek Blasberg to oblige. Last night, the Style.com editor at large and his cheeky new self-help guide, Classy: Exceptional Advice for the Extremely Modern Lady, were toasted by friends and fans at the super-sleek Missoni store that just opened in Beverly Hills. “I feel honored and grateful and all those adjectives,” said Blasberg, between autographing a fan’s book and greeting pals like Olympia Scarry and Dasha Zhukova. “Although there’s so much pressure when the party is for you. I just want everyone to have a good time.”
Blasberg had little cause for concern. Nicole Richie, Kate Bosworth, and Margherita Missoni, who hosted the evening along with Style.com’s editor in chief, Dirk Standen, were there to put guests at ease. Asked which of his many female friends best embodied the Classy ethos, Blasberg pointed to Missoni, who was gently corralling guests toward the back room where the book was being sold. “I think a hardworking, responsible young woman, even if she deals in knitwear, is pure class,” he deadpanned. Bosworth offered up her own musings on what separates the ladies from the tramps. “Young girls wear too much makeup these days,” she said. “That’s actually my own biggest regret. I was in such a hurry to grow up. You should just enjoy feeling youthful and fresh.”
At the dinner that followed at Mr. Chow, Blasberg caught up with Nicky Hilton, Malin Akerman, and Patricia Arquette over a family-style feast that went uncharacteristically late for L.A. (Co-sponsor Fiji Water can’t be blamed for any hangovers the next morning.) The fashion world was also well represented, with designers both local (Band of Outsiders’ Scott Sternberg) and visiting (Pucci’s Peter Dundas) on hand. Attention was briefly diverted from table talk when two chefs wheeled out a dough-filled cart and proceeded to demonstrate the art of Chinese noodle-making. “What are they doing?” asked Erdem Moralioglu as the men silently kneaded the dough into a long, thin ribbon. “Making a scarf,” quipped Tara Subkoff.
—Evelyn Crowley Continue reading