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“We’re Off the Clock Now”
To say that everyone at Giambattista Valli‘s dinner at Caviar Kaspia was excited to finally let their hair down after a month of shows would be an understatement. During dinner—co-hosted by Moncler, where he designs the Gamme Rouge collection—Valli found himself dancing on tables, tossing cherry vodka shots down the banquettes to his friends, and asking his girls to shuffle their legs to let other dinner guests crawl under the table. “Ah, but c’mon, now is the time to celebrate,” Valli smiled, as he projected his face on the wall via a customized lighter with a flashlight on the bottom. “I have about one night to celebrate before it’s back to work.”
He wasn’t kidding: Sitting directly across from him was Charlotte Dellal, the shoe designer for whom Valli is designing a summer wedding dress—and with whom he had scheduled a fitting the next day. “But Giamba, let’s not do a fitting tomorrow. I’ve eaten too much,” Dellal protested, looking at a baked potato that had been strip-mined for its caviar. Not that all the toasting was fashion-related; next to Dellal was Elettra Wiedemann, who had just finished her master’s thesis on vertical farming. “What’s that?” Valli asked. But before Wiedemann could fully explain her idea to build farms in metropolitan centers, it was time for another shot: “To vertical farming!”
Over at the Pavillion Ledoyen, meanwhile, Spike Jonze screened one of his newest shorts for Jefferson Hack‘s Dazed & Confused party. With so many obligations, much of the fashion flock got there on the late side, effectively forfeiting their moments with the filmmaker and the English publisher (they disappeared early, never to be seen again!). Not that this did anything to discourage lingering: “I’m going to have a cocktail,” Leigh Lezark said. “We’re off the clock now.” She was right: With all the models, editors, DJs, and other fashion professionals done for the season, not to mention the rest of Parisian youth up for a good night, the Dazed party was loud and it was good: In fact, it ended at a sunrise-scary 5 a.m. “See you next season!” Lou Doillon, who had hustled a group into her caravan, cried out into the Paris night.
—Derek Blasberg Continue reading
“We’re Off the Clock Now”
To say that everyone at Giambattista Valli‘s dinner at Caviar Kaspia was excited to finally let their hair down after a month of shows would be an understatement. During dinner—co-hosted by Moncler, where he designs the Gamme Rouge collection—Valli found himself dancing on tables, tossing cherry vodka shots down the banquettes to his friends, and asking his girls to shuffle their legs to let other dinner guests crawl under the table. “Ah, but c’mon, now is the time to celebrate,” Valli smiled, as he projected his face on the wall via a customized lighter with a flashlight on the bottom. “I have about one night to celebrate before it’s back to work.”
He wasn’t kidding: Sitting directly across from him was Charlotte Dellal, the shoe designer for whom Valli is designing a summer wedding dress—and with whom he had scheduled a fitting the next day. “But Giamba, let’s not do a fitting tomorrow. I’ve eaten too much,” Dellal protested, looking at a baked potato that had been strip-mined for its caviar. Not that all the toasting was fashion-related; next to Dellal was Elettra Wiedemann, who had just finished her master’s thesis on vertical farming. “What’s that?” Valli asked. But before Wiedemann could fully explain her idea to build farms in metropolitan centers, it was time for another shot: “To vertical farming!”
Over at the Pavillion Ledoyen, meanwhile, Spike Jonze screened one of his newest shorts for Jefferson Hack‘s Dazed & Confused party. With so many obligations, much of the fashion flock got there on the late side, effectively forfeiting their moments with the filmmaker and the English publisher (they disappeared early, never to be seen again!). Not that this did anything to discourage lingering: “I’m going to have a cocktail,” Leigh Lezark said. “We’re off the clock now.” She was right: With all the models, editors, DJs, and other fashion professionals done for the season, not to mention the rest of Parisian youth up for a good night, the Dazed party was loud and it was good: In fact, it ended at a sunrise-scary 5 a.m. “See you next season!” Lou Doillon, who had hustled a group into her caravan, cried out into the Paris night.
—Derek Blasberg Continue reading
Isn’t It Iconic?
David Yurman‘s international efforts have been at full force in the past few years, taking the American brand to China, Korea, and, as of Monday night’s shop opening at the Printemps department store in Paris, to Europe. To help celebrate, a whole smattering of international fashion fans came out to show their support, from the Far East (actress Fan Bingbing) to the East Coast (photographer Peter Lindbergh). But David Yurman’s favorite person? Catherine Deneuve. “You can’t get much more French than that!” The Yurmans’ welcome to France wasn’t entirely smooth sailing: Soon after landing, both David and his wife, Sybil, who founded the company three decades ago not long after marrying, got the flu, leaving them bedridden for much of the night. But with son Evan now taking over more and more of the business, the slack was picked up. And in addition to her son, Sybil had a little local help. “Tonight I’ve given myself an additional prescription: macarons,” she said, munching on some of the goodies brought in from Ladurée.
From one side of the Seine to the other, the store party circuit continued. Pete Doherty, a man who’s had a well-publicized dalliance or two with some of fashion’s favorite faces, was playing a gig to celebrate the refurbishment of the Joseph store on Paris’ Avenue Montaigne. The singer, who accessorized his look with some Chanel pins, hasn’t lost his onstage charisma. “I definitely see it: He looks so boyish, and he’s such a romantic. All his songs are about a girl,” said Tatiana Santo Domingo, who had squeezed near the front with friends Eugenie Niarchos and Julia Restoin-Roitfeld. “Although you should take him home and put him in the bath first,” came a reply. Also appreciative was Suzy Menkes, standing smack-dab in front with a big smile on her face. “He was splendid,” she said. (Apparently, the International Herald Tribune fashion critic has been bitten by the live-music bug and is even thinking of hitting the festivals. “I asked her to come to Burning Man with me this year, and she said she would come if my grandmother did,” Margherita Missoni revealed. “Well, my grandmother said yes!”) After the concert, Doherty and co. moved upstairs. “We’re going up for some cocktails, cakes, and guitar,” his pal Irina Lazareanu said. “My three favorite things.”
—Derek Blasberg Continue reading
Off-Screen Action
The Elton John AIDS Foundation’s annual black-tie Oscars viewing party is less high-pressure than the big show itself, which has its perks: You can table-hop, talk freely over the telecast, and take a bathroom break whenever you feel like it. Joaquin Phoenix, Will Smith, and Victoria Beckham were among the dinner guests taking full advantage of the less-than-hushed atmosphere to make their voices heard. A whoop went up when Mo’Nique got her Best Supporting Actress statuette. “I’ve got goose bumps!” Eva Amurri exclaimed. After the main event, Simon Cowell got in on bidding at the post-show auction, Miley Cyrus dropped by following her presenting duties, and the host himself took a moment to laud Kathryn Bigelow‘s historic win as “so great, and so well deserved.”
Then Grace Jones—having just played a Viktor & Rolf bash in Paris a few days ago—took over, with a performance that incorporated her signature hula-hoop moves and frequent headwear changes. Kate Mara and Hayden Panettierre were among the many pretty things to shake off their shoes, although Panettierre fretted that without her heels, “I’m not even normal-human-sized!” At least you’re not at the Oscars, Hayden, where every shoeless step would be broadcast to the world.
Meanwhile, over at the annual Vanity Fair after-party, the winners were arriving for their victory lap, golden new additions in tow. Don’t feel too sorry for the empty-handed—they got the consolation of wearing gorgeous new dresses for the evening’s second act. The hems got higher, naturally: Nominee Anna Kendrick traded in her blush pink Elie Saab Haute Couture from the ceremony for a shorter, white Saab confection, and presenter Amanda Seyfried swapped her Armani Privé for cocktail-length Valentino Haute Couture. VF draws from ranks wider than just Hollywood, and Captain Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger, figure skater Evan Lysacek (with his ardent admirer and costume designer, Vera Wang), and snowboarder Shaun White were on hand to hobnob, too. The Flying Tomato was still celebrating his own victory—on the slopes of Vancouver, not the stages of the Kodak—with a patriotic outfit of red, white, and blue. Not an easy look, but lucky for him, gold goes with everything.
—Darrell Hartman Continue reading
Hurt So Good
“It’s like Hollywood prom.” That wasn’t Precious star Gabourey Sidibe‘s best line on the red carpet (more on that later), but she delivered it in two separate interviews. Well, Sidibe (who positively glowed in navy Grecian-draped Marchesa) was half right. It’s a metaphor that rings true for attendees—the nerves, the limos—but for the rest of us, the Oscars is, of course, the Super Bowl of Fashion.
The effect of the red carpet as spectator sport is debatable, but its ascendance has coincided with the ever-increasing number of safe looks each year that leave fashion fans just a bit cold. This time, there was a sea of icy, neutral hues along with always-appropriate red, gently lapping away at any chance of a truly jaw-dropping ensemble.
However, “safe” is a macro complaint. On a case by case basis, there was little to argue about regarding any of the following: Best Supporting Actress winner Mo’Nique, sleekly draped in royal blue Tadashi Shoji; fellow nominee Anna Kendrick in a pale blush Elie Saab confection; or Kristen Stewart, pretty and smiling, in a midnight blue strapless Monique Lhuillier gown. Nor could you really quibble with the straightforward siren glamour of Best Actress winner Sandra Bullock in a lace-topped, liquid silver beaded Marchesa dress paired with red lips and Veronica Lake hair.
Those that gambled by upping the fashion quotient did just that. One of several haute couture frocks, Zoe Saldana‘s frothy-hemmed Givenchy gown didn’t fully translate its runway sizzle. Charlize Theron‘s Christian Dior column, a couture look that was custom-made for her, had two rosettes of lilac satin atop the bust that were head-scratchingly distracting. Sarah Jessica Parker and Diane Kruger fared better in Chanel, as did Amanda Seyfried and Jennifer Lopez in Armani Privé, and Demi Moore in Atelier Versace.
One of the best looks of the night was a lovely Carey Mulligan in strapless black satin Prada, its bodice encrusted with chunks of black Swarovski crystal. It curved up slightly in front, which reduced the heavy, gown-y effect that was a common ailment on the carpet. (Penélope Cruz looked gorge from the waist up in her wine Donna Karan Couture, but seemed to be drowning in the ball skirt.) Mulligan’s pixie ‘do also gave the look a fresh, youthful spirit. Miley Cyrus, take note! Another highlight was Meryl Streep, who looked perfectly breezy and at ease in her softly draped white jersey dress by Chris March, the onetime Project Runway contender who also dressed her for the Golden Globes.
Still, those longing for a major fashion moment had to content themselves by marveling at the perfect stubble of Tom Ford (who dressed hosts Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin, along with a bevy of A-list males) and his spontaneous shout-out to Donatella Versace. “Donatella’s great and you look gorgeous!” Ford said after running into an Atelier Versace-clad Elizabeth Banks in a carpet traffic jam.
“If fashion was porn, this is the money shot,” said Sidibe, quite memorably, of her dress. Actually, the night’s top moment was yet to arrive: That would be when the brilliant Hurt Locker helmer Kathryn Bigelow, in Yves Saint Laurent, accepted her award for Best Director, the first female winner in Academy Awards history. We’ve been hearing a lot about the “power woman” on the runways this season. Here at last was the real deal.
See a list of the Academy Award winners >
—Meenal Mistry Continue reading
United Nations
Welcome to the ‘Bul market—Istanbul, that is. The latest territory to get its own edition of Vogue is Turkey, and the new magazine was fêted with a launch party at the Crillon in Paris last night. “Have you been to Turkey? It’s sort of an undiscovered paradise, and I’m feeling very proud of my countrymen tonight,” said Erdem Moralioglu, the London-based Turkish designer, who dressed Jessica Stam, the debut issue’s cover girl, for the party. “I know it’s not the first thing people think of, but Turkey is really chic.”
That it is, judging by the crowd that overran the hotel to pay their respects to editor in chief Seda Domaniç. Designers Peter Dundas, Riccardo Tisci, Hussein Chalayan, and Gareth Pugh all came to toast the launch, as did models Maryna Linchuk, Karolina Kurkova, and Trish Goff (also in Erdem). Mert and Marcus and Ellen von Unwerth circled, too. All in all, it sounded like a compelling contributors’ page for a future issue. So popular was the event, in fact, that before the end, there weren’t any glasses left and all the Champagne and vodka had been drunk. “So I’ll have whatever you have left,” Bianca Brandolini d’Adda said. “Is whiskey Turkish?”
—Derek Blasberg Continue reading
Flower Children
Gaia Repossi, poster child for the newest generation of the Place Vendôme-based French jewelry company, made some major inroads in New York this season. A few weeks ago, her own collaborations with Alexander Wang and Joseph Altuzarra debuted on the designers’ respective runways. To celebrate, she decided to host a dinner last night for her NYC-based friends at the quintessentially Parisian brasserie Café de Flore. Joining her were all sorts of transatlantic guests, including Leigh Lezark, Dree Hemingway, Jessica Stam, and the three Traina sisters.
Repossi, ensconced in a corner for most of the evening, contrasted the working styles of two of New York’s favorite new faces. “With Joseph [Altuzarra] it was very easy. We discussed what we wanted back in September, and gradually it happened until his show,” she explained. “But Alex [Wang] was much more fast-paced. Up until three days before the show, we were still discussing the motif and the feel of the show. We tried Skype-ing, but that didn’t work so well.” Perhaps not, but her burnt-gold cuffs were still standouts on his runway.
With everyone at their seats and jewelry talk wrapped up, the conversation moved on to the very late-arriving dinner courses. The invite said 8 p.m., but the first course didn’t hit the tables till nearly 11. Erin Wasson was jealously eyeing the cut-up croque monsieur that was given to Asia Zahm, Olivier Zahm’s daughter. “You know, that’s all you need: cheese and carbs,” Wasson concluded. “That will get you through fashion week.” Perhaps a hunger tizzy was to blame, but before the end of the night there was a full-on flower fight, using the centerpieces as ammunition, between tables—Trish Goff, Wasson, and Lindsay Lohan on one side, and Vladimir Restoin-Roitfeld, Giovanna Battaglia, and the Traina sisters on the other. “This is not very French,” Julia Restoin-Roitfeld, who remained neutral in the floral fray, explained. “But I’m sure they’re amused.”
—Derek Blasberg Continue reading
House of Style
First theory of parties: The size of the venue is inversely proportional to the quality of the event. That seemed to be the case last night at the tiny design shop Maison Darré, which hosted a cocktail party to celebrate the store’s newest series of editions. Things started off quietly enough, but then diners at next door’s popular canteen Ferdi began leaving their tables mid-meal to grab a coupe of Champagne and catch up with their friends inside. L’Officiel magazine’s radio-studio truck arrived out front and started pulling in partygoers for after-show postmortems. And most of these folks were in addition to the evening’s actual invitees: pals of owner Vincent Darré (and edition designers past, present, and perhaps future) like Spike Jonze, Inès de la Fressange, Dior Fine Jewelry’s Victoire de Castellane, and actress Arielle Dombasle with her husband, philosopher Bernard-Henri Lévy.
The celebration was a family one, focusing on Pierre and Olympia Le-Tan. Papa Pierre, Paris’ celebrated illustrator, unveiled his Apparition-Disparition fabrics for Maison Darré, which have a mysterious scatter print of eyes, faces, and bones, like clues in a detective story. Working with Le-Tan, according to Darré, is a labor of love: “Pierre is a crazy detail maniac, and he only does things when he feels like it. It took over a year to finish the fabric.” Daughter Olympia, on the other hand, works more quickly. She was launching Boîtes de Nuit, the second round of her limited-edition fabric-covered embroidered clutches. Last season’s best seller, which featured a replica of an early-edition cover of J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye, was snapped up by the director Jonze, who also special-ordered Moby Dick for his pal Maurice Sendak. Jonze is currently working on a promotional film for the bags, starring Le-Tan’s take on Bram Stoker’s Dracula, with the story’s characters spilling out of the purse in 3-D. “I’ve known Olympia since she was a baby,” Darré said. “Now she’s taking after her father, who’s always surrounded himself with books.”
—Rebecca Voight Continue reading