Another frosty winter night was in front of us as we headed towards the Meat-Smacking district (don’t you hate the Disneyland style set up the city carved out of the streets there?) to cover the Betsey Johnson after party. I handed my card to the doorman and I was not on the list. Some strong words were exchanged and I wasn’t taking “no” as the final answer. Fortunately, the “other” list was inside the door. The apologies were exchanged and we headed towards the bar with my camera in hand.
I had a gander to my right, “was that Betsey Johnson?” I thought to myself. No, it wasn’t. I ran into a guy who dressed like Betsey Johnson, but certainly he was not Betsey. In fact, I didn’t know if I was back in the 80’s with Madonna’s Like A Virgin followers or Cyndi Lauper colorful styled clones (obviously without died hair and a classier version). Nonetheless, champagne and vodka flowed while everyone seemed to be all smiles.