Home Fashion Yves Saint Laurent’s Parisienne Masquerade, Bon Ton..!! (with flair)

Yves Saint Laurent’s Parisienne Masquerade, Bon Ton..!! (with flair)




First of all, if you didn’t understand French, it was ok because no one was actually from Paris at the party.  Arriving at 8:50 to the Norfolk Street venue, we were greeted by an army of security, paparazzi, on lookers, fashionistas, party crashers, 9 to 5’ers (again in disguise-duh, it was a masquerade) and an entire team of models from DNA.  After checking in I was forced to grab my white wristband without permission (vip status, literally grabbing it since they wouldn’t give me one legitimately) and headed to the closest bar which was on my starboard side.  Portside, I noticed a masquerade of models whoreganizing their table, trenching in for the long champagne induced evening.  Outside, there was a mob scene of masks trying to push their way into the party.  My BlackBerry was exploding, “help I’m outside”, “where are you?”, “I have been in line for over an hour are you in?”, and so forth….  I just wanted to enjoy my vodka soda, the playmate I had brought with me to the party and listen to the fabulous beats.

The Misshapes were literally setting the mood for the party, very Euro sans le trash and everyone was getting jiggy.  Alexandra Richards managed to keep the pace going until midnight, when the lights suddenly flared up.  “What the Fuuu?” I thought….But the invite did say 9 to 12 am and they were definitely punctual.  It was sort of like having hot, intense sex with Miss Universe or your hot neighbor (I have a great neighborhood) and right when you are giving your signature moves, bam..!!! (no not premature ejaculation), the lights turn on and the windows open for everyone to see.  There was no encore.  Next time please go at least until 2 am or start charging at the door after midnight so people can keep grooving.  YSL you can’t tease people like that…

Exiting was harder than entering, coat check, lines to get out, security all over, people just lingering trying to hook up with one another, photographers attacking my playmate with their cameras before finally reaching the safety of the street (where she did a little photo session). It finally sank it, the party was officially over.  Well, at least my BlackBerry stopped blowing up….

Ford Models Goes Ghoulish and Goblin Early.