DORÉ

During NYFW (which seems like forever ago but really wasn’t that long ago…)

We ventured to The Plaza Hotel for the Harper’s Bazaar ICONS party. The party was in celebration of the shoot Carine Roitfeld did for the magazine, featuring basically everyone in fashion (okay, 30 people like Lauren Hutton, Cindy Crawford, Gigi Hadid and Brooke Shields…all wearing fishnets in someway…) and Lady Gaga was slated to perform a jazz set in honor of her new album with Tony Bennett. The dress code was black tie (I wore a jumpsuit, modern black tie, right?) and Erik looked pretty spiffy in a suit and tie. This is what happened (aka this is what I wrote in my phone throughout the night)…

8:30 PM: Erik and I arrive at The Plaza and join a line of true paparazzi celebrity photographers for check in. Each of them has brought with them their own stool. We missed the BYO stool memo but have our fingers crossed that it means we can still get some good red carpet photos. We feel a little bit like Ryan Seacrest and Giuliana Rancic…

9:00 PM: The red carpet arrivals being. The carpet is actually black. Erik takes his place in the photo pit and I’m in a line up with editors from all the weekly tabloids. They are all studying a printed out book of faces. The original Facebook?

9:08 PM: Lauren Hutton arrives wearing leggings. Leggings. My jumpsuit immediately feels a lot less modern. So now I feel like I don’t know anything about anything. Spend next few minutes thinking about how I wish I was wearing leggings…

9:10 PM: Interview Lauren Hutton (if I told you how much I was sweating you wouldn’t believe me). She tells me she still doesn’t really know what a modern icon is. Well Lauren, I think you’re one.

9:12 PM: Donatella hits the carpet. Shit gets crazy.

9:14PM: A lot of people I don’t know on the carpet. Socialites? Long lost Kardashian family members? I overhear someone say one of them has a single coming out if we want to talk with her. No one does.

9:20 PM: I’m trying to give Erik the heads up when someone cool is coming his way, so we start trying to communicate through sign language. Turns out Erik only knows enough to spell “Joe” as in Joe Jonas. Yeah, Joe Jonas is here.

9:36 PM: The star of the evening, Lady Gaga arrives and shares the carpet with Carine Roitfeld and Brooke Shields. Paparazzi wet dream (can I say wet dream?).

9:40 PM: The paparazzi scream so loud at these celebrities, you would think that someone had just killed a puppy. I’m talking bloodcurdling screams. I’m starting to get a little scared.

9:42 PM: Ah friends on the carpet! Aurélie, Laure and Laura Brown take a walk.

10:00 PM: I’ve determined that Karolína Kurková is too beautiful for words.

10:16 PM: Kendall (Jenner) arrives. She looks great. It’s not as big of a wet dream (sorry!) as I expected. I stepped on the train of her dress. It’s all okay. The end.

10:19 PM: Linda Evangelista. Get really excited when she comes over to talk to us. The girl next to me asks her a lot of questions about her birth plan. Really? Her birth plan?

10:28 PM: A small French bulldog appears on the carpet. I’m not sure who the owner is, but a girl asked me take her photo with it and now it’s just on my iPhone. So… TMZ you want it?

[I later find out that the dog belongs to Gaga. Celebrity dogs are the new celebrities??]

10:35 PM: Erik and I decide to head into the event, we’ve reached full red carpet capacity (and my feet are starting to hurt). Inside we get squeezed between Tyson Beckford and his girlfriend/wife/model/friend. We act annoyed (“Ugh excuse you, Tyson!”) but it was probably the best part of the night. Erik says his breath smells like peppermint and sex.

10:50 PM: We make our way to the stage to catch the performance by Lady Gaga. She’s doing a jazz set tonight in honor of her new album with Tony Bennett. We dance to the DJ and sneak out passed hors d’oeuvres (mini lobster rolls pass by, just out of reach).

11:30 PM: Gaga goes on and it’s amazing. She’s meant for jazz.

12:30 AM: We find Garance through the crowd and spend the next hour dancing our faces off. Can every fashion week start this way?