I sometimes find myself randomly at an event, having tagged along with the guest of a guest (of a guest). It’s not a goal of mine to crash parties, and I derive no joy from successfully getting behind the velvet rope (ok, maybe a little joy). I’m just interested in the food, the fashion, and the free libations.
Miu Miu threw a party to celebrate their latest short video in their Women’s Tales series and the launch of their Fall 2011 Noir sunglasses — and I found myself as a guest of a guest in a lovely courtyard at someone’s giant residence with no idea why I was there or what the event was even about.
Apparently a number of celebrities were present, but I only spotted two (see below for which two) because I am terrible at recognizing people. Actually, it was only after I looked at other posts that I realized just how many celebrities were present.
Wünderkinds were in full force at the event, with fashion blogger, Tavi Gevinson, and Hailee Steinfeld, (from the Coen’s True Grit movie) new face of Miu Miu, flaunting outfits that probably cost more than my annual salary. In what Jezebel.com calls “The Best Red Carpet We’ve Seen in a Long Time,” sartorially speaking, the crowd was much better dressed than the usual Hollywood uniform of bandage dresses with sky-high heels. (Alas, I did not have my camera, so I had to recreate some of the outfits I spotted.)
7:00 PM: My Very Italian Boyfriend (VIB) informs me that we are going to a party. I have exactly 30 minutes to get ready. What??
7:01 PM: Panic has settled into malaise. It’s LA — no one gets dressed up here. I’ll revert to my standard.
7:02 PM: I am now told that the party is hosted by Miu Miu. Oh sh*t, now I gotta up my game. Panic re-ensues.
7:30 PM: Getting dressed has been halted by “We don’t need to meet them until 9.” 9?? I get changed back into my PJs.
9:30 PM: Arrive at a location on Sunset that I’ve been to for screenings many time before. I illegally make a turn into the parking lot having missed our turn earlier. No one saw it, therefore it doesn’t count.
9:35 PM: Parking attendant’s taken the car, now we’re floundering about in the parking lot looking for an exit. We’re not alone — a skinny wannabe model/actor and his friend are similarly lost. We all walk past the elevators, only to double back. The female friend is wearing a loose-fitting black dress that has a cut-out back… and these amazing, to-die-for black buckled booties with a skinny, skinny stiletto. I later figure out that they’re Alexander McQueen.
9:37 PM: We arrive at the check-in station where a phalanx of PR girls are sweating it out in the top level garage.
9:38 PM: The couple before us is checked off, and get into a white, unmarked vehicle. Wait a minute, just what kind of party is this?
9:39 PM: VIB’s name is not on the list. We’re shuttled off to the head PR girl, who promptly starts tappity-tapping into her iPhone to headquarters. I affect an air of studied nonchalance.
9:40 PM: A pair of girls have shown up and gotten checked through to the van. One is wearing an amazing long, bell-sleeved, backless, white minidress with rhinestone trim around the neck. It looks vintage, but it’s not. She’s with a friend who’s wearing a forgettable little black dress, but the outfit is redeemed by the amazing clutch she waves around with each sentence.
If these two dresses had a love child, it would be the dress that I saw.
I’ll be honest, I don’t actually remember the clutch anymore — but I happen to think this one is amazing and if she had been carrying it, I probably would have attempted to take it from her… and be writing this from a jail cell.
9:42 PM: VIB is now writing out his name for head PR girl. When that doesn’t work, he has to write out the name of the person who invited him. Apparently Italian names do not spell themselves for non-speakers.
9:43 PM: We’re cleared! We also head for the white van, which has been patiently waiting for us. As we get in, I faintly hear one of the girls say, “Make sure you put on their blindfolds, so that they don’t know where they’re going.” What???
9:45 PM: Van exits underground parking lot. Luckily, the driver didn’t hear the PR girl, so no blindfolds for us. The girls that entered the van before us seemed like best friends, but apparently barely know each other. That doesn’t stop the one in black from going on ad nauseum about her mental episode that required therapy and medication. She doesn’t seem to care that a van full of strangers knows the details of her mental instability, which leads me to believe that the therapy and medication has not helped.
9:47 PM: We’ve arrived! At a curb. Less than a block from our starting point. It seems that vans need to take turns going up the steep hill and driveway, so we’re in queue.
9:50 PM: Still sitting curbside, like so many bushels of overripe fruit.
9:55 PM: The young model/actor wannabe starts complaining about his lower back. Loudly enough to drown out therapy girl’s life story. Girl with the awesome Alexander McQueens suggests walking up the hill. Um, yeah right. In those shoes? You’ll be lucky if you can make it through the night standing in one place.
9:56 PM: Their whining is our command. The van lurches forward, and we drive probably 100 feet to a driveway. Oh well, McQueen girl probably could’ve walked it. We pour out of the van.
9:57 PM: Need libations, stat!
9:58 PM: VIB is plowing through the crowd in search of his Very Italian Friends (VIF). I have to remind him, loudly, that those of us in heels can not sprint through crowds on cobblestone.
9:59 PM: Italians meet! Loud greeting and kissing ensue.
10:05 PM: Trays of food are being walked around by women in very old-fashioned maid outfits, and men in pretty normal butler garb. Lots of empty glasses are being bussed, but no drinks materialize. I nudge VIB; he acknowledges, but is too busy meeting and greeting to make a move.
10:06 PM: I make a beeline for the bar.
10:07 PM: Sweet success! Let me toast to the evening’s first glass of bubbly.
10:10 PM: Is that Steve Cojocaru walking by? The tuxedo pants and loafers without socks aren’t helping dispel the mental image of Michael Jackson that just popped into my head. His jacket is an interesting patterned black material… and omg, did he just stop in front of our group and stick his hands down his pants and adjust himself? Yes, yes he did. He’s fixing his entire outfit no more than ten feet from me. Out in the middle of the party. Guess the world is his dressing room.
10:12 PM: One of the VIF has brought an Italian actress along with him. She’s wearing one of the best outfits of the night, in my opinion. Unfortunately, she’s also suggesting that she re-enacts the famous Trevi fountain scene from La Dolce Vita with the very fountain we’re standing next to. Um, I just got here—I’d like to have another drink before being kicked out, thanks.
10:15 PM: A waiter carrying two bottles of champagne swings by and refills my glass even though it’s still half full. Waiter is henceforth deemed Awesomesauce Waiter (AW).
10:20 PM: More blathering in Italian. I ask what the theme of the party is, as there’s an old-timey car parked behind the step-and-repeat, with a girl wearing a cigarette outfit complete with tray hocking… Miu Miu Noir sunglasses. No one is able to come up with a coherent answer.
10:25 PM: Looking up, I see a blurry freeze frame of the short that most likely played before we arrived. I ask if they will play it again, and what the short was about. A garbled answer from a drunken Italian leaves me with only the words “kinky” and “collection.” I make a mental note to seek out the press release at a later time.
10:26 PM: That man over there either has the most amazing ankle wrap sandals, or he’s wearing sandals with printed socks. I scoot closer to him to get a better look.
10:27 PM: Printed socks with sandals. It’s a twist on the Midwestern-tourist chic — coming soon to an Urban Outfitters near you, I’m sure.
10:30 PM: AW stops by again. I love a guy who can keep my glass full.
10:31 PM: I was told earlier that Marilyn Manson was at the party, and at this moment he exits the house at this moment with an entourage. I try to see if I recognize any one else in his party, but like I said before, I’m terrible at “famous” people-spotting.
10:40 PM: Scanning the crowd, the out fits are clearly amazing. I see architectural United Nude-looking heels on a girl sitting on an ottoman, and an amazing green seatbelt-coatdress thing that a woman is rocking with what looks like fuchsia faux-croc pointy heels that were all the rage in the early 2000s.
I’m not kidding…the coatdress looked like this, except green.
10:45 PM: Lots of vintage looking items present. A girl swans by in a long, sheer, spaghetti-strapped seafoam green maxidress that’s probably two sizes too big for her. But it’s done deliberately so it has that extra flowyness and drapeyness that some street stylers are so fond of.
Ok, so this isn’t seafoam green, but it approximated the shape best.
10:48 PM: Eating is probably a good idea, so long as AW is going to keep filling my glass before it gets empty. I spot whole fish being served at a nearby table, but pass. I try a bite sized lobster salad on a corncake—tasty. A nearby VIF has been eyeballing the lobster corncake server, and abruptly opens with this lovely line: “Are you French?”
10:50 PM: Time for dessert! Brownie bite up first…and ugh, this was clearly made with mockalate or something. Pass. A mini-meringue with candied fruit up next—much better. Though, wow, that was sweet. More champagne to wash it down!
11:00 PM: VIB has just shoved a lime square into his mouth and up walks the Miu Miu representative. Oops! Greetings all around in Italian.
11:03 PM: Wait, is that girl wearing a vintage wedding dress? High, rounded neck, midi-length in an ivory satin…the odd fit and cut suggests that it’s definitely vintage.
11:10 PM: I think I should know that tall blonde over there. There’s a flock of people around her and her friend and I can hear the ass-kissing from clear across the courtyard.
11:20 PM: As we’re doing the usual Italian good-byes (loud, kissing, lots of Ciao! Ciao!), I spot this girl out of the corner of my eye. She’s wearing this embroidered kimono over a pleated white dress, paired with witchy black boots. Her hair is done in a tight braid framing the face. It’s such an awesomely different look that I vow to find all the disparate pieces and recreate the look for myself.
11:33 PM: We’re safely ensconced back into unmarked white van that drives us the two blocks to the parking lot.
11:35 PM: As we pile out of the van, the security guard emphatically states, “Please watch out for traffic. Please watch out for traffic. PLEASE WATCH OUT FOR TRAFFIC. “ Clearly, free booze had rendered someone oblivious enough to walk into a moving car earlier.
11:37 PM: Time to go home and watch the short that we missed because we were working on “Italian” time.