LAST NIGHT'S GRAND MARC/ V MASH UP

Belevdere Vodka wants you to know they sent this Gaga pic. Cuz TI couldn't take a party pic even if his life was in jeopardy

Remember a year ago when a fashion punter would actually wait, like the excruciating 2 or 3 hours after the fact for the first evidence of the goings on and Monday night doings at the House Of Marc Jacobs. First would come trickling the texts and then the phone calls and finally a first glimpse here or there on thefashionspot. How times have changed and how quickly at that. By the time TI staggered out of the Marc Jacobs/V after-party my phone started to chirp with every...last..little...detail of the wild night's carrying-ons . Lady Gaga acapella...Marc exiting perched on Lorenzo's back (hmm)... Janet Jackson wading through the mob as her security clears the way for The Presence.
As I was entering TI overheard this really sweet young male model crowing to his mates that he had been at the show that night but by then the world had seen that spray of twitterpics that chronicled backstage and runway in real time. I loved the democracy of that and I love that Marc Jacobs had become the brand most tuned in this hyper-digital reality. Say whatever you want about his clothes , Mister Jacobs is deeply gifted at the master-mixing of things that usually don't like to mix. Democracy in fashion is an ideal that sounds very appealing but tends to confuse the hardcore members of the fashion ranks because of that instinctive urge towards "exclusivity"-accent on exclusion. I thought that was the fantastic thing about this V/Marc Jacobs/Gaga fusion last night. Apparently the door scene turned to insanity as the night wore on, but inside it was like being in the New York of yore when disparate elements rubbed up against each other kicking up sparks full of creative, social and sexual tension.
It reminded me of those nights in the early 90's when I used to sneak out of my parents very strict household to go carry-on at Suzanne Bartsch's Copocopana parties on 59th Street . Here it was as in flashback...the drag queens (Lady Bunny! Quel âge avez-vous anyways? ) the be-suited, the B-boys, the Old Editrixes (of both genders), The Club Kids, The Moguls, The Muscle Men, The Upper East Siders, The Models...all co-mingling in that cocktail only NYC can brew. Did that last sentence just skid into a sexual territory? I won't front, I ended up so drunk (all that damn Belevdere in the VIP room) I couldn't differentiate who I was social kissing from whom I was really kissing. I almost tongue kissed a certain star stylist until I remembered my manners and once I made out that the ultra-blonde waving madly at me while perched on some boy's shoulders was Dree Hemmingway I could stop hugging and kissing her either. That girl is in the stratosphere now and its so very nice to see the right girl making the right moves. I turned a corner to find Sam from Ford with Brad Kroenig who showed us pictures of his now 18 month son on his phone and then turned the next corner to find Nicholas Grasa grinding away on the dance floor.
It was funny watching Suzy Menkes head bob with her signature flip to Lady Bunny's house beat. Methinks the feud is very buried because La Menkes was out till the merry end. Now I know what Joe Zee was doing thumbing away on his phone all night...the best twittering of the party came Courtesy of Mr Fashion. Eniko was out on the dance floor whipping her hair about like only a real model can. I liked Hamish Bowles infamous new mustache which made him look all the more haute-Hapsburg than ever. The Wilhelmina crew ring led by Kevin Apana and RJ with Sean Patterson was there and quite happy given the uptick in Show Week bookings for his women's division. I didn't see Mario Testino, it was that much of a mob but Inez and Vonoodh certainly worked the room as they weaved about the dance floor.
And there it was, full circle. The Copaconaneque carnival spirit with people really letting loose and really having fun was a respite from all the ultra-cool I've been weathering all week. As for Lady Gaga and her hella intimate acapella stint. I thought she looked like one of those little portraits of Renaissance saints with her halo-wig and all (that is if your saints wore red lace bodysuits) . And I love that she keeps the fires of New York excess and fabulousness burning. La Gaga was so close to the stage you could smell the candle wax. Three forces; a star , a designer and a magazine united to do the thing that makes New York sooo New York. That's the realness thereof.