Party Girls
Last Friday, I hosted the Montez Press Radio fundraiser, a holiday party “on ice” curated by downtown pseudo-intellectuals, fashion girls, and Bushwick rave kids (a Venn diagram I might float in the middle of, though I don’t go to Brooklyn as much as I used to). Billed as a gala featuring an outdoor skating rink, spiked hot chocolate, and concrete fire pits, most attendees wisely forewent fashion in favor of beanies and black puffers, though there were a few standout looks.
Pop princess Isabella Lovestory came straight from her Elsewhere show in full glam featuring blue-tipped bangs and bright yellow lashes (courtesy of Sean Bennett and Nina Carelli). Equally eye-catching was the writer and Paris Review editor Olivia Kan-Sperling, who skated around in a white, body-hugging “Russian bimbocore” dress lined with faux fur trim, as if she were Santa’s little helper. Natural red head Alice Hines, Vice correspondent and my former editor at Vestoj, hit the rink with a dalmatian-shaped purse that was more Slaves of New York meets 101 Dalmatians than it was Thom Browne. I too channelled Disney’s Cruella by way of an oversized fox fur coat (a relic thrifted by my mother over ten years ago), as did Dese Escobar, the queen of Club Glam and downtown’s resident Blair Waldorf, whose cropped coyote jacket was sourced by one of her minions.
For those interested in having fun with fashion, putting outfits together isn't an algorithmic sport, but an experiment in how far one can go without clashing the wrong way (there's no such thing as being overdressed). Still, I'm not one to deny the existence of trends, particularly when it comes to revivals. For example, it's undeniable that the mid-to-late noughties are in, as are the 1980s, particularly when it comes to big bangles and shoulder pads, hooded dresses and long leather coats. Anthony Vaccarello is doing it well at Saint Laurent, as is Women’s History Museum, and the timeless archivist and designer Mati Hays, who recently donned an exceptional Emanuel Ungaro polka dot suit during a salon at her apartment-cum-workspace, House of Iconica, before warning her Instagram followers about the return of the good, the bad, and the ugly of the decade.
Perhaps it doesn't make sense that the eighties, a time of overindulgence and economic prosperity, would be rearing its permed and frosted head while a recession looms (thankfully, we’ve yet to see a feathered hair revival). In New York, rents are increasing, as are my grocery bills and dinner tabs. Yet there's something appealing about dressing as if I were a money-hungry corporate diva teleported from the past, or as my friend, the creative director Nikki Mirsaeid, puts it, “‘An eighties goth business woman.” Wearing suits and all-black looks is an easy way to feel put together (particularly when you work with cunty fashion girls on a regular basis), and it's also a way to stand out in a crowd. “I never see you in a hoodie and jeans,” publicist Gia Kuan told me when I showed up to her holiday party in a double-breasted Armani blazer. It's not that I don't own comfortable clothes, it's just that I'd rather no one witness me wearing them.
Dressing in a uniform can be constricting in other ways. As much as I love my black hooded Claude Montana sweater and fur trimmed leather coat, I felt a little too vintage last Saturday afternoon when me and my hangover arrived at the trendy downtown collective Lucky Jewel’s new store. Situated in the basement of an old tenement on Monroe street, the tiny gray-toned shop, renovated by the designers themselves, is precisely the kind of IRL shopping experience I’d been missing. There, among customized Capezio ballet flats and plastic cups filled with sparkling wine, the gorgeous Shay Gala talked me into buying a pair of too-big ultra low-rise trousers by way of showing them off on herself while Club Eat blasted on the speakers. The next day, the only belt that worked with my new tramp stamp-bearing pants was a bedazzled western-inspired piece I bought in Santee Alley the last time I visited L.A. Suddenly I was back on my Y2K bullshit, but when I paired the pants with a 1950s coat, it felt like something more. After all, the best looks blend eras and trends seamlessly, as every good party girl should know.