Letting It R.I.P. on Halloween
With its unerring instinct for turning every event, from fashion week to Miami's Art Basel, into a series of parties, the style set has officially appropriated Halloween. Where once there might have been two or maybe three big dos, the whole weekend is now a nonstop marathon of costume changes and cocktail inhalation. Following Friday night's Lanvin hullabaloo, Saturday was loaded with at least half a dozen competing bashes.
What's one way to avoid the Manhattan madness? If you're Visionaire, bring everyone out to Queens. Cecilia Dean and co. held a celebration at MoMA PS1 for their upcoming issue about children's tales. The magazine had also helped organize Move, the weekend-long art-and-fashion happening at the museum, so this was an after-party of sorts. Standing by himself early on, Klaus Biesenbach, in authentic getup, including the walkie-talkie, made a quite convincing security guard; later, he fell into his usual role as the museum's very sociable director.
Meanwhile, over the river and through the wilds of the Meatpacking District's jammed streets, Purple magazine was throwing an epic Heaven or Hell bash at the Standard, where saints (arguable) and sinners moved between the shadowy haze of Le Bain and the lighter, more comfortable (in theory, at least) environs of the aerie formerly known as the Boom Boom Room. The hotel's owner, André Balazs, was wearing priest's garb and stationed in the carpeted purgatory between the two nightspots. "It's the right mixture," he decided, even if all the angel wings were making it a bit hard to get around.
Nearby, at The Smile's Jane hotel party, Carlos Quirarte and Matt Kliegman, who hosted with Nate Lowman, drew a crowd that included Mary-Kate Olsen (dressed as a bunny), Will Arnett, and Justin Theroux, one of the judges of the evening's costume contest. Amid the more attention-seeking creations, no one paid much heed to a tiny girl in a gorgeous, floor-length red gown and Kewpie doll mask. Well, even Ashley Olsen deserves a night off now and again.
Glancing at the crowd assembled for his Misfits Ball at Don Hill's, a be-horned Nur Khan said, "Man, I have no idea who's here tonight. It's impossible to tell, with the costumes." Over there—a seventeenth-century English aristocrat, dancing with Flavor Flav. That way, a corpse bride chatting with a guy in a kilt. In the corner, was that John Mayer? (It was.) Trick or treat?