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August 29 2014

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Blasblog: Dueling Parties In The Meatpacking

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In New York, location is everything. And that doesn’t just go for residential real estate. Manhattan’s chic set was very happy to discover that last night’s grand opening of the Griffin nightclub on Gansevoort Street was a mere stone’s throw from The Standard, André Balazs’ newest Manhattan venture, which played venue to the birthday party that Daphne Guinness was throwing for her friend, the photographer Steven Klein. That way, people like me (who are terrified to miss anything) could easily navigate between the two. First up was Klein’s birthday, which was not the easiest to get to: Partygoers had to take the fire escape up four stories, walk past a floor of hotel rooms, then take an elevator down one floor to the conference area. “I bet this was Madonna’s idea,” Kelly Klein teased. “She’s the only one who could handle this without breaking into a sweat.” (I took two rest stops and asked for Gatorade when I got to the bar, but settled for Red Bull.) The climb, however, was worth it: Standing at the top of the stairs was Ms. Guinness herself, in one of Olivier Theyksens’ out-of-this-world confections from his last collection with Nina Ricci. She was in those infamous platforms, too, of course; I was early to the party, and she told me she had already fallen once. “This was just a brown room,” Guinness explained of the decor, “so we had to pep it up a little bit.” Dance floor, mirrored walls and bars, and black leather couches? Check, check, check. She also did a little pepping up of the wait staff, hiring handsome boys and putting them in black eyeliner and tight, tight trousers. Just after the birthday surprise—more boys and doors parting to reveal another room—I made my way to the Griffin for the opening party I was supposed to be hosting with Amy Sacco, Julia Restoin-Roitfeld, and Sophia Hesketh. The Griffin is a proper nightclub, one with loud music, lots of booths, and bottle service. Sting stopped by, Giambattista Valli came straight form the airport, Dr. Lisa Airan (in Valli) came from the Cartier dinner, and who knows where Salman Rushdie came from. “We’re partying like it’s 1999,” someone yelled. “But literally, like it’s 1999.” For the record, in 1999 I was driving my father’s Suburban around St. Louis, Missouri, but I got the point: There was definitely an old-school rave feeling to the festivities. “Or is it Vegas?” Rachel Zoe asked. Regardless, when the night got late, everyone was ready to retire. Kate Hudson, still wearing her Cartier finest, put it best: “I got to put these diamonds to bed.”

Photo: Billy Farrell / PatrickMcMullan.com

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  1. jessiekthompson says:

    I think it’s only in NY that you can have not one, but two amazing parties – across the street from each other.

  2. countthezeros says:

    Olivier’s been fired again- have you heard?

    http://countthezeros.blogspot.com

  3. Appollonia says:

    I don’t know why these man freaks me out….brrrr…..

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