60 posts tagged "Daphne Guinness"
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.”
We hear that Daphne Guinness, she of the massive couture collection and the many rings, is set to collaborate on a new fragrance. We can’t go into details, but we can say that this will have most other celebrity scent launches beat. Don’t you just know that a woman with badger-stripe hair has a wicked sense of smell?
The big talk of the fashion world continues to be Dasha Zhukova’s editor-in-chief appointment at Pop. “I feel like the elephant in the room,” Zhukova joked to me of her attendance at some of the shows in Milan. Indeed, a sense of skepticism about Zhukova’s magazine skills has been apparent. “I’m going to be the next queen of England,” one member of the English fashion press snidely e-mailed me, while another joked that Kylie Minogue was in line to be the next editor of Vogue. While Zhukova is remaining mum on what she has planned for Pop—we’ll have to wait till September for that—she’s assured many that she’s not trying to cash in on the legacy her predecessor has established. (And lest we forget, magazines
do change: Before it was a menswear style bible, Details was a music rag.) Continue Reading “Blasblog: The Dasha Divide” »
As any fashion editor will tell you nowadays, it’s not a fashion show unless Kanye West is in the front row. The rapper/designer, who has been known to dabble in the fashionable arts—see Louis Vuitton, big orange kicks—hasn’t missed a beat at the menswear collections, taking on a schedule that would rival the editors that actually have to be there. On Sunday alone, the closing day of men’s fashion week, he hit Lanvin (“that was the jam”), Dior, Dunhill (“I’ve known Kim Jones from way back, and I’m glad to see my boy doing something good”), and Gareth Pugh’s debut men’s show, where I joined him in waiting for nearly an hour in the foyer of the Palais de Tokyo. That’s where he revealed he nearly didn’t make it to Paris: It turns out when he flew to Washington, D.C., to perform at one of the many inaugural balls (would you believe the tuxedo he rocked was picked up off-the-rack at Brooks Brothers that day?), he left his passport in L.A. That must have been some performance, because he managed to get a last-minute passport from State Department officials and hop on a plane just in time to make Raf Simons. West isn’t not going anywhere soon, either. At Pugh, he announced that he was happily staying in the City of Light for his first ever Couture fashion week. “I’m getting more and more inspired,” he said, adding that he’s already come up with a list of ideas for future pieces for more LV collaborations from the shows he’s already seen. But until then, it’s hurry and wait as usual—which, as any fashion editor will tell you, can be tedious if one can’t create forms of amusement. Perhaps that’s why Kanye and his seven-man entourage came up with “Fashion Battles,” in which they pit the most daring of looks in the audience against each other. (That’s why he asked for this pic of him and Daphne Guinness.) All was well and fine until one daring pair of young men showed up—one with his culottes pants tucked into platform YSL shoes, and his friend in a full-body leather look, resembling Milla Jovovich’s wardrobe on her Joan of Arc movie. Asked Kanye, “How can you beat that?”
You know it’s going to be a strange night when the party starts with the appearance of a giant white Samoyed, a live snake, and a five-foot-tall stuffed unicorn. Those were some of the goodies found at a treasure hunt hosted by Boucheron to celebrate its 150-year anniversary in London last night. Guests such as Amy Sacco, Matthew Williamson, Graeme Black, Alexandra Shulman, and Daphne Guinness were sent out in chauffered limos with cards bearing words such as “enchanting” or “curious.” Their mission: to come back with an item that best represented their word. Sound naff? Well, the incentive was pretty enticing: Each member of the winning team—Brit actress Rosamund Pike and Boucheron CEO Jean-Christophe Bédos acted as judges—received the mother of all prizes, a sumptuous piece of jewelry from Boucheron worth £25,000 (about $43,400). No wonder the winning Team Sacco was grinning broadly from ear to ear at night’s end.
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