There was no denying that Prada’s launch party for their new Swing sunglasses collection at Joe’s Pub was the main event last night.
But to get warmed up, we hit up the alice + olivia M.A.C. cosmetics collection launch at Beauty Bar first. Though it seems strange to get a manicure in the middle of a party when there’s a significant risk of getting whacked in the head by an overstuffed bag or having a cocktail spilled on you, girls were lined up to get pampered. The party was chock full of models in tiny dresses, and as we made our exit, an over-tanned ex-model in the tiniest dress breezed past us smelling like Bath and Body Works. Why hello Kelly Killoren Bensimon! You are so tall!
On to the next.
Stepping into Prada’s party at Joe’s Pub was like stepping into the most fashionable jazz club. The lights were low, a jazz singer crooned, Angela Lindvall, the star of Prada’s fall print campaign and brand new Steven Meisel directed video, sat pretty in a corner by the bar, and models decked in Prada Swing sunnies and cone-head-like bouffant hair posed like beautiful aliens throughout.
We even got our Polaroid snapped with one of these beautiful Prada aliens, and seized the opportunity to find out what went into making that incredible hairstyle. She confided it took about an hour, tons of gel and hairspray, and there was a little doughnut-thing hiding underneath and holding it all up. Mystery solved.
A little after 10 p.m. and much anticipation, Nina Hagen, the “Mother of Punk” finally got on stage and belted out songs from her new album, and threw in a little Ave Maria, just ’cause.
Here’s what I learned about myself at this party: Prada is super classy. Me? Not so much. If I had known Prada was going to have the most decadent raw bar–oysters, jumbo shrimp, and, yes, lobster tails–in addition to passed hors d’ouevres, I totally wouldn’t have scarfed down that spinach artichoke (read: heavy cream) pizza and PBR on the sidewalk at Artichoke Basille’s on my way there.
Here is the disgraceful picture to prove it. I did have a partner in crime, if that makes it any less shameful (and I hope it does).
But I’ll celebrate Bastille Day with the Italians anytime.