Last Night's Party: OK, Cavalli Was Worth The Wait

PARIS--In general, I'm a pretty impatient person. Which means if I roll up to a party and there's a massive queue, I typically just walk away. But I really wanted to attend last night's Roberto Cavalli 40th anniversary celebration at École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts. Probably because it's the first day of Paris Fashion Week and I still have the energy to do more than write. Also, Cavalli knows how to throw a proper party. I knew it would be good. At least the food would be good. So around 10pm, I left my hotel and headed over. As I walked up to the gate, I instantly knew that arriving an hour and a half after start time was a bad idea. Yet I was able to easily weasel my way to the velvet rope. They weren't allowing anyone in at that moment, but I assumed it would be soon enough.
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PARIS--In general, I'm a pretty impatient person. Which means if I roll up to a party and there's a massive queue, I typically just walk away. But I really wanted to attend last night's Roberto Cavalli 40th anniversary celebration at École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts. Probably because it's the first day of Paris Fashion Week and I still have the energy to do more than write. Also, Cavalli knows how to throw a proper party. I knew it would be good. At least the food would be good. So around 10pm, I left my hotel and headed over. As I walked up to the gate, I instantly knew that arriving an hour and a half after start time was a bad idea. Yet I was able to easily weasel my way to the velvet rope. They weren't allowing anyone in at that moment, but I assumed it would be soon enough.
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PARIS--In general, I'm a pretty impatient person. Which means if I roll up to a party and there's a massive queue, I typically just walk away.

But I really wanted to attend last night's Roberto Cavalli 40th anniversary celebration at École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts. Probably because it's the first day of Paris Fashion Week and I still have the energy to do more than write. Also, Cavalli knows how to throw a proper party. I knew it would be good. At least the food would be good.

So around 10pm, I left my hotel and headed over. As I walked up to the gate, I instantly knew that arriving an hour and a half after start time was a bad idea. Yet I was able to easily weasel my way to the velvet rope. They weren't allowing anyone in at that moment, but I assumed it would be soon enough. An hour later, I was still waiting. As I mentioned before, this is not my thing. But you know, it was kind of interesting. I saw about a gazillion celebrities, models, and top editors wander around the premises--Francesca Sozzani looking lovely and happy next to Italian actress Valeria Golino, Carolyn Murphy, Anja Rubik--all the while listening to crazy party goers try to get through the gate. People will say some crazy shit to get into a party. They will yell and scream. They will violently push. As impatient as I am, I just can't do that. But something--a masochistic part of my subconscious--kept me just behind that rope.

Then, luckily, a very kind, patient publicist pulled me out of the crowd. I was in.

And I must say, it was strangely satisfying. Probably because, as I entered the ballroom, I heard the few moments of Kylie Minogue singing "Can't Get You Out of My Head" as everyone drank champagne out of red goblets. (Apparently Minogue was paid an exorbitant amount of money to perform. Although I'm not surprised. In Europe, Kylie is as famous as Madonna.)

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There were tall banquets filled with berries, grapes, petits fours, and other sweeties. Everyone grabbing for the desserts seemed to be clad in Cavalli--there was lots of leopard print and gold sequins going around.

I ran into Bryan Boy, who looked fetching in a sequined Kenzo cardigan lined in fur at the bottom. Soon enough, Mr. Cavalli himself was onstage with Heidi Klum, thanking everyone for attending. Out came a massive 10 foot white and gold cake alive with candles.

Cavalli was followed by a DJ whose name I can't remember. (Karlie Kloss' friend was quite offended by the fact that I didn't know who he was. "He's very well known!" she explained to me. However, she is British, and the Brits love their DJs, so I will forgive her for judging me.)

When "I Gotta Feeling" by the Black Eyed Peas came on, that was my cue to say goodbye. But not before seeing Tyra Banks saunter out the door. "We love you Tyra!" Mr. Boy yelled after her with giddy affection. We do indeed. And we love Cavalli. Because who else is fabulous enough to make waiting in line for an hour worthwhile?