Last Night's Party: An Artsy Evening with the Roitfelds

That Roitfeld family sure is a talented bunch. Mom Carine's gone from fierce Vogue Paris editrix to even fiercer freelance stylist-slash-author-slash-possible designer in one fell swoop, daughter Julia is an art director and sometimes model, and son Vladimir has made quite the name for himself as an art dealer and curator. Last night, the latter Restoin Roitfeld drew a well-dressed crowd to 560 Washington Street for the unveiling of Nicolas Pol's exhibition "Sick Avatus of the New Blood," a collection of acrylic canvases and sculptures that layered dramatically splashed paint with snippets of logos and slogans.
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That Roitfeld family sure is a talented bunch. Mom Carine's gone from fierce Vogue Paris editrix to even fiercer freelance stylist-slash-author-slash-possible designer in one fell swoop, daughter Julia is an art director and sometimes model, and son Vladimir has made quite the name for himself as an art dealer and curator. Last night, the latter Restoin Roitfeld drew a well-dressed crowd to 560 Washington Street for the unveiling of Nicolas Pol's exhibition "Sick Avatus of the New Blood," a collection of acrylic canvases and sculptures that layered dramatically splashed paint with snippets of logos and slogans.
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That Roitfeld family sure is a talented bunch. Mom Carine's gone from fierce Vogue Paris editrix to even fiercer freelance stylist-slash-author-slash-possible designer in one fell swoop, daughter Julia is an art director and sometimes model, and son Vladimir has made quite the name for himself as an art dealer and curator.

Last night, the latter Restoin Roitfeld drew a well-dressed crowd to 560 Washington Street for the unveiling of Nicolas Pol's exhibition "Sick Avatus of the New Blood," a collection of acrylic canvases and sculptures that layered dramatically splashed paint with snippets of logos and slogans. With curious titles ranging from the religious ("Virgin and Child") to the awesomely band-name-worthy ("Birthday Cake Felon") to the altogether inexplicable (anyone know what a "Bipolar Pouacroid" might be?), the bulk of the paintings had been purchased by evening's end. The exhibit's real crowd-pleaser, though, was undoubtedly the papier-mâché pig that occupied an entire corner of the gallery. Witnessing countless guests deciding whether it was permissible to step on the tarp-like cape that extended across much of the room (unavoidable in a packed space) made for plenty of fun--especially when wine glasses began crashing to the floor.

As for the crowd, it was an eclectic mix of art students, fashion folk, European socialites, and even a floppy-haired skater kid (who, yes, brought his board into the gallery to do a little cruising amidst the schmoozing). Newly-minted New Yorker Giovanna Battaglia was in attendance--we were digging her super-sheer black chiffon frock--as were Kate Schelter, Stefano Tonchi, and Stephen Gan. And, of course, Vlad's proud mother Carine made a cameo, chatting with friends and making a quick round before heading out--hopefully to continue working on the Next Great Fashion Label…?