You know how they say that nothing good happens after 2 a.m.? Well, whoever came up with this has clearly never been to Fashion Week.
Designers, brands and nightlife players who capitalize on the revelry of Fashion Week are notorious for planning a surprise or two during their events, just to keep partygoers on their toes, and of course, to build some extra buzz. More often than not, said surprises come in the form of a musical guest. Alexander Wang might be the most skilled at this, and in the past, he's called upon the likes of Iggy Azalea, Busta Rhymes, Courtney Love and Tyler the Creator to perform unannounced sets at his parties. And if you made the mistake of heading home at a decent hour, you missed all of the excitement.
Our jobs here at Fashionista allow us entry into some pretty cool parties, but due to the nature of our work (read: starting to write at 7:30 a.m.), staying out all night is not only ill-advised, it's kind of impossible. While I try to power through and hang with the best of them, the desire to go home and catch up on sleep usually wins. This really bit me in the ass this season, so I decided I should share my story with you, lest you one day find yourself in the same situation.
Those who know me well can attest to my unabashed love of Diplo. (I realize that this likely very #basic of me, but I just don't care.) I was unaware that he was in town for Fashion Week this season, until I looked at party pics from the Galore event at Queen of the Night on Tuesday — the very one that I attended — and saw his handsome face pop up. I had gone home on the early side that night, around 1 a.m., so I was a bit disappointed that I missed out on seeing him in the flesh. But little did I know that FOMO would get way worse.
The next morning, I got a text from a fashion friend of mine that read: "Things got super ratchet after you left — we were dancing on stage and at some point Nick Jonas, Diplo and Skrillex were in the booth." Um, what? I was bummed, but not as bummed as I was going to be when I found out that the same thing happened to me the very next night.
To celebrate the near-end of Fashion Week, a friend and I headed to the newly opened Space Ibiza for the Jeremy Scott after-party on Wednesday. We waited in an avenue-long line on the otherwise barren West Side Highway to enter the club (thanks, party crashers) but we decided to stick it out — Scott's parties are normally a blast, and we both halfway expected his spring '15 collaborator Miley Cyrus to show up in nipple pasties and surprise the crowd with a performance.
At around 1 a.m. (my preferred time of departure, apparently) the open bar had long since run dry and there was no sign of Cyrus or any of Scott's other famous pals, so we left. Less than two hours later, Diplo and Skrillex had hijacked the DJ booth again, this time with A-Trak in tow, as well as fucking Madonna. While Madge made a quick exit, the DJ trio played to the crowd for over an hour. My Fashion Week was officially ruined.
I was pretty down the following day (I swear it had nothing to do with being hungover) and Steff cleverly coined a term for my gloominess: Dip-pression. While I was relatively well-rested and caught up on my writing, I would have gladly traded a day of booze-induced struggling with a chance to see my celebrity crush in a (sort of) intimate setting, and to blow off some much needed steam. Lesson learned.
So, ladies and gentlemen, I urge you to take away from my FOMO-inducing mistake. If you’re not going to go big when it comes to fashion parties, you probably should just stay home.