Me and my cohorts at the boutique opening. From Left to Right.
Brittany DeBeers in Forever 21, YangaBang in Dolce and Gabbana, Gabriella in vintage, and My Melissula in Forever 21.
Nicholas Petrou, the designer I sold my soul to three months ago, finally opened his boutique on Madison Avenue during Fall Fashion Week. I was sweating bullets the whole day, dressing over thirty mannequins hours before the party started. But the minute the clock struck six, fashionistas, socialites, photographers, old biddies with lots of expendable incomes, and a smattering of b-listers, poured through the front door to fill their glasses with champagne.
Unknown male, La Lohan, and the Grubby Stylist.
But of course, I was mostly bowled over by Lindsay Lohan, who was rumoured to have a drop in shopping appointment. Anyone who reads anything about 'celebrities' knows that Lindsay doesn't show up to parties on time. The only thing I ate all day was a bagel, and by the time she showed up a half hour after the party supposedly ended, it was a bagel, six glasses of champagne, some caviar, and a few gin tonics.
But you're so orange!
I remember it all like it was yesterday...I was outside smoking a cigarette, and a huge black SUV pulled up, and then Lindsay jumped out. She was fast, tall, and orange. She rushed into the store with flashbulbs and an entourage trailing behind her, and then violently went from rack to rack to try on clothes.
Yeah, pick that up Mr. Designer. I want to try it on.
30,000$ dolllar embroidered sable jackets our team spent weeks putting together were tossed to the floor. Baby doll dresses with 200$ a yard parisian lace were rumpled and passed between her bottle tanned fingers, or to the hands of her grubby smelly stylist. And the whole time, I was taking pictures. I followed her like a hawk, snapping digital photos with the cam of my good friend and co-worker (also fellow Utahn incidentally) Brittany DeBeers. I was like a drunk, hot papparazzo. And it was fun.
A picture taken by the real papparazzi, on the above mentioned night.
Her boobs are actually large, and quite real. Don't know about that ponytail, or the eyelashes, or the tan. She walked away with a few pieces, but was on her way back from the Calvin Klein after party. That belt got her on a few worst dressed lists. She looks exactly the same as her pictures, maybe prettier. Her voice is still husky. All in all, it wasn't any different than getting bumped by Parker Posey coming out of Bikram Yoga. (That happened yesterday.)
