FNO '11: younger, drunker and six inches taller than I should have been
Growing up, I loved Halloween. You get to eat a bucketful of candy, pester strangers to give you things that they're required to fork over but are still annoyed by, and above all, dress up like a total goon along with the rest of the world. As we started growing and pretending we were adults, though, it turned into some sort of gross, kitty-kat themed meat market, where I was left in the corner dressed as some version of Tobias Bluth or Abraham Lincoln (not a joke) while everyone else was trying to find a lover who would inevitably leave a tutu or neon spandex on their bedroom floor after they slipped out the next morning. Which, as someone who likes cocktails better than kegs and hilarious outfits instead of costumes, is the reason why I love Fashion's Night Out so, so, so very much.
Maybe a story will come of it! Maybe it won't! Maybe I'll accidentally reenact a scene from Girls by spilling champagne on Allison Williams while she's at DVF! Actually, with me in heels, that might happen. I take that back.
1. Plan it like a drunken shitshow of a Saturday night. Pick a neighborhood, invite all your friends, focus on hitting two places first, and then just let everything else unfold. I may not know where I'll end up, or if I'll be walking on cobblestone streets shouting "ANNA! ANNA WHERE ARE YOUUUU" at the Wintour holy ghosts, but I do have a...
2. Backup Plan. Should Meatpacking be filled with cupcake trifectas — girls that smell like a cupcake, dress like a cupcake and regularly patronize cupcake shops — I've got a fall-back plan once I can no longer feel my face. Mine: Get off the train at 47-50 Rockefeller Center, and just walk up 5th Avenue or Madison, popping in every store and beelining for the free things. People may stare, but please, like you were going to buy a pair of Tod's slip ons tonight anyway? Moving on.
3. Don't bank on anything. If someone's selling food? Expect it to run out. If fifty things will be given away? Don't even bother. If Opening Ceremony at the ACE makes it sound like they're doing something dope, stop by if you're in the neighborhood, but trust, there will not be (enough) free drinks, and those cheapy-cheap Rodarte shirts they're telling you about look cheapy-cheap. I"ll scrawl "Rodarte Prom" on any of your old athletic gym shirts for free, you're welcome.
What can I say? My four years of being oddly dressed and hopping between frat parties at a Midwestern college prepared me for this. So, here's my unedited itinerary from a group e-mail with friends, mostly because I'm on deadlines and can't write "for real" at the moment, but also because I'm a lazy sack of shit and cannot find a classier way to say, "I have a three-drink tolerance but want to pretend I can survive a night of boozing despite likely falling asleep on one of Soho House's lounge chairs before the clock strikes 8." I'm also hoping I make it to this at the end of the night, because a screening of Versace's Spring 1994 runway show sounds way more legit than anything else.
(I tried to put this in a Robert Pattinson Twilight frame but it didn't fit. Next time, folks. Next time.)