Fashion Week. The pageantry. The lack of sleep. The excuse to paint the outline of Brooklyn over my eye as a paean to 60s mod redux style. And of course, plenty o’ opportunity to meet and reconnect with fabulous arbiters of style based in North Brooklyn.
Saturday eve’s first stop was a swing by the Chictopia Vice magazine party at the Tribeca Grand Hotel. I spotted a celeb or two, including the deejay of the evening, Erika Forster of Williamsburg’s very own dream pop trio Au Revoir Simone. The crowd was chock-a-block with headbands and winged eye makeup. ARS fandom or part of the current Roaring 20s trend? I’ll let you ponder for yourselves (me thinks it was a bit of from column A and column B). In the meantime, let your eyes feel the fashion beat from this pic from the deejay booth.
My second stop: El Beit in Williamsburg to meet the girls of Stuff Hipsters Hate. Whilst we missed connection. we did connect IRL at Stuff Hipsters Hate’s book launch party at Glasslands. With other local luminaries, such as Shirley Braha from indie music program “New York Noise” in attendance, the night was definitely poised to continue on its flawless run—unlike the J train-induced misery I endured between the two locales, but whatever.
My dress, a Betsey Johnson purple crushed velvet number, my signature du month, was purchased at Peachfrog’s Sexy Saturday event several hours earlier, an appropriate 90s revival piece, if I do say so myself. Topped off with my also signature black toque. Stuff Hipsters Hate co-blogger Brenna Ehrlich said via text message of my ensemble, “You’ll stand out.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I responded.
“Please do,” Brenna texted back.
After more back-and-forth banter via text message about Glasslands bathroom location, I met with Brenna and her partner in hipster blogging-in-crime Andrea Bartz. If I didn’t already feel that their accurate takes on Uggs and tight-fitting sweatpants with fanny logos were worthy of the highest acclaim accorded any body of work since The xx’s album, the fact that they, like me, also studied in Chicago (at Northwestern) also earns them serious anti-Trixie points. If you don’t actually get that reference, falling short of a trip to Chicago fun-time establishment John Barleycorn’s, make hither to their blog for a definition qua non.