The night after Diner en Noir, the Mr. surprised me with passes to a once in a lifetime event that blew my mind! Italian billionaire, fashion designer Giorgio Armani recieved the key to New York City and unlocked some fashion magic by curating a gorgeous couture retrospective that was launched with a spectacular runway show and celebrated with the best dance party I’ve been to in a looong time. It’s not every night this mama gets to glam out but when I walked into the SUPERPIER, a massive industrial pier from the 1950s, transformed into what the husband called, a chic department store, complete with soft peach and black carpeting, movie-set lighting, and optical illusion causing round mirrors, I felt like a million bucks! With my hair blown out and my teal suede stilettos heels, I was living out my 80’s excess fantasy on the West Side Highway!
We didn’t get to see the fashion show, but I wasn’t too upset! The runway viewing was for VIPs like Penelope Cruz, Renee Zellweger, Hilary Swank and Leonardo DiCaprio. I did, champagne in hand, spend the first hour or so browsing the Eccentrico exhibit which rivaled, if not flat out crushed the Met’s Alexandar McQueen display. My husband had to tear me away from the goods; I was so close, I could practically try on the clothes and accessories! Unfortunately, the lighting was so bad so my photos do not do any justice! I can barely begin to describe the remarkable designs that have made Mr. Armani, 79, a household name. My favorite pieces included a massive jade pendant and floral print pill box purse that attached to the wrist with a tortoiseshell cuff. When I think of Armani, I think perfect tailoring and structured, classic garments, but the exhibit told a different story at times. I was really feeling the groovy vibe -palatzo pants, backless dresses, fur and jumpsuits- worn by my some of fellow guests, too.
We arrived as the show was ending and just as the husband tried to pull some work strings to tour me around the inside of the runway setup, a handsome throng of well dressed Italian men made their way out of the exit, buzzing around a diminutive yet very tan and dapper Giorgio. The Armani groupie procession made their way down the carpeted hallway and into the lounge area where young models mingling with fashion bloggers and industry royalty, craned their long necks to see what the commotion was all about. Sitting down on a low banquette, surrounded by glowing orbs and his minions, Mr. Armani’s mere presence seemed to signal the after party had officially begun!
In the “dinatoire” area of the room, gorgeous waiters passed around perfect portions of truffle risotto, delicate ricotta filled ravioli, and seared tuna bites with caper berries. I was too excited to focus on food (though I did wake up regretting that decision) as I took careful bites, I cautioned to my husband ‘fashion parties are not for eating!’ He steered me onto the dance floor where Mark Ronson mixed Amy Winehouse with the Bee Gees and Tribe Called Quest as fresh faced ingenues taught botoxed editors how to ‘Dougie’. A matronly queen bee of fashion PR stood behind the DJ booth scanning the crowd alongside model Alec Wek whose wacky fist pumping made me giggle and boogie down. Being surrounded by gorgeous, fabulously accessorized fashion people can sometimes make you feel really inferior. But thanks to Mr. Armani, for One Night Only, spirits were high, the turntables omniscient and, amidst the free flowing bubbly and incandescent lighting everyone was feeling fabulous.