I don't think I've had as much fun as THESE guys. But, I've had my fair share of going out this week and I just wanted to give you an update on what I've been up to. It's rather positive---rare from this old gal. Enjoy it while it lasts........

Dear Ethers,

La-dee-da.  I’ve been going out in this town called Holly-weird and meeting some very unusual people at some very unusual venues.  It’s really odd what I’ve been up to lately, and my life has seemed like a blur this past week.

So, here is my giant and glam update.

As mentioned, I went to this party thrown by shoe gal.  It was an Indian themed night and she hired local women who are brilliant chefs from India to cook massive amounts of the most amazing curries, meats, lentils (I could go on) that you could imagine.  My only complaint: no chuntey (what’s wrong with this country!).  Her house is a lovely home just off Rodeo Drive and is an Art Deco/Spanish style beauty from the 1920’a that is in impeccable condition and decorated with impeccable taste.  To add true Indian flavor to the night, she had a few members of the cast of Slumdog Millionaire (no, sadly not Frieda Pinto or Dev Patel) and gave beautiful embroidered pashminas as presents for coming.  I think the highlight for her was seeing Kiefer Sutherland in her home (she’s a huge 24 fan).  She sheepishly got the photographer to snap myself and another one of her friends with him (cringe-worthy—especially after seeing the picture).  He was actually really lovely.  But the weirdest person to show up was this bonkers Arab prince who brought an escort (no, like a 1-900-babe escort) and his bodyguards and I swear to god he was nuts and high on something and it wasn’t Allah.

The next night our new royal friend invited us out to a jazz bar he shut down for the evening, treated us to an amazing show of music and dancing and the most delicious food ever (the bill evidently came to $5,000 for 9 people, a very sneaky guest told us).  The champagne and conversation flowed and he, again, was bonkers.  From the shirt open to his midriff with chest hair bursting out and a gold medallion sitting on top of its puffs, to his toupee dancing as much as he did that night—it was certainly errrm, different.  He’s staying in a cabana in the Beverly Hills Hotel (it is to die for) and the room costs $4,500 A NIGHT!  And he is staying for 6 months!!!!!!!!!  I’ll just let you ponder all the nice things you could do with the money like I did when I first heard the numbers.

Then, last night, I had the most AMAZING evening.  I was invited to an exclusive Chanel dinner honoring their fine jewelry collection.  A very small number of us sat at a pre-set dinner on top of the boutique in Beverly Hills where the chef from Lucques made us a 5-course meal with wines to match each dish.  The room was dimly lit with Chanel votives scented with No. 5 and their signature white camellias.  When I went out for a cigarette, the balcony had amazing couches and the view of the city was sparkling.  The backdrop of the building was of dozens of double C’s lit in white.  Marvelous.  The best part was when the models, all donning Chanel, came out wearing the jewels.  All of us got to wear them and I sat with a 2 million dollar diamond collar around my neck (the center stone was 8 carats!).  I was so nervous that they thought I was going to do a runner that I kept looking at security reassuringly.  They gave us as a parting favor a rare bottle of Chanel Beige EDT which costs $200 (that’s $100 a ml!).

So all in all it’s been an adventurous week.  However, I feel guilty that English gent couldn’t join me for the festivities.  Shoe gal is really big on it being all girls when she invites people…….so he wasn’t invited to the party nor the jazz club.  Her attitude is, if she doesn’t bring her man, she doesn’t want you bringing yours either.  I like it in a way, because it allows me to mingle with potential new friends.  And in fact, I have made one or two new possible friendships out of these nights out.  I think if English gent HAD been there, I might have been attached to him too much and may not have been as gregarious and keen to talk.  It’s really nice having girlfriends and I like shoe gal’s philosophy.  But there is guilt that he is left home a lot. We are going out to dinner this evening and I hope that we will get a chance to catch up then.  But, the truth is when we are at home together, we don’t really do much.  So I feel when I DO get the opportunity to go out, I should take it.  Why sit home twirling my fingers when I could be out living life?

Besides that, I’ve got the normal worries about work.  My company that I freelance for just lost 500 employees which, as I mentioned before, trickles down to me.  Work will be scarce.  I really am so desperate to get on that oh-so-coveted ladder and have terrible anxiety everyday about it.  I want out of this house and freedom.    I want to have independence.  I want to know if I am building a nest here or not.  These are all very worrisome questions.

I hope you are all well.  I love talking to you guys.  It’s so nice to have a chat and be able to open up.  If you ever have any questions or if you ever want to open up yourself, e-mail me.  I love getting e-mails and you know I’m a comment fiend.  I can’t believe tomorrow is Fashion Friday!  Seriously, I feel like it was yesterday that I was snapping my leggings and star top from my last post.  UGH, I am so fat, what am I going to bloody wear for you people.  Good thing you can’t see back shots.  That way if nothing zips, I’ll be okay to still photograph myself in it.

Until my closet seeks your eyes out tomorrow.

Dedicatedly yours,

—One of 365

I swear to god, I think some of the rich assholes I've come across in my life, would, if they were sentenced to die, end up requesting a bespoke chair like this. They wouldn't DARE touch another filthy heathen's death throne let alone sit in it without it being a brand name. The people I've seen come and go throughout my life have been so superficial that when I couldn't measure up to their spending habits, they judged me not for who I was as a person, but who I was when I got dolled up or knew the right people. As soon as my credit card got maxxed out, so did our friendship. I keep falling into the trap of meeting these people partly because on the outside I look a certain way, but also because of the profession I'm in. This is why I keep my distance from people. Because at the end of the day, these fuckers will die peacefully in the electric chair as long as their shackles have shiny brass LV hardware emblazoned on them. The worst part is, they aren't even deep enough to care that they are about to sizzle. They'll just be pleased as punch to be going out in style.

Dear Ethers,

 My pal, uber celeb shoe gal is having a party tomorrow night and English gent cannot come. He’s about 2 weeks behind on a project that he’s doing freelance work for in the UK and it’s due Monday.  He simply doesn’t have an hour, let alone an evening to spare.  I’m really nervous about going alone.  Shoe gal has on her guest list people like Angela Basset, Johnny Depp, Halle Berry (and hopefully her man….grrr), Annette Bening and Warren Beatty.  She also has a lot of Beverly Hills elite (blechh) and very chi-chi designers, business people and friends (hopefully the normal people) coming as well. 

I really like shoe gal.  She’s fun to hang out with—alone.  But when she is in her element amongst the rich and fabulous she acts her role and it makes me uncomfortable.  I also don’t know a single person going and feel like I’m going to be the poor schmuck who is unemployed, not wearing Cartier and living at home with her parents.  

I’ve felt like this a lot in my life.  I went to extremely expensive and elite private schools from 12-21.  The kids were all children of directors and actors, CEO’s of major companies or huge real estate guru’s, or people that were serious investment bankers.  I always hated becoming friends with them because even though by global standards I was doing pretty damned well financially, in their circle I was always the poor girl who could never keep up.  I was never able to go out for $15 drinks, take taxis, shop at Barney’s, give expensive gifts, buy the pricey make-up.  They made me feel insecure and embarrassed.  And to be honest, it really wasn’t my fault.  I was proud of myself for putting my foot down, not spending money I didn’t have and never pretending to be someone I wasn’t.  They were the jerks who couldn’t understand the concept that maybe there were some people who didn’t fly in their Concord lifestyle.  By then, they dropped me—I supposed it was a good thing because they probably weren’t nice enough people anyway.  But, it always hurt because the process in dumping me was humiliating. 

My shoe gal knows that I’m just a freelancer but I think she assumes I have money.  I wear very expensive handbags (all bought for 50% off when I worked as head of copy and content at a very exclusive department store in the UK).  I wear expensive clothes (again, either bought on sale and then again marked down with my discount, or through my clever eye at TJ Maxx, outlet malls, mega-sales and savvy shopping).  I don’t think I’ve bought anything full price in years.  I’m starting to get the problems I have with her that I’ve always had with the other rich friends I’ve acquired.  She wants to go out to eat to places where the bill comes to $120 because she ONLY drinks Champagne and sparkling wine.  She shops on Rodeo Drive (she lives about a block from there) and she never even looks at the price tags at Chanel (she has a personal shopper there who knows her by name and brings her, yes, her favorite bubbly while she tries on $5,000 puffer jackets). 

Here’s what you should know about her.  She is 43, so almost 14 years my senior.  She was first and orthopedic surgeon and then became one of the top shoe designers, at least in America.  She came to this country at 8, fleeing from war and speaking no English.  This woman is brilliant and has made the American dream happen for herself.  She is a successful businessperson and she has worked damned hard.  She should reap the benefits of this—I’m not taking that from her.  But, it’s just getting hard to keep up.  I don’t want to lose her as a friend.  But when she calls me up and says let’s meet for a drink, she’s not talking about the local pub.  She means The Four Season’s Hotel. 

I have NEVER allowed ANYONE to treat me as a charity case.  I’ve had these rich friends offer to pay for me and I have always said no.  There are two reasons why.  1: I never want to owe someone because then they feel that they own you in some way. 2: I feel it has to damage the relationship somehow because the friend might start feeling resentful that they are being used for their cash.  

I had a terrible incident happen to me in London.  I had an extremely rich girlfriend of mine who came to visit from the States and wanted to go to the Light Bar in London.  A drink there is 15quid.  She was staying with me and wanted to take a cab and I told her that it would cost 40quid and the tube was free.  She was really angry and offered to pay for the taxi.  I finally gave in but was really uncomfortable.  She then got us into the Light Bar and kept ordering us rounds (there were two other friends she knew from London there as well).  I said to her that I could not afford more than one drink, but she kept ordering anyway and told me she’d pay.  I was gutted and miserable the whole night.  When the bill came, it was almost 1000 pounds.  All 3 of them took out their credit cards and I was the only person who couldn’t pony up the cash.  My “friend” explained, in a stupid, drunken manner, that I didn’t have the money to afford the drinks and could the three of them cover me?  I was devastated.  I didn’t speak to her for the rest of the next day and thank goodness that evening she flew home.  She and I speak on occasion, but the friendship really died on that night.  I swore NEVER to let that happen again. 

The problem with the business I’m in is that I’m either interacting with people who have large expense accounts or who are very wealthy.  I don’t actually hang out with fellow journalists all that often.  It’s not easy NOT having the green.  I want to be friends with my shoe gal, but I don’t want to have the talk with her that I’ve had with so many that has made me turn crimson—that I just can’t afford to go out with her.  

Again, the irony is that I come from a well-off family, and I would certainly not be considered poor.  But to these people, I am broke.  A hindrance.  So, I’ll go to this shoe gal’s party, put on a big, smiley face and pretend that all is hunky-dory in my life.  But inside, my heart is thumping and all I’ll want to do is get the fuck out of there.  Can you now understand why I don’t want to be broke with English gent and why I want so badly to be a success in a career and make money so that I’m not embarrassed anymore?  I know I should be confidant in myself regardless of what others think—but realistically, the world doesn’t work that way.  You’ve got to be able to pay the bills, not matter how lovely a disposition you have or how happy or in love you are.  I NEVER want to be someone’s charity case or anyone’s poor relation.

I’ll give you guys the details about the party as soon as………..

Dedicatedly yours, 

—One of 365

Welcome to the Vintage Valentino catwalk in L.A.! I promised you if I could take pics I would and so I'm here to deliver. I'm usually under a tight-lipped contract so I can't share anything glam with you guys, but because I went as a civilian and not a reporter, I could spill all. Enjoy the show

Dear Ethers,

When I go to any ritzy event it always has a catch—I have to work.  I hope one day to be able to attend a glam party or a wonderful opening based on the generosity of creative friends or because I have the money to afford to buy a ticket.  But as it stands, the only way I get into things is by covering them as a journalist.  It was much better in London when I was a beauty writer.  I didn’t have to deal with celebs at parties ever and when there was an actual party, not just a small tea, it was really contained and lovely. In L.A. it’s not like that.  The events I go to are like mad, “Girls Gone Wild” parties.  Often there can be sweaty, drunk dancing involved and celeb groupies.

On Thursday evening I was given a VIP front row seat to the Vintage Valentino show that was being held at Downtown Los Angeles Fashion Week.  Here in the States, L.A. Fashion Week is considered a joke (sad).  So I wasn’t asked to cover anything anyway.  But this lovely person had bought this ticket and at the last minute couldn’t go and I was the lucky tush that got her seat.  I love Valentino.  I own “The Last Emperor” on DVD and haven’t watched it yet.  But I think his clothes are spectacular and I felt honored to attend.  It was also going to be great seeing the red carpet from afar and lovely not to have to rush home and be up until 5am transcribing my interviews.

I didn’t have anything even close to couture, let alone Valentino couture, and I was sitting in the front row!  But, I had a hunch that this being L.A. and not the hottest of fashion meccas, that if I looked snazzy enough, I’d be okay.  So, I put on a really fab All Saints top that is very Westwood, did my eyes up in fab colors going with my Russian Revolution trend (Read Russian Revolution post for the hottest beauty trend this fall!) and did my hair so I could put in a peacock feather headband that went with my trend alert for hair adornments (Read “Tress-Chic” post for the hottest trends for hair this fall!).  This old set of digits didn’t look half bad

I’m not in the best state at the moment due to work anxiety and was really nervous about showing up to a party without anyone.  A lot of these folks knew each other or were in the biz and so I sort of wandered around aimlessly (though some people were very kind and stopped to chat with me about my top!).  L.A. is such a weird place when it comes to getting dressed.  I arrived looking very London I suppose, and they came looking like—I dunno—I hate to say it—but very…errrmmm…seductive.  The girls were either really blinged out or wearing skin-tight, short dresses with their business hanging out.  And the make-up—oh my god!  Talk about caked on!  It’s just a different beast out here.

Anyway, I was led to my seat which was in a prime location, and it had a goodie bag sitting on it (always fun).  There were Coca-Cola girls in red-sequined dresses walking around with trays of soda for our comfort and it was really laid back.  The opening act for the show was a Brit named Matt Goss.  He has a show in Vegas and he is like a funky Frank Sinatra.  He was amazing!  His music rocked and he had showgirls that danced around him—he gave 100% and it was brilliant.

Our lovely Coke girl and you can see the front row and the goodie bags!!!

I have never heard of him, but evidently he's #13 in the UK charts and has a big show at the Palms in Las Vegas. Anyway, the guy was great and his dancers were very sexy!

Then the catwalk show began.  I was so let down.  You’ll see by the pics what I mean.  Valentino must have a conservatory of clothes that would make any fashionista’s heart stop.  The woman who threw the fashion show actually had collected and owned all the pieces so I understand that Valentino hadn’t leant or chosen the clothes himself.  But my god, the choices were atrocious.  The theme was red and black (never a good move) and the era’s were a mess.  Some of the dresses looked like bad 80’s disasters that I’m sure Maestro Valentino wished never resurfaced.  And the way they were styled!  The girls looked like they were Christmas tress with ornaments on them. The models were so second rate.  They had bad skin, they walked poorly, their faces were “whatever.”  And whoever did their make-up—I could have done better!  It looked like they had grease paint smeared on as foundation with heavy red lips and heavy black eyes.  That’s so dated! The hair looked oily and matted—it was bad.  I saw all of the faces in the front row and everyone was in shock!!!   The show had 2 dresses that I would have liked—but not pined for—and in a fashion show—you should be drooling.  I’ll show you the dresses that burnt my eyeballs out of their sockets they were so ugly first and at the end of my post, I’ll show you the two dresses I liked.  Here goes:

I wouldn't have been caught dead in this when it was created! And the model--seriously?

I don't know if this was Valentino's take on a Spanish-style dress gone-80's but OMG! It looks like it is a costume. And so tacky!!!

I think if they threw some tinsel and some candy canes on her it would have been perfect! Ugh and look at her make-up.

I had to include this because I was wondering if Valentino was even trying when he created this and also whomever picked the model to wear this---did they not see it didn't fit her well? Oh, and I'm sorry again to be cruel, but does SHE have the face of a model to you?

The end of the show--thank god! Look how Goth and scary they look. This would have Valentino crying off all of that orange paint he has on his face!

Afterwards, I had a cocktail, spoke to a few people, had a person I knew from the media take a photo of ME on the red carpet with my camera (very funny) and I drove home pleased as punch that I got out and could kick off my heels—but gave the night a fair go.  I wish evenings like that were more common for me…just nice and chilled out.

If you’re wondering what was in the goodie bag, it was very disappointing.  The goodie bags in L.A. are so second rate compared to Blighty! Let’s see, there was a brand of skincare I never heard of that gave a night serum, wipes for your pet, a sample size of Paul Mitchell hair cream, foot petals for your heels and a CD from Matt Goss that I got him to sign for my brother.  I think they could have AT LEAST put SOMETHING Valentino in there!

Anywhooo….I’m thrilled to be able to actually share what a night out for me is like in L.A.  Leave me a comment to let me know what you thought about the show and that you agree the models are DIRE!  Enjoy and I’ll see you tomorrow with my own bit of fashion with a brand new “Wish List.”

PS: Here are the 2 dresses I liked:

I really liked this because of the layering, the material and the adorable cape. Do I think it is pure genius? No. But it is pretty damned cute and I'd dig it if someone bought it for me But really, it's the cape that makes it.

This is the only dress that said "Valentino" to me. It was his classic red. It was perfectly cut. It was feminine and elegant and wait till you see the back. This is a dress that would blow a man away when he opened the front door to pick you up for a black-tie affair.

You make a great entrance, but man, look at that exit. Your ass looks like heaven and your shoulders and back are stellar. This is an A+ and I'm not surprised they ended the show with this. Perfection.

Dedicatedly yours,

—One of 365