There was a party last night and "one out of five girls were pretty and the other four were scary." At least that’s what my cousin said at the Marc Jacobs after-party last night at Eugene on the West Side. He was looking for a certain type of gal, and she’s probably not a fashionista.
There were the socialites in their fur jackets and cossack hats (cossack hats are huge during this cold spell), they stayed glued to their dates, who tended to have British accents and mussed hair; mod girls who clearly raided their grandmother’s closet; blond models who looked like Brigitte Bardot sitting their hapless boyfriends (who were probably the same age but looked about five years younger in their Abercrombie jackets and Levis jeans); Male models circling the room wearing beanies and bulky hoodies; a famous man in a pink wig and mime makeup; a couple of boys in dresses; fashion students who had clearly snuck in and stood in the corner watching everything with huge eyes; brunette model girls who danced with older men and looked a little wild; upper East Side girls with huge studded bags, wool blazers and knobby scarves–if you looked at them from a certain angle, they kind of looked like fleeing Russian peasants from the turn of the 19th century; My favorite guy was wearing a girdle, a vest with a fur collar and a beret, he kind of looked like Pavarotti on something illegal.
I also spotted Hillary Alexander and the most lovely Jennifer Smith Hale inside. After parties for fashion shows always have this crazy energy to them, like anything could happen. Which isn’t a surprise since they attract an up for anything kind of crowd.