See me, Sophia, and Jenny before we needed spray tan to look alive… oh I miss it!
One of my last duties at Not Vogue was Fact Checking. I wasn’t supposed to be editing actual articles, but the copy editor had a nervous breakdown one week – she wasn’t allowed off the wait list for the new Chanel shopper, and everyone started looking down on her when they found out – and so I was desperately needed.
Marianne had a little laptop installed on the side of my desk, so when I wasn’t scheduling her meetings, answering her phones, ordering her outfits, or monitoring the security cameras in the fashion closet (newly installed since Valeria’s hasty dismissal), I could make sure every word in our latest issue was accurate.
This would have been fine, if a certain socialite hadn’t been a pathological liar.
For starters, she said she’d been born in Dallas, which was totally wrong – Dallas had no record of her birth, and neither did anywhere else in the United States. Then she told me she was an interior designer, even though nobody in New York (or Dallas; I checked) had ever hired her to decorate a house. Speaking of houses, she said she lived in Soho, but the address she gave me was the Alice Temperley boutique, and not a real apartment. I started wondering if she’d actually been born a man.
“Ava,” trilled Marianne from her office, “Do you have time to run to YSL for me? We need some shoes for the Ikeleine shoot.”
Of course I didn’t have time, but I couldn’t say no. So I jumped in Marianne’s town car – but not without grabbing the company cell phone and a print out from Google.
“Hello, ACME Detective Agency,” said the receptionist on the other line.
“Hi,” I answered, looking out the Not Vogue town car as we sped down Fifth Avenue. “I need you to do a background check on Socialite X for me. I’ll need a birth certificate, criminal check, everything. We can pay in advance.”
Ten minutes later, I had eight pairs of YSL stacked velvet wedges for Ikeleine stashed in the trunk, plus an extra box “as a thank you” for Marianne – their PR director knew her size by heart.
Two hours later, I had the info on Socialite X, who was in fact a former call girl. She’d slept with a museum curator two years ago, when she moved to town from South Carolina (which is definitely not Dallas!) and then wormed her way into his world. First it was an invite to the Costume Institute Ball, and from there, she was unstoppable – as most women who are beautiful, smart, and nicer than they need to be often are. It was like some part that Michelle Feiffer would have played in the ’90s, except it was real. I had three shots of Starbucks espresso before I told Marianne, and when I did, she pulled the spread.
“Damn,” she muttered, “I can’t believe you found that. How did you manange…? Well, it just proves it, you’re too smart for your own good. If only you hadn’t investigated, we could have ran the story, but now I have to fill three pages! Ugh! Maybe Natalie Portman is in town…”
While I called ID Publicity to find out, Marianne figured out a strategy: she would leak the entire Socialite X scandal to Page Six – it was way too salacious to run in Not Vogue – and trade it for some favorable gossip about our magazine (or about Marianne herself) in the column.
“Good work,” nodded Marianne, “but I’m never letting you fact check again.”
Then when the magazine came out, it turned out we’d said Gwyneth’s dress was a Matthew Williamson when it was actually from Dior. I almost got fired, and Marianne was so enraged, she took away my unlimited Starbucks card.
That’s when I knew I had to quit.
Back from Fashion Week burnout (phew! so exhausted), and I keep going back in my mind to the Marchesa show. I thought Sienna would be there and she wasn’t and I was sad, but I did get to see Rachel Zoe, who said (predictably) that her clients loved Marchesa.
I think maybe they love Harvey Weinstein, who funds Marchesa, and like the actual clothes, but nevermind – here’s the mystery: exactly who will get each piece of their new collection?
It’s too big for her, but my money’s on Nicole Richie for this gown – she can pull of the funkier patterns, and if she wears a ribbon headband in her hair, it’ll be a good compliment to the crazy waist.
Plus, you could totally hide Joel Madden underneath that giant silk train, which could come in handy during an US Weekly run in.
It’s almost that time… re-live our summer of love on Sunset Heat, then decide – is Sophia a born actress, or should she really finish college?
I’m sorry I’ve been M.I.A. lately, but Sophia’s been going through something really strange. Ever since she and Sebastian decided not to date (which, okay, was his decision…), she’s been so depressed.
I’ve taken her to 205. I’ve fed her Pop Burgers. I’ve even shopped the Bergdorf Sale FOR her so she could just look at my edited selection online and convince herself she really does need that extra Anna Sui dress, but nothing (NOTHING!) is working.
Today she sends me a text:
“Eva, am I stupid? Do guys only like me bc I’m pretty?”
But Sophia’s not stupid, no way. She’s just never needed to prove her smartness (smartness = not a word, oops) because she’s got charm and attitude and the best body since Sienna.
Then today Jenny calls me.
“Sophia came by today and said, “we’re doing some shopping.” I thought she meant we were going to Cynthia Rowley, but no. She whips out the NYU course catalogue and goes “If I go to night school, can I borrow your Miu Miu messenger bag? I want to take this course called ‘Creative marketing for the theater’ and it comes with a lot of books. Do you think I can handle a lot of books?”
Jenny told her to take the class. I called her and told her to take it too.
I don’t know why, but I suddenly feel very relieved.
My casting director friends are a little freaked out because so many girls aren’t allowed to walk this season – now that the CFDA implemented some new model rules, they’re restricted to girls 17 and up. I know that sounds ridiculous but in the modeling world that cuts out about 40% of the girls, especially for runway shows because they don’t pay as much (if anything), so the new girls are the ones who take the jobs.
Still, I think this is a major opportunity to go back to the models who are 25 – 30 – like KAREN ELSON! and Maggie Rizer, Alek Wek, Mariacarla, and my favorite, Devon Aoki. These models are even much MORE beautiful now that they’re older and past their skinny adolescent phase, and what’s wrong with women wanting to look like adults.
Seriously, that should have happened a long time ago. I mean, I’ve been wearing brown eyeliner to try and look more mature since I was twelve.
Check us out at Sunset Heat!
Thanks to everyone who keeps emailing and MySpacing me about my life in fashion. I swear, it’s not that exciting, but most of you seem dying to crash a fashion show just to see what it’s like.
So. I figured I’d tell you how. Try it and let me know how it goes…
1. Say you’re someone’s assistant. WHY IT WORKS: because the people manning the front of house at fashion shows are killing for important people to come. If someone less important gets sent in their place, they’ll still be happy. Pick the name of a well known (but not famous) fashion person. Be very nice and say you were sent at the last minute. But warning, this only works at SMALLER shows!
2. Pretend to be a model. WHY IT WORKS: If you’re tall and you can throw on some sunglasses and a trench coat, you’ll look just like Milla Jovovich. And if one of the models gets stuck in traffic, you’ll probably get to replace them, just like Whitney in The Hills!
3. Sneak in with a celebrity. WHY IT WORKS: Famous people are surrounded by so many stylists, publicists, US Weeklyists, etc., that they can’t keep track of whose legit. Walk in with the posse and pretend you know what’s going on.
4. Buy 10 cups of Starbucks. WHY IT WORKS: Because for dressers who have been up for 48 hours straight fitting models in their clothes and making last minute adjustments, quality caffeine is the best bribe ever.
WARNING: If you try ANY of these methods, make sure you dress incredibly well and also, DO NOT EXPECT A FRONT ROW SEAT. In fact, do not expect a seat at all – just be happy you’re in!
Inspired by this month’s British Vogue cover, I’ve decided I really, really want a purple peasant dress from Gucci…
Of course, that would mean giving up my other Spring ’07 dream of keeping my credit cards alive and well. So what do you think of this tunic from Tory Burch instead?
My favorite Sunset Heat episode (#3) is online now! Check it out!