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!
When we didn’t like the fall collections, we got really drunk.
Well, not quite.
More like, Alessa ordered a stack of wine crates from Babbo and said, “I’m doing a story on white wine skin treatments, can I borrow Ava to help with the piece?” And Marianne would nod in a particularly sardonic way, which meant she knew I was being whisked away to my doom, and then Alessa would hand me a bottle.
The reason for white wine: we had $500,000 white carpets and about $5 million worth of dresses in the office. Spillage = death. So there was Alessa, her assistant Elle, and me were all crammed in the beauty closet. We spread out on an Hermes blanket we had no intention of returning – weirdly Hermes was always very relaxed about their samples. I still have a little Kelly bag somewhere under my bed…
Anyway, this being Not Vogue, none of us had eaten anything that day, so the equation went like this: three women drinking. each a size two. zero calories consumed before the wine. And that equals, totally trashed in about fifteen minutes.
Which of course, is when Alessa’s phone rang. Elle jumped.
“Not Vogue,” she answered, almost laughing. “Marianne! Oh shi – I mean, oh, she’s right here.”
“Nice save,” whispered Alessa as the phone was passed to me. Except I was so drunk, it looked like four or five phones were being passed to me, all at once. I let Alessa shove the receiver in my hand before feeling a momentary pang of jeal0usy – why wasn’t my boss that cool?
“Ava, I’m going to need you back immediately – Kate is coming in to approve her February cover, and you’ll need to receive her. Please rush to the elevators.” Wait – my boss was that cool, just not with me. Ugh.
“Okay, Marianne, I’ll be right there,” I heard myself say in a stunningly calm voice. Then I slammed down the phone.
“Guys,” I whispered frantically, “I have to go get Kate. Right now! KATE!” Then I tried to stand up, which didn’t quite work – probably because the floor looked like melted marshmallows, and Alessa and Elle appeared to be underwater. Suddenly my head was heavy and it hurt. This was not good.
I tried to take a step towards the door and I fell.
“Here,” hissed Elle, “trade shoes with me!” She pried off her pink Dolman flats and tossed them at me. In turn I wobbled out of my Vuitton stilettos and shakily stepped into the new shoes. “This is so a permanent trade,” slurred Elle, and I said a little prayer that she’d be too drunk to remember it.
Stumbling to the elevators I saw a blurry pillar of cheekbones and bright eyes – Kate.
“Hi,” I smiled, wondering if my head would explode before her bank account did. “I’m Ava, Marianne’s assistant. Why don’t you come with me?”
“Of course,” she answered very quickly, and very soft, “but first, is there any way I could get a glass of wine? The paparazzi followed me here and I’m just really on edge. Also, can I smoke in here? Thanks, love.”
I tugged Kate’s hand all the way to the beauty closet.
Then I stole my shoes back.
Dear models and wannabe models,
As of this Fashion Week, here are your new rules:
1. No smoking backstage.
2. No working past midnight if you’re under 18.
3. No walking in a show if you’re under 16
4. No fun. At all. Ever.
Notice how there’s nothing about “models must be bigger than Kate Bosworth in order to work”? I mean, who cares if they’re over 18 if they’re too frail to go down the runway!
Ugh, this whole thing makes me want some pizza… Jenny, you reading this?