It was theoretically a "country western theme bar-b-que" event so girlfriend wore boots with her short skirt (?) and tied a shirt over her t-shirt (I don't know)...I wore ripped jeans and a regular shirt - the ripped jeans were my idea of "country western themed" since if I was livin' in the ol' west, I woulda certainly fallen off my horse several times a day, ripping my jeans in the process..
So we walk in, she air-kisses a bunch of peeps and twice kisses (one on each cheek) a bunch of other peeps and seeing that few people are dressed country or western, goes to her desk to change into the heels she brought in the event of such noncompliance. I followed her around like a puppy, her grabbing my paw once in a while when I assume I looked extra frightened.
We walk around, her saying "Hi" to assorted co-workers, as I checked out the crowd...and quite the crowd it was....
There were girls dressed like guys
Guys dressed like girls
Girls that were guys
Guys with more make-up than girls
Girls (models) paid to have their hair done higher than wedding cakes, and then walk around
Guy-servants who walked around with appetizers as if they were The Stepford Model-Servants walking a catwalk - all pretty expressionless - actually pretty and expressionless
A guy who looked like a male Annie Lennox (or a male Boy George) who seemed to bring his own photographer, who followed him around and took pictures
A woman, working for hip designer Heatherette, who wore a wig (presumably) that I can only describe as looking like a snake that ate four rats, five seconds btwn feedings - the hair alternated btwn narrow and thick for about 4 feet - she had her own contingent, I assume to tell her how fabu she looked (as I told my girlfriend, "Some people need security guards...others security blankets")
I don't know if the assorted characters used traditional spray-on hairspray, but if they did, there's a scientist this morning scratching his eyes and recalibrating his instruments becasue he refuses to believe the ozone layer got cut in half overnight.
At one point, my girlfriend was called away, leaving me to talk to her muscle-bound tank-top wearing client alone. The conversation went a little something like this....
"So you just opened a new studio in NY, huh?"
"Yeah, we opened one in Soho...you know where Meets (sp?) is?"
"Well, it's right over that. I live in NoLita, so I spend all my time downtown...I love it. Much better vibe than uptown. Where do you live?"
"Me? Well, I, spend most of my time at (my girlfriend's), on 24th and 9th...I live, quote unquote, on, ummm, 78th and 1st...but I spend more time here...as I, ummm said."
"Yeah, I'm off to Cannes this week to work on some projects over there...got a few deals brewing."
"Really? What kind of...."
"Then I'm flying to L.A. ..got an office there...have to deal with the network execs."
"I'm going to New Jersey this weekend...nephew's one year birthday party."
"Yeah, these deals should open up whole new avenues."
"I could use a new avenue."
"After that...I'm off to Rio for a little R & R
"I can't recall the last time I worked 15 hours in a week." He spotted someone he knew.
"Seeya." And he was off. I stood there with my now empty glass and tried to look cool. After 10 seconds, I started panicking and ran off to find my girlfriend.
Too humid to stay for too long on the deck, we walked to the floor where stylists were well, styling models' hair while rock music blared (Welcome to the Jungle seemed especially appropriate for several reasons) - quite frankly, I don't know how they worked with such a racket...
We made our way back to another floor when my girlfriend looked into a corner of the room ans said, "There's Stephanie Seymour."
"What? What?!? WHAAAAAT?!? Where!" I said, not so much as a question but as a demand.
"Over there...she's with XXX XXXX (I forgot his name), that's her stylist...he's associated with Bumble."
And sure enough, there she was....former SI Swimsuit model, Victoria's Secret Model, former paramour of Axel Rose, ankle-tattooed music-video vixen Stephanie Seymour. My girlfriend started rappin' with a few friends while I surreptitiously glanced over at Steph every 1.3 seconds. About the 739th time i did so, she happened to glance my way...our eyes met...not literally, that's kinda gross, but in a figurative, and I'd like to think, spiritual sense. In the .2 seconds, we came to an unspoken understanding...an unspoken understanding that said, "Sure, we are obviously perfect for each other, but alas, we are both taken...cruel fate has kept us apart until it is too late for us to act upon our feelings. Like a freshly made pot of porridge that was left to cool for too long and developed a thin layer of gross film to develop, so too...nah, bad metaphor....more like getting to work late on the one friekin' day someone brought in donuts and seeing chocolate icing remains on the bottom, so too have we come late to the party....not this party, I was quite early actually...where was I? Oh Nevermind."
The funny part to me is that everyone at or associated with Bumble I believe was allowed to bring one guest (hence my presence) - this dude brought Stephanie Seymour - he wins
The people all seemed pretty cool though I didn't have much to say to them - my usual line was something like, "Fun party...much different than my industry parties. We don't have models walking around or people with much hair for that matter"
"What industry are you in?"
"Oh," said like they were sorry.
The only person who didn't laugh at that was Michael, the owner whom I met when we were leaving. He looked like a cross btwn Mayor Bloomberg and Dudley Moore (before he died) - Continually adjusting the collar of his shirt, he was more than a little uncomfortable with the whole hosting thing. My guess is he probably started in Accounting.