It's November 1st in NYC and feels like its April 1st. Who says global warming doesn't exist?
It's also the day after Halloween, two days post-Halloween, and four days since I saw the first "slutty" cop on the streets (I wonder who the genius was who came to the realization you can add the word "slutty" to any costume and make it ten times as commercial). Although Saturday was the big night for parties, I decided I shouldn't be a recluse on the big day, so after watching a couple of sundance entries, I costumed up and skedaddled over to the Heidi Klum party at Happy Valley.
Now the man, woman or child who got celebrities to start hosting holiday parties (Heidi's Halloween, Britney's New Year's, Dennis Rodman's Thanksgiving, etc.) surely was a genius. Shove one of 'em in the corner and you'll have a hundred eager celebrity gawkers and stalkers circling the wagons like half-starved coyotes armed with digital cameras. Trying my best to avoid the fray, I hunkered down in the corner with some friends, and watched the circus (speaking of which anyone want to go see the big apple circus while it's in town? anyone?), which wasn't all that impressive. Mostly slutty nurses, slutty cowgirls, slutty soccer players, slutty snow whites, and their men. I did not stay long.
Instead I headed over to the Flavorpill party at Supper Club (which I recommend over the any celebrity sponsored event, not that anyone cares... or is even reading this). There the people were actually interested in people, cameras were flashing at friends, and inspector gadget was wandering around complete with a go-go gadget umbrella.
In my mind that was the best costume I saw, that is until I found myself sitting next to Space Ghost on the subway to work this morning.