Poppy Delevingne with a Leggo Coco
Kelly Sawyer and Jessica Alba
Leigh Lezark, Rachel Zoe and Anouck Lepere
Diane Kruger and Caroline Sieber
Rosetta Getty and Jacqui Getty
Alexa Chung and Tennessee Thomas
Well, that didn’t take long. No sooner had I announced in a long winded discussion of my Non-Resolutions of 2012, one of which boasted that I had never been to Las Vegas and never had any intention of going, wouldn’t you guess that I ended up being talked into a trip to Sin City by Chanel? Not that it took much convincing; a Chanel party is guaranteed decadence. To confirm one’s attendance is to acknowledge an evening of indulgence and French flattery. Or, in this case, an entire weekend. They spared no expense: swanked out rooms at the Wynn Hotel and private jets, included. They even sent a lady to give me a pedicure, bless her heart. (On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being a goddess and 10 being a horse, she said my hoofs were about a 6.)
It all went down Friday night. First there was a cocktail reception in a special installation that celebrated the many things that had emerged from the rue Cambon. There were rooms dedicated to the house’s haute couture selection (many of which, Diane Kruger pointed out to me, she had worn), Coco’s iconography, the label’s constant celebration of technology and invention, and there was even one of those games where you have to use a mechanical hand and try and grab a prize. Following cocktails we meandered to a dinner in one of the Wynn’s ballrooms, which had been converted into a black mirrored box with seating for 200. Of course there was lobster. And following our meal, Imelda May belted out some tunes, causing quite a few tweeded out women to hit the dance floor. Alexa Chung and I gave swing dancing a try (fail), but our efforts were thwarted when a women began to do splits and headstands (impressive in a yoga studio, but not in a skirt on a mirrored dance floor).
I wish I could report that the festivities ended there, but it being Vegas and with me being born without any will power, we were commandeered to the 1OAK nightclub for some actual clubbing. And I mean clubbing. At one point I was standing on the back of a banquet dancing to techno remixes of Pitbull and Adele. I found myself amongst a group of frisky females who created some makeshift photo shoots in the lobby of the Mirage Hotel (one group shot is included in the Jump), but when they meandered into the casino I headed back to my hotel room. I had already left my dignity in the club, I didn’t want to leave my money on the craps table.
Leigh Lezark, Geordon Nicol, Jen Brill, Yale Breslin, Hanneli Mustaparta, Tennessee Thomas, Alexa Chung, Poppy Delevingne and myself (mysteriously?) on the floor of the Mirage Hotel lobby
Rosetta and Balthazar Getty
Imelda May’s performance
Alexa Chung nestled between my shoes, which are Yves Saint Laurent and fabulous