It was a bitter sweet evening: Definitely one of the most fun book parties on my Very Classy tour, but also the last one. A few weeks ago in London, the lovely ladies Poppy Delevingne, Leith Clark and Alison Mosshart, along with the fine folks at Gucci, welcomed me to the British capital for my finale. And it couldn’t have been more, ahem, Very Classy. Drinks at the New Bond Street store, dinner on the roof of the Soho House, and then a wee dance at some basement dive bar in Mayfair. Here are some snaps from that evening. And now, I need to start another book so I can have another book tour!

Me and the Very Classy-iest girl I know, Emma Watson

Leith Clark and Laura Bailey

Edie Campbell

Alison Mosshart

Sophia Hesketh

Jonathan Saunders

Charlotte Stockdale and Katie Grand

The hostesses with the mostest: Alison Mosshart, Leith Clark and Poppy Delevingne

Amber Le Bon

Charlotte Dellal

Poppy Delevingne and Mary Chateris

Amanda Ferry, Jonathan Saunders and Arabella Musgrave

This was fun: For the May issue of V magazine, I went to the haute couture shows and kept a diary. It was the story of an American in Paris, and it was one of the most thrilling, decadent and fabulous experiences. Debating the merits and the existence of the couture shows, which now take place over three brief days and showcase one of a kind garments that can cost tens of thousands of dollars, is a typical conversation in the fashion industry. Some wonder who’s left to afford it, others wonder it’s validity as an art form. But as Daphne Guinness once told me, the haute couture is the laboratory of design, and should be fostered and nurtured. Which is what I hope we captured here.

Sad news today. Donna Summer, an undeniable disco diva, died at the age of 63. To be honest, I had never really thought much of Donna Summer. I was always a Diana Ross man myself. But when news traveled that she had passed, I was unexpectedly saddened. Turns out that more than a couple of my fashion memories had been done to Summer’s music, from the obligatory Studio54 soundtracks to listening to disco tunes with Tom Ford. I’ll never forget, two years ago, when she called Marc Jacobs on stage with her to sing back up when he opened the Louis Vuitton store on London’s New Bond Street. But perhaps my greatest Donna Summer memory happened in November of 2010, when she performed at a Tiffany’s event in Beijing. We had no idea she was coming on, and she rocked the house. This is a video of that performance, which obviously got me, Elisa Sednaoui, Eugenie Niarchos, Tatiana Santo Domingo, Olympia Scarry and Byrdie Bell on our feet. RIP Donna. Hope your disco dancing in the sky.

Don’t get me wrong: I had more than my fill of glamour during my brief trip to France this week. Karl Lagerfeld wasn’t messing around with the Resort collection he showed on Monday afternoon for Chanel in the gardens at Versailles. But also on my To Do list while I was across the Pond was the recently opened Helmut Newton retrospective at the Grand Palais.

Newton’s work was one of the first I became aware of when I started to work in fashion. Specifically, I can remember the exact moment, when I was still in college, assisting a stylist on a shoot, that one of the models was talking about a famous photographer he had just worked with who had just crashed into the Chateau Marmont hotel in L.A and died. It was Helmut Newton. (The crash and his death is alluded to in Sofia Coppola’s film Somewhere.) His pictures have been some of the most prolific, inspired and often copied in contemporary fashion.

One of the best books about Newton and his work is, appropriately enough, his autobiography, called even more appropriately, Autobiography. I just looked for copies of the book on Amazon, and it’s out of print, which makes me really want to find my copy. His story is interesting, starting in Berlin as a German Jew, then moving to South America, Singapore, work in Australia at Australian Vogue, and then back in Europe, first in Paris, and then finally splitting his time between homes in L.A. and the French Riviera. Working with his wife June, who has had an equally impressive if overshadowed career as a photographer under the alias Alice Springs, he created some of the most memorable fashion imagery of the 20th century.

His pictures were bold, scandalized and erotic. Often times, they were also very funny too. They were mostly in black and white, and they never shied from nudity, S+M and truly kinky, fabulous poses. He shot many famous people in some of their most iconic poses, and he made many models famous. Walking around the Grand Palais’ exhibit was a reminder of his work, from portraits of the Monaco royal family to Jerry Hall rubbing raw meat on her face. It was also a reminder of the undeniable influence he has had on the fashion industry.

I love this picture, which Mario Testino once paid homage to in an issue of Vmagazine. Ladies in their 70s fashion, and our of their 70s fashions

A portrait of Salvador Dali

Quite possibly the most iconic image of Charlotte Rampling

The Helmut Newton retrospective, the first of its kind in France, is up at the Grand Palais until June 17th.

It’s a lot easier for teenage fashion fans now. But when I was growing up in Missouri, tracking the comings and goings of one’s favorite models was a much more difficult task. We couldn’t just do a Google News search. Which is probably why there were so few supermodels in the 1990s, and why there are so many girls who can call themselves “super”now. No, back in the day, you had to be truly memorable: Naomi was the black one with the temper; Cindy was the wholesome valedictorian; Christy was just perfectly symmetrical. And then there was Linda, the dedicated chameleon with more attitude than a pack of drag queens. Some things have changed (Naomi is nicer, Cindy does furniture, Christy is still perfect), but Linda can still turn anything into a fashion show, and look fierce while she’s doing it. Even a trip to family court. The New York Times had a small-yet-fabulous story in the paper today about her court fashions, and I couldn’t have agreed more. Getting dressed for a trial isn’t easy (See: Courtney, Lindsay), but Linda does it effortlessly. Like I Tweeted last week, I was sad when she settled out of court over the weekend because it meant this runway show was over. I just hope Linda, who turned a whopping 47 last week, got the settlement she was looking for. Looking this good ain’t cheap.

I first met Charlotte Dellal in 2002, during my sophomore year of college when I was living abroad. We were wee teenagers still, but we had quickly decided that we were each other’s new favorite people, which is still the case today. We’ve had quite a few memories since then, like her Vegas-themed 21st birthday and then her over-the-top countryside wedding, and I’ve seen her grow into a beautiful mother and smart business women. Her shoe line, called Charlotte Olympia, is a fast growing, fabulous company. (And I’m not just saying that because she’s promised to name some of the upcoming men’s shoes after me. Promise.) With a best selling shop in London, her retail empire decamped here to New York this week, with her first shop on the Upper East Side’s Madison Avenue. To celebrate, we had dinner at the Monkey Bar. The best part of the night? The place cards, which were eponymous handbags.

Charlotte and I with our eponymous clutches. (And yes, I have always wanted my own novelty clutch.)

Elisa Sednaoui

Lauren Santo Domingo and her new clutch

Dellal with Le Baron’s Andre and Purple Magazine’s Olivier Zahm

Harley Viera-Newton

Elisa and me take our his and her’s version of the Charlotte Olympia cat slipper on a little tour of lower Manhattan

Ah yes, the weekend before the Met gala. It’s always a good one, when all these girls who have been starving themselves for weeks to fit into their ball gowns try their best to behave when everyone descends upon New York and tries to be good, even they though they ultimately fail. Mulberry did a dinner on Friday night where Llana del Rey performed (see Alexa Chung’s fan freak out photo below), and then in an interesting twist of fate Saturday was Cinco de Mayo. The weekend was capped off on Sunday night with Burberry’s W magazine dinner, which turned out to be an intimate, sedate affair since, well, these girls would be climbing the Met stairs for what is considered the East Coast Oscars in a matter of hours.

Alexa Chung and Lana del Rey at The Crown

Leigh Lezark and Cara Delevingne at a Cinco de Mayo party (which is never a good idea, and certainly wasn’t this time) at the Soho Grand Hotel

Kate Bosworth at the Boom Boom Room. She had better work that Jewelmint ring.

The forever gorgeous and gracious Joan Smalls

The forever handsome and hunky Noah Mills

Jason Wu and Jamie King on the roof of the Standard Hotel

Nicky Hilton and Emma Roberts

A Sunday stroll on the Seis de Mayo with future cookbook author Cesar Casier and Monster the Dog

Team W magazine: Editor in Chief Stefano Tonchi, contributor Giovanna Battaglia and Fashion Director Edward Enninful, at a dinner for the Frieze Art Fair and Burberry at the Bowery Hotel

This was a bold move on my behalf: Posing with two teenage supermodels. Me, Karlie Kloss and Cara Delevingne at the Bower Hotel

Last night, Mulberry hosted a dinner to celebrate the Frieze Art Fair’s first New York installation. It was an appropriately swanky affair: Held at The Crown, which is on 81st Street and 5th Avenue (nose bleed!), the dinner ended with a private performance from Lana del Rey, the newest Pop icon to have a Mulberry bag named in her honor. The singer, who was gorgeous and giggly and shrewdly styled, gave a heartfelt, beautiful performance.

The beautiful Kirsten at her birthday party in Los Angeles

I’m not sure if this will be the most amazing thing I’ve ever done, or the most disastrous. Right now, as we Tweet, I am putting the finishing touches on my birthday party, which is country western-themed barn dance at the Blasberg Family Farm in Hillsboro, Missouri. Somehow (I still don’t know how), I convinced a bunch of friends from New York, L.A. and even as far off as Europe to descend on my teeny tiny small town for the festivities. They have agreed to, literally, Meet Me In St. Louis. So, between bouts of anxiety, I’ve been prepping with Youtube videos of a teenaged and tenacious Judy Garland belting out the hits from the MGM classic to get in the mood.