The haute couture shows in Paris wrapped this week, and for the first time in a long time I didn’t register a depressing sense that we were witnessing the finale of some extravagant Parisian gala. No, this season, the couture seemed alive and well and abuzz! Shows like Valentino and Chanel were packed, beautiful, and, according to some of my friends who buy those sorts of things, orders were being placed and the tills were turning. Anticipation isn’t even the right word for the feeling at the Dior show, which was Raf Simons’ debut at the house. Fellow designers, including Donatella, Marc Jacobs, Alber Elbaz, Azzedine, Riccardo Tisci and DVF, all came out to see what direction the legendary label would move into now. For the record, I loved it. And further, while we’ve seen a few brands die off the couture calendar (We still miss you, Lacroix!), now we’re seeing some new names show up: Giambattista Valli is everyone’s favorite (especially Lee Radziwill’s, given her reaction to the designer’s bow at his show), but other designers, from Margiela to complete newbies like the Russian couture-shopper-turned-designer Ulyana Sergeenko, are sprucing up on the otherwise sparse schedule too. In a real show of pre-recession nostalgia, Donatella  showed the Versace Atelier show on the Sunday of couture fashion week on the pool of the Ritz. There were new faces in the front row and more than a few old ones too. Which is all to say this is good news for the future of the haute couture.

Words of wisdom for the models walking at the Valentino show. These words to live by were posted just where the models walk out onto the runway

Two hot Momma’s, Jessica Alba and Kelly Sawyer, taking a spin on the dance floor at Le Montana

Lana del Rey and Rinko Kikuchi at the Hotel Costes

Kirsten Dunst at Louis Vuitton’s garden party in the Ritz Paris after their fine jewelry store opening on the Place Vendome

Carine Roitfeld in the lobby of the Hotel Crillon

Alexa Chung and Sarah Sophie Flicker having dinner at Ginger

All hail the Queen! Diane von Furstenberg greeting some friends at the Dior show

What I loved about the couture shows this season is that it seemed there was a really smattering of all generations of stylish women. Two of my favorite fashion icons were front row at Dior: Stella Tennant and Charlotte Rampling

Bianca Brandolini and Vanessa Traina at the Giambattista Valli show

Milla Jovovich with her friend and music collaborator Chris Brenner at the Chanel show

Delfina Delettrez Fendi admiring some flamingos at the Louis Vuitton dinner at the Paris Ritz

Ginevra Elkann, Olympia Scarry and Vanessa Traina admiring one of Giambattista’s designs on the runway

A girl I’ve had too much fun with: Astrid Munoz at the Valentino afterparty

Jessica Stam and Rachel Chandler in the garden of the former Rothchild estate, where the Valentino show and afterparty were held

Elizabeth von Guttman, Alexia Niedzielski, Shala Monroque, Elena Perminova and Ulyana Sergeenko in the front row at Giambattista’s show

My fashion week companion, Vanity Fair’s Jessica Diehl, at the Ritz for the Louis Vuitton cocktail party

Alexia Niedzielski and Elisabeth von Thurn and Taxis at the Ritz

The Kills’ Alison Mosshart at the entrance of the lobby. It was a hot topic of conversation: Where are the rich people going to stay and the rest of us going to mooch drinks when this place closes for the next two years?

Speaking of the Ritz, how easily does (one of) my favorite entitled teenagers Harry Brant fit into the decor of the lobby?

Carloz Souza has long been the go to man at Valentino, a brand that has long had a family feel. Which makes it appropriate that his twin sons, Anthony and Sean, were the DJ’s at the label’s official afterparty

Anna Dello Russo walking into an empty gallery of the Louvre for Gaia Repossi’s dinner

Nicky Hilton and her mother Kathy on the terrace of the former Rothschild house in Paris

My St. Louis sister, the wonderful Karlie Kloss, with Peter Brant, Jr., at Le Montana

For the second issue of Garage Magazine, I did something I never thought I’d have to do: I listened, with a straight face, mind you, to a woman in her 80s so things like “premature ejaculation” and “kinky.” The things that I do for the sake of investigative journalism. But Dr. Ruth, to me, is a cult icon, and I jumped at the chance to speak to her about her non-traditional life. From Israeli sniper to television phenomenon to the world’s best known and foremost sex therapist, she has seen and said some amazing things. Read our conversation here:

Derek Blasberg: Let’s start at the beginning. Where were you born? Where did you grow up?

Dr. Ruth: I was born near Frankfurt on June 4, 1928, and I grew up in Frankfurt. I left Germany in 1939, with a group of children who were being sent to a children’s home in Switzerland. Later it became an orphanage. I was an only child, and there was no one else. My family was all caught by World War II.

DB: Do you ever speak about that time, that loss?

DR: Not often. I was in Switzerland from the age of ten and a half to sixteen and a half, when I went to Palestine. I lived on a kibbutz, which is a collective farm, and then I worked in the underground movement [for independence from Britain] as a sniper. So watch out! I can still put five bullets in a little red circle. And I know how to throw hand grenades too. But I’ve never killed anybody. I was badly wounded in a conflict early on, and had difficulty walking for a while. But there was a brilliant German-Jewish surgeon at the Odessa hospital in Jerusalem, and after I met him I could dance again. I could dance the whole night!

DB: Yes, I heard you like to dance.

DR: I do. I just danced with Wyclef Jean last Saturday. I still have moves!

DB: I read that when you were 13, a friend gave you bad advice when it came to menstruation, and that ignited a passion for education on taboo topics.

DR: She gave me scary advice, and scare techniques never work. That was when I decided, I’m going to give good advice. I went to Paris in 1951 and I ran a kindergarten while studying psychology at the Sorbonne. Then I came to the US in 1956, to check out an uncle – I had no family left except an uncle who lived in San Francisco, and I wanted to see if he was as short as me! I got a master’s degree in sociology, and then a doctorate [in education], in the interdisciplinary study of the family. With those degrees, I started teaching how to teach sex education. In 1967 I needed a job, so I got a position at the New York City branch of Planned Parenthood. I thought those people were crazy! All they do is talk about sex! They don’t talk about the weather, they only talk about sex. And here I am, talking about sex from morning till night.

DB: When did you become Dr. Ruth, the public figure?

DR: In 1981 I started a 15-minute program at a quarter past midnight on NBC radio called Sexually Speaking. Look what happened from that! I did the radio program for 10 years, and then I did 450 episodes of my TV show. I’ve written more than 30 books; I have one coming out next month on what women need to ask their gynecologists. I still go on television talk shows, and I have a YouTube account and I’m on Twitter. I am very connected, you see. I’m 83 years old, and I’m booked for the whole next year, talking about sex!

DB: Do you think your age and appearance are part of your charm?

DR: It’s a combination of my appearance, my way of speaking, and my knowledge. The timing was right, and I had the guts and the chutzpah to talk about things that no one else would talk about.

DB: Were you ever concerned about being too provocative with your topics?

DR: I keep a collection of turtles and I’ll tell you why: if a turtle stays in one place, it stays safe. Nobody can harm it when it’s in its shell. But if a turtle wants to make a move, it needs to stick its neck out. A turtle can only move forward if it takes a risk. I identify with that.

DB: Were you ever attacked for talking about sex?

DR: I was very fortunate. I didn’t have a demonstration in front of NBC or anything. But I was already 50, and people could hear how serious I was. And I used humor in my conversations. In the Jewish tradition, it is said, “A lesson taught with humor is a lesson retained.”

DB: What piece of advice do you find yourself giving to people most often?

DR: It’s a combination of relationship questions and specific sexual questions, like premature ejaculation, erectile difficulties, or women who cannot have orgasms. The most important aspect in a relationship, be it gay or heterosexual, is the relationship itself. If sex is engaged every week on the same day at the same hour and in the same position, then it’s very boring, and the relationship will go to sleep.

DB: Can a relationship stay together without sex?

DR: Not really.

DB: Sex is that important?

DR: Yes. Boredom is the biggest danger in everything in life.

DB: What would you tell a couple if they’re bored and no longer having sex?

DR: I would first see each one alone to find out what the story is. It’s not only a question of sex. Have they lived separate lives? Is there another issue? Do they hate each other? If I decide I can’t help them, I send them to a divorce lawyer.

DB: Let’s talk about taboos. Is there anything now that is still considered restricted?

DR: Sex educators need to know their limitations. If a couple walks in the door and they are engaged in sadomasochism, I send them to another therapist or a psychiatrist. Even though I’m fine with anything two consenting adults do together in the privacy of their own bedroom, or living room, or on their kitchen floor, the therapist has to be able to visualize what people do. I cannot visualize bondage and all that. A therapist also has to know that if someone is depressed, sex therapy won’t work. You have to send them to a psychiatrist for medication.

DB: So before you can treat someone, they have to be healthy in mind?

DR: Absolutely. If walking by a schoolyard full of children arouses a man, it’s not a sex therapy issue. I send him to a psychiatrist.

DB: Have you ever been asked a question that stumped you?

DR: The only one I can think of was a question about bestiality. I told the person I didn’t have an answer because I’m not a veterinarian.

DB: When you talk about sexuality, are you speaking from your own experience?

DR: Next question.

DB: Wow, that must be a sensitive issue.

DR: Let me tell you something: you will never see my children or my late husband on television or in pictures when I’m working. I’ve kept my professional life totally separate from my private life, and that’s because I talk so openly about sex.

DB: Is it difficult to keep them separate?

DR: Perhaps, but I’ve done it very successfully.

DB: Is there anyone that you wouldn’t speak to about sex? Would you talk to Prince Edward, whom I see in a picture with you on your desk, about sexual psychosis over dinner at Buckingham Palace?

DR: Yes, of course! Prince Edward I would talk to. But I would never treat anyone who is a friend of mine, or a family member. There’s a very fine line between those you can talk to about sex and those you cannot.

DB: Have you ever tired of talking about sex? Have you ever woken up one day and said, “I really don’t want to say the word ‘penis’ today?”

DR: When that happens I will stop. But don’t hold your breath.

Portrait by Douglas Friedman

For more from Garage, check out the magazine’s website

Swim time, baby!

I was a little late to the beach game this summer, but I made up for this weekend when I crammed Sunset Beach, Southampton, a garden dinner party and a couple of spin classes (which are basically the social cocktail party in that neck of the woods) into 36 hours of sunny Long Island fun.

Traffic? What traffic? The Standard Hotel offers a fabulous sea plane service that takes off on the East River and lands, literally, right outside Sunset Beach on Shelter Island. But don’t worry, Andre isn’t on every flight

Stuart Parr has this insane former Marine cruiser, and took us out for a spin

My hostess for the weekend: The lovely and amazing Hilary Rhoda. (FYI: I took spin classes with this lady, which was a real challenge for my self esteem.)

The happy couple: Andre and Annabelle Dexter-Jones on Stuart’s boat

On Friday night, Andre hosted a Harry Wintson dinner. After dinner, The Virgins, one of my favorite New York bands, performed

Cesar found a Birkin he could get into. Literally.

Nate, Marjorie, Christian, Cesar and Hilary cruising the town of Southampton

On Saturday night, Lauren Santo Domingo hosted the greatest garden party of all time. I love a good table-scaping

The newest Hamptons power couple: Marjorie Gubelmann and Nate Berkus. The lunch they hosted earlier that day was full of cheeseburgers, gossip and Cinnabuns, which are basically my three favorite things. (Fun fact: Did you know that Nate was an executive producer of The Help?)

Me and my fashion wifey, Lauren, after her lovely dinner party

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OK, this is a video of me in a tuxedo and tails ballroom dancing in a fantasy sequence with the Golden Globe winning actress Chloë Sevigny. No big deal. And yep, that’s Peter Brant, Jr. playing the part of a talkative, self obsessed waiter. (Type casting, surely.) It’s the directorial debut of the lovely and amazing Dasha Zhukova, the art museum founder and Garage magazine editor, too.

Now let me tell you how it went down: A few months ago, Dasha rang me up and said that she wanted to make a movie as part of the photographer Nick Knight’s ongoing ‘fashion fetish’ video series for his website SHOWStudio. She had a few ideas, and a few references, and wanted knew she wanted some dancing and a black and white fantasy sequence. I sort of thought she was joking when she said she wanted me to be the suavemente dance partner, but who am I to turn down a friend? (And a chance to dance on film with Chloë Sevigny? Or to do anything on film with Chloë Sevigny for that matter?) But, the next thing I knew, I was in a rehearsal space in Midtown learning my right foot from my left foot. Dasha is one of those girls who doesn’t mess around when she wants to do something. A couple days later we were filming, and now it’s out in the world, and I’m thinking of how I can campaign for a spot on next season’s Dancing With The Stars. I mean, if Heather Mills can do it, can’t I? Who thought ballroom dancing could have been so fun? (Now I regret not going to finishing school.) And at the very least, Chloë and I have a really sick party trick the next time we’re out together.

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Emma Stone wearing Pucci; on the cover of this month’s Vogue; in Elie Saab; in Burberry Prorsum

Alright, unlike Jim Carey’s very public display of affection to Emma Stone last year, I promise this one be won’t be creepy. Which isn’t to say that my fondness for the actress and star of this weekend’s blockbuster The Amazing Spider-Man remake isn’t as deep. In fact, my crush on Emma’s is the most virtuous there is: I think she’s super pretty and super stylish. (What else is there for a gay man to love?)

I know that Emma Stone has been making films for a few years now, but it wasn’t until last year when she really showed up on my sartorial radar. I never saw Superbad, and I didn’t watch Easy A until it was available on airplanes, and even that was within the last six months. I became aware of my new celebrity crush after everyone else did: After her Vanity Fair cover came out, when the Help was still in theaters, and when I was thinking about the best dressed women of 2011 for my Harper’s Bazaar Best Dressed list. (As my number one crush of 2011, she definitely made the cut. See her rightful place with the rest of the best dressed women here.) But since then, my fondness for the ravishing red head has only intensified. I now find her to be one of the most well dressed, appropriate, polite and, perhaps what is most impressive to see in this day in age when so many child actresses before her have fallen off the rails, genuinely happy and fulfilled young actress in Hollywood. (She didn’t even flinch when, a few seasons ago, people were doing vodka shots backstage at 10am at the Louis Vuitton show in Paris. Those people will remain nameless, but one of them has a name that rhymes with Shmerek Shmasberg.) Emma has been free of diva gossip or silly stories about demanding bottled water to wash her hair. And best of all, she has a killer sense of humor. Who else remembers that SNL Digital Short she did when she hosted the show in 2010? I stumbled upon that little gem when I was Googling my new crush, and was impressed that she made a silly song about a breakfast garnish and broken bones so much fun.

She’s been on the full court press and international world tour for this Spider-Man flick, but she’s showing up on time and she’s smiling. Which is impressive. Perhaps even more impressive, however, is that I haven’t found the endless stream of red carpet pictures, paparazzi shots of her leaving hotels and walking into morning shows, and countless interviews annoying. A good personality is one that you want more of. My own issue, however, is with her boyfriend Andrew Garfield. You can’t have it all, girl!

Emma Stone wearing Gucci; with her boyfriend Andrew Garfield and wearing Rochas; wearing Dolce & Gabbana; on the cover of Vanity Fair in 2011

My most favorite recent Emma moment? Her presenting at this year’s Oscars. Next year, I vote she hosts the whole thing.

Poor Lyle Maltz. The guy just can’t catch a break on his birthday. A few years ago, when we tried to celebrate his special day with a dinner in London, a friend got a text — as we were singing happy birthday and he was just inhaling the big breath to blow out the candles — that Michael Jackson had just died. Talk about kill. The next year, a good friend had a baby on June 25th, his birthday, and stole his thunder. And then yesterday, as we were getting ready for his birthday dinner at Macao Trading Company just below Canal Street (fabulous Porteguese-Chinese fusion restaurant), my brother called to say that his wife had gone into labor four weeks early. Argh! Usurped again! (And why are all these babies being born on this bloody day anyway?) Well, turns out Lyle’s perspective on the whole affair was the more births the merrier, and the night was fun filled and fabulous.

That’s my father, Bill, who is apparently feeling like a pimp in his retirement. Here he is with Karlie and Hilary

Sophia, Jen and me before dinner

A good St. Louis crew: Brian, Lauren and Karlie

Marni, Sharon, Nate and Leigh

Group shot: Karlie, me, Sophia, Lyle, Ben and my Momma

The birthday boy and his parents, Pamela and Dr. David

My friend, sometimes wife, and full time stylist Leith Clark can be described with a variety of P words. She is Prim. Proper. Precise. And I’d even venture to say Persnickety. She was married this weekend in a ceremony that was Perfect. (And for the record, the lucky man she married, James Hatt, is PrettyPerfect too.) I hope that the rest of their lives together can be as magical as the day they got hitched. Lots of love.

Female trouble: Mary, Luella, Valentine, Tennessee, Karen and Alexa

Erdem and me

The wondrous Karen Elson on the mic for the first song

The bride, Kiki and me

When I was a teenager and I decided to move to New York, I had a very awkward conversation with my mother about the sorts of, err, sticky situations I could get in when I moved to the big city. The general jist was for me, please, under no circumstances should I find myself in a situation where I’m undressing for some guy holding a camera in a seedy hotel room. Well, that’s exactly what the people at Mr. Porter asked me to do for their ‘The Way I Dress’ series. Which made me a little skeptical. But then when they said it was the same hotel room that Michael Fassbender filmed some of those epic-is-it-really-art-or-is-this-just-really-classy-porn from the film ‘Shame,’ which made me into it. So, what the hell, I did it. Here’s the video. (Please note: I’m using my sexy voice.)

In front of St. James Palace. I knew I was meeting Prince Charles that night (firm handshake, polite speaker, good jokes), which is why I thought there was no way around a three-piece suit.

Much to my chagrin, I missed the Queen’s Jubilee celebrations this year in London. (Which was maybe a good thing: Everyone I spoke to that was here acknowledged the occasion by going on a four day bender.) So I was only too happy to have replaced that Queen-ly experience with a Prince, and a bunch of fashion queens. This weekend was the first ever London Men’s Fashion Weekend, the British Fashion Council’s stab at creating its own menswear exhibition like the ones in Paris and Milan later this month. The festivities were kicked off by Prince Charles himself at a cocktail party at St. James Palace, where the Prince resides. He was an effective, endearing and amazing host. In an off-the-cuff speech, he laughed that it took him “65 bleeding years” to be called a mens fashion icon, and then ranted off on his knowledge of mens suiting and promotion of the British wool trade. “The cutter is a terribly important part,” he said of making suits. “If he doesn’t get it right, it falls apart. Literally.” Alright, Chuck!

The shows took off the following day, and they were mainly young designers that populate the colorful London fashion scene. I had a similar note as many of the other editors in attendance: Where were the big guns? Where was Paul Smith, and McQueen? Burberry did a few cocktail parties, but it would have nice to have been reminded of the titans of the British fashion industry as well as the young kids who make it so lively. It’s my anticipation that the big guys come in as the weekend grows into a bigger, better beast.

In addition to the shows, there were drinks. Lots of them. After all, this is London, a town that knows it’s way around a pint glass. But possibly most important there was a sense of excitement and merriment, which are so often lost in fashion promotions. I loved this weekend, and genuinely hope that it takes off. I’ll be back in January for the second one, and hopefully other editors and designers will be too.

Following the Prince Charles cocktail party, a few friends and I headed to (where else?) the pub for a pint. It seemed like the British thing to do

A fellow American: Tommy Hilfiger and his lovely wife Dee at a cocktail party they hosted at Scotch

One major label that did show during British Fashion Weekend was TOPMAN. Bright and colorful, they attempted to bring back from favorite trend from the 1980s: biker shorts. My friend Miles was in the show, and this is him backstage

Alexa Chung is one of Britain’s most fashionable exports, so it was only appropriate that she would be here this weekend. Not sure how appropriate it was for us to play in the curtains at lunch, but we did it anyway.

Favorite restaurant in London: The Wolseley. Three of my favorite women in London: Dree Hemingway, Katie Grand and Pixie Geldolf

Two of London’s smartest fashionable women, Lulu Kennedy and Sarah Mower, on Grosvenor Square

On the second night of the collections, Tom Ford hosted a dinner at the restaurant 34. I had the good fortune of sitting with Daphne Guinness during the cocktail hour. I didn’t realize until someone told me on Twitter that she was wearing the same Tom Ford dress that Gwyneth Paltrow wore to the Oscars because, with Daphne, whatever she wears is so completely transformed into her own world that it becomes her own garment the second she puts it on. My favorite detail of this particular look? I long gold necklace with a big lobster which she wore backwards, so it crawled down the back of the dress’ cape.

Vanity Fair’s fabulous Elizabeth Saltzman was at her friend Tom Ford’s dinner, of course. And the next day, Momma celebrated her birthday. Happy birthday, lovely lady!

The best thing to come out of Egypt since Cleopatra: Elisa Sednaoui, who I had the pleasure of sitting with at Tom’s dinner

The fine folks at the mens retailer Mr. Porter hosted a drinks party, and this shot, for me anyway, summed up the British method of celebration perfectly

My friend Nick Grimshaw was really happy to see this guy at Mr. Porter’s party. Apparently he’s a footballer, and he insisted on a picture with the guy for his father (an early Father’s Day present perhaps?). I’m embarrassed to say I don’t know his name, but he was super fit and charming.

Only for Katie Grand and the promise of avant garde knitted face masks would I wake up for a 9am show the night after a Tom Ford dining experience. But it was worth it. I loved the Sibling show

The Beauty and The Beast: David Gandy and 10 magazine’s Antony Miles. (And, for the record, he’s the one that titled this picture!)

I’m a big fan of Jonathan Saunders’ womenswear: Always bright, always cheery. (Which is ironic coming from a grumpy Scot! Ha!) And I’ve recently really gotten into his menswear, which are just as colorful and fun as his female counterparts