Mr Blasberg
4:10 am


11/07/2014, From Elsewhere

It was a somber finale here at the haute couture shows in Paris. As I was recovering from four days of fabulous fashion and fetes, word came from Morristown, New Jersey, that Eileen Ford, the founder of Ford models, had passed away at the age of 92. To say that Ms. Ford, with her husband Jerry, changed the face of fashion is an understatement. Their modeling agency, Ford, was founded in the 1940s and revolutionizing the industry. Cosmetics contracts, cancelation fees, the word supermodel: The Fords did it all. Six years ago, I met with Eileen and Jerry at the University Club in Manhattan for a story in V magazine. (Jerry passed away in 2008.) By then, she could have passed as anyone’s sweet, sassy grannie. But I could still see the steely reserve that made her an icon in the industry behind the twinkle in her eye. Here is that story. 


Time magazine once said that Eileen Ford, the iron-fisted matron of the modern modeling agency, ‘was part pit bull, part den mother – and all business.’ Today, at a spritely 86-years-old, the founder of Ford likes to think of herself more maternal than canine (“I don’t like pitbulls anyway,” she says when reminded of the quote. “Couldn’t I have been a bijon with a bite?”). Delicately sat on a couch in Manhattan’s University Club – which she prefers as it’s, “across the street from my hair dresser, down the street from Escada and around the corner from Michael’s” – Mrs. Ford is perfectly coiffed and buttoned up in grey slacks and a navy cardigan with white knit piping; always within arm’s length is Jerry Ford, her husband of nearly 7 decades, business partner, protector and person she calls “the other half of my life.” These two people, both now frail yet fervent, changed the face of fashion. Literally. This industry has a habit of lauding its major players – so and so redirected fashion with a new cut or a fancy coat – but Jerry and Eileen Ford completely overhauled their industry, and the porcelain and lean features from which fashion hangs. Cancelation fees, collecting payment from the client and the model, weather permits fees and fitting fees – all of these were Ford initiatives. “Girls used to have to try on endless dressing for nothing,” Ford says in horror. The way Ford treated her models blurred the line between mother and manager. She redefined what it was to be an agent. As Time magazine put it, “She takes sugar and space and everything nice, and turns it into cold hard cash.”

DB: I’m told you modeled as a young woman, Mrs. Ford.

EF: Yes, for one month of the summer, for two years, when I was in college.

DB: I imagine its changed since then.

EF: Yes, today a model is paid. A lot! I got $5 an hour, which my father thought was a terrible sum of money for a girl, outside of being naughty. We carried hatboxes with our makeup and things. One was so proud to have a hatbox with an agency’s name on it.

DB: How did you get switch to the booking side? I read it started as a hobby for two girlfriends of yours.

EF: It was no hobby – it was a full time job. I needed money! Jerry was away in the Navy during the war, and when he came home he could go on a football scholarship to Notre Dame or play professional football for the Los Angeles Rams. However, I upset all those plans by getting pregnant. The agencies then were ridiculous, just terrible. No one got to the right place at the right time, and if you asked for a blonde you were sure to get a brunette. If going to college did one thing for me it got me organized. We had no money – he was 20 when we got married, and we were living with my mother and father.  So I started booking two models, each paying me $65 a month. It was 1946, so that was a sum of money. And then more models asked to come on board. Jerry, who had never booked in his life, started when I was pregnant. In those days you were supposed to stay in the hospital for 10 days after you have a child, but I was kicked out after five cause I tied up the nurses’ switch board booking girls from bed.

DB: Did you have any idea you would spend the rest of your life doing that?

EF: How could you? When you’re young you never look at the future. But everyone was unhappy with their agencies, so everyone came to us. We’d sit in the garden of my father’s business, at Lexington and 29th Street, with two phones. Daddy finally got fed up with us tying up his lines too, so we found our own offices on 2nd Avenue. We sold our car to pay the rent.

DB: Ford famously became a family affair. Were the models looking for a den mother?

EF: Sort of. They wanted a manager too. Some of them didn’t like it; like Naomi Campbell, who left us – four times. Christy Brinkley told us recently when she stayed with us she would come down in her pajamas and say she was doing laundry. When she’d get to the kitchen she’d change into her night clothes, put her pajamas in the oven, and know we’d be asleep when she got home. The models ate with us, they stayed with us, I would teach them manners if I needed to. We would go to the Met Museum and lectures, and to the country on the weekends. We were the same age at the beginning, don’t forget. We’d eat together, drink together, stay out all night together. We had a great time – but we’d average 4 hours of sleep a night!

DB: Surely there was at least one wild girl. Was Gia ever with you?

EF: Once, for about four days. Dick Avedon called us; we told him we didn’t want her, but he promised she was totally reformed. The first thing she did was not show to a booking, so I told her not to come back. She told me that she was in a car giving her dogs a ride or something – I have no sense of humor about that sort of thing.

DB: Indeed, you had little patience for misbehavior. You were mom, manager and booker.

EF: And their friend. If a girl found herself in trouble, I helped them, got them into rehab or off whatever they were on. I just found a letter from a model which said she never thanked me for saving her life. She had overdosed, and when I couldn’t get her on the phone I had the superintendent break her door down and shove her into rehab.

DB: Were you an active scouter?

EF: I’m still an active scouter. If I see someone today I’ll speak to them.

DB: You had a theory: “bones and body, body and bones.”

EF: I said that a long time ago. It’s still true, but now I want to amend it to include one other thing: she just has to be born to do it. It’s instinct. Jerry says, “God made models. But he made very few good ones.”

DB: What about personality?

EF: Let me ask you one question about that: Naomi Campbell?

DB: Hey, she definitely has a personality!

EF: She has had a few personalities. She could be a sweet as pie on minute — but you put up with so much more now than I could. I’ve always said we’ve raised a lot of people’s children.

DB: Do you think you defined generations of beauty?

EF: I think I verbalized it. I didn’t make a new look – Christian Dior made a New Look. But I have a good sense of fashion; I could put people together.

DB: Some of your competitors, notably John Casablancas, criticized your tenacity.

EF: Oh, if he said something unkind about me I said a lot more unkind things about him. More than he could think of. It’s such a different mentality, that French-anything-goes view. I loathed that, and I made no secret of it.

DB: Who are some of the photographers you loved to work with?

EF: Dick Avedon. When he used my girls it was a dream come true.

DB: And your favorite girls?

EF: From the beginning: Mary Jane Russell, we adored Suzy Parker; Jean Patchett was our Babe Ruth, the first one to hit it out of the park. And I liked other people in fashion too – editors Eugenia Shephard and Sally Kirkland.

DB: Do you know the girls working today? Do you know Gisele?

EF: We’re going to see Gisele next week, but I’m talking about the ballet. That’s as close as we’ve gotten. The only one I’ve met is Chanel Iman, and I think she’s a darling girl. We’re really out of it.

DB: Maybe you deserve a break.

EF: Don’t forget, I’m 86. But we’re still interested in the industry. I still check in and send my bookers presents. This has been mine and Jerry’s lives. Actually, it’s been our life. Cause we’ve only had one together. And it was this.




1:55 pm


28/06/2014, Fast + Louche



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It’s funny what you miss when you leave home, isn’t it? One of the reasons I was so desperate to high tail it out of St Louis after high school was because I was tired of long country rides, having to drive a car everywhere, fried food, long conversations with strangers, people who actually listened for an answer when they asked, ‘Howareyou?’ (That’s my pet peeve about New Yorkers, by the way. People who think ‘Howareyou’ is the same as ‘Hello.’) Now that it’s nearing a decade and a half since I left home, though, these are the very things I look forward to most when I come back to Missouri. Driving to my uncle’s farm in my Dad’s Jeep with the music up and the windows down and a fresh Imo’s pizza in the back? Heaven.

Last week started with my nephew and godson Will’s second birthday. It had a Cars theme and a bouncy castle, the latter of which had a 150 pound weight restriction, which only made me want to get in there more. (And, for the record, I did. No children were harmed.) And it ended at my Uncle Fred’s house in Hillsboro, which is a particular point of Blasbergian pride. Fred built the house with his own two hands with local woods and rocks. So what it took him three decades, looks fabulous now. He suffers from a disease called Ataxia, which we are still finding more information about, which limits him from some of our favorite countryside pastimes, like hayrides and flower picking and dips in the pool. But something tells me he’s happy that his hard work has brought joy to so many of us.

From St Louis, I figured I might as well hop up to Aspen for an event Chanel was doing for their Paris-Dallas collection. (That show, in Texas, was one of my favorite Chanel moments. For my diary from Karl Lagerfeld’s country western couture, click here.) I had never been to this picturesque town — truth be told, I’m a better waterskier than I am snow bunny — but I found it super charming. The people were nice, even the ones with recently plumped faces. And I was able to show off my equestrian skills. Not to mention I got to wear my favorite cowboy shirt and cashmere bandana in a non-ironic way, for once. I wonder if there were any other cowboys on the Rio Grande Trail who had a Saint Laurent kerchief around their neck?

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10:03 am


16/06/2014, From Elsewhere, General

Little known fact about me and Alexander Wang: We were both interns together at Vogue in the early 200o’s. Schlepping around Conde Nast wasn’t our only shared experience, however. Does anyone else remember Mango, the SNL character from the late 1990′s that could bewitch anyone with his odd (booty shorts? greasy hair?) charms? Alex did, and so did I, which is why I jumped at the chance to make a cameo appearance in a comedic film that Alex commissioned, which heralds the return of Mango. Chris Kattan is the man behind the Mango, and he’s without a doubt a comedic genius. Need a teaser? Check out the blooper reel.

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But now, for the entire Mango opus. (Go ahead and scroll to 5:42 to find my mom’s favorite part of the video, when Mango asks, ‘Derek Blasberg, why are you everywhere?’ Which seems to be a particular anthem of my mother too.)

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11:19 am


03/06/2014, Fast + Louche

Oh, Riri, what are we going to do with you? I have fallen in and out of love with Rihanna since she first hit the Pop music scene. (Though, her song, SOS, still gets me going on a dancefloor.) I would follow her on Instagram and then unfollow her. (But since she shut that down, don’t need to worry about it anymore.) Last night, though, I decided I liked her. She was both badass and adorable in her speech at the Council of Fashion Designers of America Award, and looked both glamorous and tacky. Her gown was made of a completely sheer club glitter mesh. Most importantly, she gave me the best line from a fashion party ever: To describe how she uses fashion as her defense mechanism, she gave the line: “She can beat me, but she can’t beat my outfit.” Genius! More about the awards? John Water, the film director and cult figure, was an amazing host. He was cynical and fabulous. Congratulations to my friend Joseph Altuzarra who won the Womenswear Designer of the Year award. Public School took home the award for menswear, and The Row went home with the award for Accessories. Another highlight was the reemergence of Mango, the SNL star of my childhood (more on that in another post), who my friend Kristina coerced into taking a picture with Anna Wintour. And meeting Ruth Finlay, the head of the Fashion Calendar. She received The Board of Directors Tribute Award, and the video that preceding her award, which chronicled her seven decades (yes, seven decades) in fashion brought a tear to more than a few people’s eyes in the audience. Which can’t be easy in a room full of fashion people.

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Captions, from top: Me with Mango and Alexander Wang; Rachel Zoe and Marc Jacobs; Blake Lively, Michael Kors and Heidi Klum; Naomi Campbell and Tyson Beckford; Chrissy Teigen, Vera Wang and Rachel Roy; Raf Simons, the recipient of the International Award; Dree Hemingway, Jamie Bochert and Gia Coppola; Mango and Anna Wintour; Hanne Gaby and Alana; Anja Rubik; Andrew Rosen and Diane von Furstenberg; Karen Elson and Lance; Leigh Lezark, Olivier Theyskens and Caroline Trentini; John Waters on the mic; the Traina sisters with Jack and Lazaro from Proenza Schouler; Will and Trey Laird with Scott Sternberg and Jessica Joffe; Tim Coppens, the winner of the Swarovski menswear award, with Daria Strokous and Tom van Dorpe; Joseph Altuzarra and Christopher Kane; my sweet Karlie; Stefano Tonchi, Giovanna Battaglia, Karlie and me; Joan Smalls with the Brant boys; Ruth Finlay with Tim; me, some Brant boys and Joan at the Boom Boom Room

4:14 pm

I Cannes If You Cannes: Glitz, Glamour and a Supermodel Birthday on the Riviera

27/05/2014, Fast + Louche

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My favorite part of the Cannes film festival had nothing to do with the city of Cannes. The festival, now in its 67th year, has become perhaps the most famous of the international film festivals. It is the stilettos and ball gowns to Sundance’s Ugg boots and fur coats. Though, for all the glitz and the glamour that it brings, it’s also adopted some less chic elements, like pushy sponsors, crowds, creepy old men and so many closed streets. Which is why the best bits are often in the other cities that dot the French Riviera. Like Monaco, which is where Nicolas Ghesquiere held his first resort collection for Louis Vuitton, appropriately inspired by the colors and plaids associated with the Grand Prix, Monaco’s most famous sporting event. Prince Albert and Princess Charlene, the sitting heads of Monaco’s famous royal family (Albert’s mother, Grace Kelly, was the basis for the critically panned film that opened the film festival a few days before) where the hosts of the affair, and joined us in the audience. As did the royal members of Ghesquiere’s fashion family, Charlotte Gainsbourg and Jennifer Connelly. But it was the town of Antibes that saw the most action of the Cannes film festival because that’s where two of the week’s biggest events take place: Vanity Fair’s annual dinner, which this year was cohosted by Giorgio Armani, and then a week later the AMFAR gala. Both take place at the famed Hotel du Cap, which is perhaps the world’s most glamorous hotel. It’s gilded, marbled and expensive as hell, and sits atop a long drive that leads down to an infinity pool overlooking the Mediterranean that looks like it fell out of an Old Hollywood film. During AMFAR’s festivities, this drive was decorated with Damien Hirst’s gold plated mammoth skeleton, which went for $15million at the live auction. The night after AMFAR, Topshop’s Sir Phillip Green hosted an appropriately glamorous finale: Naomi Campbell’s birthday party. The supermodel showed up in a fluorescent green, beaded and lace Versace minidress, and was lead in a chorus of Happy Birthday by Robin Thicke. Afterward, the party moved to a club called The Billionaire, which would be tacky in any place besides the Riviera. Because perhaps only there, tacky can be chic.

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Captions, from top: The view from the top of Antibes; Natasha Poly and I at the Vanity Fair dinner at Eden Rock; Jean Pegozzi’s inflatable orgy; me and Dasha in Antibes; Daria Strokous playing by the stairs; Karlie Kloss at Pegozzi’s; Milla Jovovich posing at Richie Akiva’s party; Karlie and Rosie Huntington-Whitley at AMFAR; Carine Roitfeld and Irina Shayk at AMFAR; me and Rinko at the Louis Vuitton show; Liya Kebede in the show; Nicolas Ghesquiere takes his bow; Elizabeth von Guttman and her fashion wifey Alexia, with Carine; Lui Wen at LV; A royal guard in the Monaco palace with Pat McGrath and Sara Maino; Nicky Haslam and Peggy Seigal at VF; Pegozzi, Sofya and Dasha at Eden Rock; boys being boys: The Brants and Brett Ratner with me at VF; Suki on the dancefloor; Sofya, Dasha, me and Fabiola Beracasa at VF; a charming beach pier in Antibes; the Russians at a Garage magazine party; when me and Riley Keogh met Conchita Wurst; the Hirst dinosaur at Hotel du Cap; Naomi Campbell on her birthday; a garden in Antibes; Jessica Chastain in the du Cap elevator after AMFAR; me and Paul Aziz; Milla and Chris Tucker; Stefano Tonchi, Edward Enninful and Riccardo Tisci at Naomi’s birthday; the Hotel du Cap at night; me and Jessica Chastain; Julia Roitfeld in the AMFAR fashion show; my friend Amalyne; when I tried to steal Natasha’s diamond necklace; Robin Thicke performing at AMFAR; Jourdan Dunne at AMFAR; Kati and Adrian; Margherita Missoni on the AMFAR runway, which raised more than $3million; Karlie and a fellow giraffe; feeling left out when Lara Stone and Karlie started smooching; Vlad and JT at Eden Rock; Sir Phillip Green with Naomi and her Studio 54 birthday cake.

4:49 am


19/05/2014, Observations


There are other people who knew Louise Wilson, the beloved and well respected fashion professor at London’s Central Saint Martins, better than I did. People like Stella McCartney, Christopher Kane and Jonathan Saunders, the British designers who she mentored. Or someone like Alexander McQueen, who she famously found as a student and helped scoot on his way to becoming a fashion legend. But in the many times that I was graced with her company, I was impressed with this woman who could command a room and inspire generations of creative young people. She was feisty and she was direct. She pushed people to their limits. Don’t just take my word for it, though. In the wake of her passing yesterday (she died in her sleep at the age of 52), someone passed onto me some encouraging words, originally written by Brian Buirge and Jason Bacher, that she had posted on a bulletin board in her office. I shall republish here as a most appropriate legacy.


And here, an interview she did for Nick Knight’s ShowStudio

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9:13 am


12/05/2014, From Elsewhere

This year, the Gagosian Gallery published a special edition Frieze newspaper. It’s an exciting venture that has unprecedented access to some of the art world’s most important contemporary artists, including Ed Ruscha (who’s work is the focus of the Gagosian booth at the Frieze Art Fair), Urs Fischer, Glenn Brown, Jeff Koons and Dan Colen. Richard Prince himself contributed his own prose. I wrote several pieces in the paper, including the one excerpted here on the opening of the Met gala. (See my Met gala pictures here.) I spoke to Harold Koda, the bigwig at the Costume Institute, about Charles James, the tortured genius that is the focus of this year’s show, and about Anna Wintour, who the costume center has been recently renamed after. And for good reason, according to Koda. Be sure to pick up a copy of the newspaper at any of the gallery’s outposts around the world, and at the fair. And, as always, for more information on our artists and upcoming shows, go to GG newspaper 1 Met-Gala-2014 Anna-Wintour Before Frieze, this week will be about fashion. On Monday, May 5th, the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s newly renamed Costume Institute will hold a star-studded opening for their show Charles James: Beyond Fashion. The gala, hosted this year by Bradley Cooper, Sarah Jessica Parker, Aerin Lauder, Oscar de la Renta, Lizzie and Jonathan Tisch, and Vogue’s Anna Wintour, has become known as the party of the year. High fashion teams up with Hollywood, all in the name of fundraising for one of the country’s most important museum resources for the decorative arts.

The real star of Monday night, however, is a man who’s name has been, until now, only familiar to fashion historians. Charles James (1906 – 1978) was the preeminent fashion designer of the mid-twentieth century, dressing high-society ladies in complex, revolutionary ball gowns and convertible separates. According to the Costume Instituttes’ curator in charge, Harold Koda, James’s skill transcended that of a fashion designer. “No one worked like he did. His constructions, his clothes, are outside of traditional fashion. He was an artist.” Indeed, the name of the show, Beyond Fashion, came from a title the designer chose for his unpublished, unfinished autobiography.

Thomas P. Campbell, director and CEO of the Met, agrees: “James considered himself an artist, and approached fashion with a sculptor’s eye and a scientist’s logic.” Before he died, James was aware his legacy would be the artistry of his designs – as opposed to just a name stitched on a fashion label – which is why he directed so many of his pieces to academic institutions, namedly the Brooklyn Museum, which kept in its permanent collection many of his most breathtaking gowns (worn by such clients as Austine Hearst, Millicent Rogers, and Dominique de Menil), until the Metropolitan acquired the collection in 2009. (James has been the focus of two large-scale retrospectives: at the Brooklyn Museum in 1982, and at the Chicago History Museum two years ago.)

In his professional life, however, James vacillated between celebrated artist and fashion’s ultimate pauper. His last studio was a derelict room in New York’s Chelsea Hotel, where he worked until he died amid much more meager circumstances than he knew at the height of his career. (This show features some partically completed works that were discovered there posthumously.) He was famously difficult to work with, despite receiving many awards for his work and retaining a top-notch clientele. “Hubris? Yes, he was known to be an egomaniac in many aspects of his life, and as a business partner, he was a nightmare,” Koda explains. “But he really approached the making of clothes as an artist. He would look at designs for decades. There are certains designs that he began in 1929, that he finished in the ‘50s, even after he closed his house. That’s truly exploring a concept.”

The show opens to the public on May 8 in a recently refurbished and renamed space of the musum: the Anna Wintour Costume Center. Naming the gallery after the legendary Vogue editor and current artistic director of Conde Nast was a no-brainer, according to Koda. As a Met trustee since 1999, and a chair of the Costume Institute gala since 1995, Wintour has raised more than $125million for the institute alone. “We have always been able to count on the support of one person, and that’s Anna,” Koda says. “We’re here because she is.”

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10:47 pm


06/05/2014, Fast + Louche

My thighs are aching and it’s not even 10pm and I’m already in my pajamas. Is this what a marathon runner feels like? Too bad my exhaustion is not from running 26 miles, but rather talking for 72 straight hours. Phew. What a weekend. It started with a birthday party my friend Tico threw me at his house and ending with the Met ball in New York. I’m happy I took some pictures because I might not remember it all otherwise.

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Captions, from top: Annie, me and Karlie at my birthday; Naomi at the Met; Olivier, Rosie, Joan and Rita at their table; Katie, Tabitha, Alexa, Harley and Karlie enjoying some sushi; Lily and Kristen Wigg, funniest woman ever; the world’s most glamorous couple, tom and Gisele; Toni and Jourdan; forever the hostess with the mostess, Lauren Santo Domingo; Kate and Stella on the red carpet; Jessica Pare fitting in perfectly at the lobby of the Carlyle Hotel; Katie, Lazaro and Carine; Tom Sachs and the birthday cake he made me; Atlanta, Jen, Laura, Sarah, Rebekah and Shoshanna looking like a tough girl gang; Dan Colen and Evan Yurman; Samantha, Marjorie and Jamie; the trumpets announcing the dinner; Jessica Hart from the back; Bernard and Matthew; Tico and Colby, my birthday throwers; Kate, James and Nicky; Karen and Tabitha and their trains; Max, Alex, LSD, Ryan, Caroline and Vanessa proving black is still the new black; Eugenie at dinner; Carolyn Murphy giving me over the shoulder; Zoe Kravitz, a lady in red; Jessica and Stavros; Arizona on her way out of the museum; Mr Testino in his tails and decorations; Brooke Candy on the roof of the Standard Hotel; Margherita and Coco; Blake Lively and Bee Shaffer taking the train into dinner; me and Taylor Swift

9:54 am


24/04/2014, Fast + Louche
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First, a little background: The Brown Shoe Company is based in St Louis. And as a self appointed cultural mayor of the Midwest city, it was my duty to go downtown last night to celebrate the company’s 100th Anniversary of the company, which was one of the very first to join the New York stock market. (I wasn’t the only one from the Lou who was down there either. Nelly, of St Lunatics and ‘Hot in Here’ fame, was also in attendance.) But what I didn’t expect at the bash was the performance from Jennifer Hudson. The Academy Award winning American Idol semi finalist waltzed onto stage singing, and by the end of her performance had the entire room gobsmacked. This was no cocktail fair. Effie White was back, and she brought the place down. I was in the DJ booth when she started, so I managed to sneak over to the side of the stage to steal this video. Doing St Louis proud!

10:22 pm


14/04/2014, Fast + Louche

If I had to make a list of my least favorite things, these three would be on the top: sunburns, large groups, and lines that snake through metal barricades. But perhaps the thing I like the least – and something that my therapist (if I had a therapist, that is) would have a field day with – is missing out. So, when my friend Poppy Delevingne invited me to celebrate her bachelorette party, or hen party as the English call it, at the Coachella music festival, I vacillated on the subject. I’ve never done Coachella before. All those girls in tiny denim shorts and boys with farmers tans, a large portion of which seem to be under the influence of some mind altering substances? Not for me. But, I rationed, is this my one chance to experience Southern California’s largest outdoor music festival? After all, every year I get a little older, and no one wants to see the creepy old dude rocking out in the back of the lawn.

So, I went. And I’m happy I did. My first and most likely last Coachella experience was a rewarding one. It combined the joys of celebrating the last few moments of unmarried bliss of a close friend with the enjoyment of some of Pop music’s biggest acts. Beyonce made a surprise appearance when her sister Solange performed. Pharrell wore the hat. Again. I fell in love with Lorde. Again. Outkaste was pretty good. Calvin Harris was really good. Alexander Wang’s party had a set from Iggy Azaela, followed by Major Lazer; Jeremy Scott’s party was in Frank Sinatra’s old Palm Springs pad and I had a dance off with a freshly bobbed and blonded Zoe Kravitz. And, oh, my friend’s bachelorette party was like the adult version of my favorite high school pool party: We ate too much, drank spiked punch, played on inflatable animals in the pool, unintentionally stole each other’s sunglasses, and didn’t get enough sleep. In fact, I plan on recovering from the weekend just in time for Poppy’s wedding next month.

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Captions, from top: Cara, Poppy and Sienna at the bachelorette party; Alexander Skarsgaard and me; sunset in Palm Springs; Michael Polish and Kate Bosworth; a live set from Major Lazer; Rosie, Fergie and me; nightfall at the festival; Poppy’s crown, which I stole (sorry, Poppy); me and Kate; Michael, Noah and Alex; Conrad and his girlfriend with Petey, Gabriella and Gaby; poolside giggles; Cara about to leap on an inflatable; Caroline de Maigret at Alex’s party; Lily and Poppy showing off their locks on the dancefloor; Rita Ora at Frank Sinatra’s house; and a final shot on the way home