While I love Milan and Paris as much as the next fashion fan, London is my favorite stop on the fashion week tour. There’s a few reasons for that, mind you: I can speak the language, I admire all the young talent that is brewing there, and when I was in college I lived in London so I have a pretty good lay of the land and a good mix of fashion and non-fashion friends there. I also have a ridiculous amount of fun in that town. (Maybe too much?)

Liberty Ross was in London. Since the early 2000′s when she was gracing fashion magazine covers, I’ve always been a Liberty fan. Here she is in our friend Alison’s top hat at the Soho House

Kelly Osborne and Kate Moss stage left at the Kills performance at the Serpentine Gallery’s fundraiser

Backstage at the Giles show (which featured fabulous iridescent horse prints) with Dree, Katie and Cara

I loved this Kusama statue over the main entrance of the Selfridges shop on Oxford Street

Lovely Alexa at the New York, New York party in Mayfair

On the Saturday night of LFW, I hosted a dinner with Harley Viera Newton for Issa, which is partly owned by my buddy Camilla al Fayed. She had the bright idea to distribute novelty sunglasses, which for some reason was, like, the most fun thing ever. Here, Dasha and Camilla prove it

Pixie DJing at the Crazy Horse pop up cabaret

Arizona Muse and Amber Le Bon at a dinner hosted by Smythson at the Arts Club in Mayfair

Harley, my Issa dinner cohostess, and her brother Dean also getting into the novelty sunglasses

Alison at Anabel’s. I’m really into how her hair is starting to look like a tequila sunrise

Felix and Noor at the new club Loulou’s

Eva Herzigova giving 90s supermodel realness poses at the Smythson dinner

A few of us were late to the Mary Katzareanu show, so the PR’s dragged us backstage to watch it from there. Which was actually really thrilling. Though I’m sure we were in the way and they wanted to kill us, it was fun to (briefly) enter the scrum

Jonathan Saunders had his fashion show’s afterparty at Bistroteque way out in East London. But it was worth the hike because he introduced me to the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen: a margarita fountain

Sweet Cara

Michael Roberts and Hamish Bowles, two of the people I’ve always admired in this crazy industry, at Philip Treacy’s fashion show

Kate Lanphaer, who was my fashion week bus buddy, and Vanity Fair’s Elizabeth Saltzman

Dita von Tease at Burberry’s impromptu afterparty at the Box

Sophia pounding the pavement on Oxford Street

Lady Gaga’s seemingly unchoreographed introduction to the ridiculously amazing Philip Treacy hat show saw her come out in this pink shroud and then sit on the floor for the show

My favorite look from the Philip Treacy hat show because it reminded me of Eddie Murphy’s arranged marriage in ‘Coming to America’

Henry Holland at the Crazy Horse

Erdem’s show was beautiful, of course. But so was its setting, which was in this giant dome that looked beautiful with the shaded trees bouncing the light

Jade Parfitt and Daisy Lowe across the runway from me at the Giles show

Kelly Brook, who is apparently every English lad’s fantasy wife (and for good reason), chewing on her fancy and bedazzled iPhone cover next to me at the Giles show

The Kills performance at the Serpentine

Me, Liberty and Sophia at the Box

Fashion week is a busy time for us fashion editors. But a lot of the time we’re busy waiting. Waiting for shows to start and waiting in traffic as we traverse Manhattan’s west side between shows. This season, we at Harper’s Bazaar decided to put some of that waiting time to good use and discuss some of our fashion week highlights.

First up? Joanna Hillman and Sam Broekema dishing about the black lights and kinky boots at Alexander Wang and my St. Louis sister Karlie Kloss

Then Kristina O’Neill talking about Marc Jacobs, our night out with Mariah Carey and my really, really good friend Ricky Martin

Anamaria Wilson and I talked about Michael Kors (she had the best line: “He put the mod in modern”) and Vera Wang, Rodarte and Oscar de la Renta

And finally, Glenda Bailey, the editor in chief of Harper’s Bazaar, summed up the whole season for us

I’ve always said there are two types of people in the world: Those who take pictures, and those who don’t. Lucky for me (and for this here blog), I’m the former. Have a gander at some of my personal snaps from New York fashion week!

No big deal. Me and Mariah Carey on the first night of fashion week. We stumbled into Mimi outside the Carlyle Hotel after the Proenza Schouler dinner and she gave us a private concert with the jazz band in the bar. No big deal. (For more on this epic evening, read THIS.)

I’m very proud of my St. Louis sister, Karlie Kloss, who launched her Karlie’s Kookies during fashion week. Here she is, hard at work, with fellow models Toni Garnn and Cara Delevingne

Kate Bosworth and Olivier Theyskens backstage before the Theyskens Theory show. Kate and I were hard at work this season, doing a live feed commentary of Oli’s show. (If you missed it, you can still see it here: http://theyskenstheory.com/THE-SHOW/)

Naomi Campbell, who’s walk is still as hypnotizing as ever, with Zac Posen and Coco Rocha at the designer’s finale

The hardest working man in fashion, The New York Times’ Bill Cunningham, at Carine Roitfeld’s ball at The Frick

Another month, another Mr. Blasberg’s Best Dressed in Harper’s Bazaar. For the September issue, I discussed three of my favorite things: the return of a rococo movement in fashion, the rising dominance of the house of Valentino and the first ever mens fashion week (well, weekend) in London. My earliest fashion memories are based around the ornate and gilded looks from the originally Gianni Versace; lest we forget, when he was murdered I made a memorial collage and hung it in my childhood bedrom. (Want to see it? I blogged about it HERE.) And of all the weddings to I went this summer, two of my favorite dresses were Valentino’s, including Leith Clark’s, which you can see HERE. And finally, after spending so much discussing a woman’s wardrobe, I was happy to spend some time looking at things for me. Not to mention some quality time with Prince Charles, Tom Ford and the forever handsome David Gandy. You can see more from that weekend HERE.

Pick up the September issue of Harper’s Bazaar today to read this story, as well as my cover story on Gwen Stefani and an intimate portrait of the new queen of the art scene, Dasha Zhukova!

PS. I’m working on next month’s column now, so leave any favorite fashionable moments in the comments! And to read my weekly Mr. Blasberg’s Best Dressed list, go to www.harpersbazaar.com/bestdressed

For anyone who follows me on Twitter, this won’t come as much as a confession: I’m obsessed with RuPaul’s Drag Race. A bunch of grown men fighting over sequins and Spandex, being dramatic and lip synching to gay pop anthems? What’s not to love? So, for the third installment of L’Oreal’s ‘Hairspray Confessions’ series, I wandering into Midtown to find RuPaul’s Drag Race’s bodacious and beautiful Carmen Carrera. We talked about her favorite icons, her favorite hairspray, and what every lady needs in her closet.

A high fashion makeout session: Alexander Wang snogging Carine Roitfeld at the Frick

Givenchy’s Riccardo Tisci, who came to New York only for one night to support Carine, and my date for the evening, Karen Elson

Me and my favorite entitled teenagers, Harry and Peter Brant, Jr.

The man, the icon: The New York Times’ Bill Cunningham

Carine’s lovely daughter, Julia, who’s continued the family dynasty with a fabulously dressed baby, Romy

One of my favorite things about New York Fashion Week is that, socially speaking, it’s all over the map. I mean that literally: In an average day, one can find themselves going uptown and downtown a dozen times. This was very apparent on my Saturday night, which started uptown at the Frick on the Upper East Side and ended downtown at a gay bar called Eastern Block in the East Village. But more than geographically, the spectrum of purpose was wide too: Uptown was a black tie gala in honor of Carine Roitfeld and the launch of her much anticipated fashion book, CR. It was a decadent affair: all champagne and supermodels in one of my favorite former residences in Manhattan. Following that fete, I was racing downtown with Karlie and Joan for a fundraiser for Barack Obama at a dodgy gay bar called Eastern Bloc. I’m not entirely sure how I got roped into it (actually, yes I do: my friend Marjorie Gublemann, an uptown transplant who has decided to launch a DJ career in her 40′s), but it was an interesting concept: Gogo boys for Obama. And it was fun!

Check back at the end of the week for more of my fashion week snaps!

Joan Smalls and Karlie Kloss getting a little political

Paper magazine’s Mr. Mickey, who helped organize the fete; Marjorie Gubelmann; me; and one of our cohosts, Sean Avery

Another couple of cohosts, Karen Elson and Cory Bond, with Nate Berkus

A couple of Obama’s boys: RJ King and Douglas Friedman

Check back at the end of the week for more of my fashion week snaps

Oscar de la Renta with Jenna and Barbara Bush

The one and only Mariah Carey, lounge singer for a night, with me, Lazaro, Kristina and Jack, with Katie, Jessica and Tabitha unsuccessfully in the second row

I had a rather interesting, rather iconic kick off to New York Fashion Week yesterday. Iconic in the sense that it involved a couple of icons. The first part I expected: A luncheon thrown by the Fashion Institute of Technology’s Couture Council in honor of Oscar de la Renta. But the second half of the day, when a nightcap with a few friends turned into a private Mariah Carey concert, wasn’t on my official fashion week agenda. First, Mr. de la Renta’s luncheon. The big wigs (in some cases I mean wigs in the literal sense) came out to see fashion’s favorite fairy godfather, and not just the routine set of ladies who lunch. Barbara Walters, Henry Kissinger, Diane von Furstenberg and legions of perfectly coifed, bejeweled betties piled into the David Koch theater. The Mayor himself gave de la Renta the award, and proved he knows how to work the fashion crowd. “I only have two pairs of shoes,” he smirked. “So the only thing I have to be sure of is that I don’t mix them up.” He called de la Renta the Little Black Dress of fashion because he could never go out of style, and even did a little politico humor, claiming that the only thing anyone could agree on at the Republican National Convention was that Ann Romney looked great in her red de la Renta dress. Oscar was equally charming — no speech prepared, totally winged it, lots of thank yous – but did give one lighthearted dig about how so many untrained designers have entered the fold. “Today, if you play tennis and hit the bell well, you can be designer. If you’re a movie star whose star is fading, you can be a designer…” he chided. “I’ve been a designer for 50 years, and I’m still learning. And that’s exciting for me.”

A couple hours later, I was back uptown for the opening of the new Proenza Schouler store on Madison Avenue. Women’s store openings can be boring for a boy like me (it’s like torture to be around so many beautiful things, none of which I can wear!), but this store is divine beyond its merchandise. The progressive David Adjaye is the architect behind the project, and it’s as interesting to look at as one of Jack McCollough and Lazaro Hernandez’s chinesorie print kimono dresses. Following their store opening, however, things took an unexpected turn. A gaggle of us, including Jack and Lazaro, headed over to the Carlyle Hotel for one more celebratory nightcap before they went back into hiding to put the finishing touches on their collection. And as we walked in, there was a golden (Grammy winning) goddess before us: Mariah Carey. Truth be told, I knew it was her because I had Instagrammed her ride just the day before. She told us that, after kicking of the NFL season, she wanted a more intimate gathering, and since she heard that Woody Allen had sung at the Carlyle, she should give a shot too. So there we were in Bemelmans Bar, about a dozen people and a private audience with Mimi. It was a fabulous end to a fabulous evening, and a rather ridiculous start to what I’m sure will be a ridiculous week.

First it was Coco, and now it’s Iris. The legendary Iris Apfel, a lifelong fashion aficionado and champion of oversized jewelry and giant reading glasses, is one of my favorite people. She is the sort of quirky grandmother that one would only expect in cartoons. So, for the second installment of L’Oreal’s “Hairspray Confessionals,” I popped in on Iris on the eve of her 91st birthday to talk about getting older, accessorizing and a lifetime of collecting beautiful things.

Me and Celine backstage at the Colosseum, the 4,000-seat theater at Caesar’s Palace built specifically for the singer’s sold out Vegas residency in 2003

Backstage at the V magazine shoot

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During my angsty teenage years, I used to belt out Celine songs in the shower with the sort of gusto that will haunt the ears of my neighbors for all time. So when I flew to Las Vegas this summer to meet the Celine backstage after one of her sold out shows at Ceasar’s Palace, it took every fiber of my will power not to ask her for a duet. Instead, she sang a lullaby into my record for me to play for my brother’s newborn baby. The maternal instinct in this one is strong.

During my time with the best selling Canadian artist of all time, the most striking thing about the real Celine is that, well, there is no difference between the stage Celine. While I’ve met more than a few performers who are a much, much different person when their performing than who they are in their real lives, CelineDion is always Celine Dion. There is no line between the woman and the performer and the mother. It’s as if she was genetically molded by the French Canadian gods to do what she does.

When we meet backstage she is cuddling a cup of tea. She is open and honest and refreshing. No subject is off limits. On drugs in the music industry and Whitney Houson? “I’ve always been scared of the industry. Why? Because I think it’s a place where anything is possible. It’s a yes place. Especially if you have success. And then you think that you have family and friends, true friends. How come the love of a family is not strong enough to overcome?” She mentions Michael Jackson, who’s music appears in the show, and Amy Winehouse, but Houston’s passing seems to have affected her the most.] “I was just in shock when Whitney’s life had been taken because of drugs. It’s a big loss for all of us.”

On living her life for her fans? “I’ve been an open book all my life, and I think that’s why people like me. I’ve been criticized for it, but I’m not forcing myself to be the person that I am.” On sharing every part of her life, the struggles and the triumphs, with her public? “For me to be to tell someone that my husband had cancer, or that we were struggling to have kids, or whatever we’re going through, for me to be able to talk about my life: People know the real me. I’ve shared everything with them. They come for the whole package. I don’t think they just come for the songs.”

On her life today? “I thought I had a life before. But until I was a mom, I had no idea. Why would I want a hit? Why do I want to win what? There is nothing I can hope and wish for my career: I can just hope to be blessed as a mother for the rest of my life the way I am now. That’s the only nomination I want.”

I came to Vegas already a Celine fan. (In fact, I came only for 20 hours to see the show — for the second time — and meet the legend.) But a left awash in the Celine Dream. Sure, she’s a little cheesy. Sure, her songs are more Lifetime movie than independent feature. Yet, she is a force to be reckoned with. And I was glad I had the opportunity.

Read the full story over at Vmagazine.com

Read the full story over at Vmagazine.com

From left: Grimes, Grimm and Nick Grimshaw (also known as Grimmers)

As with most of my favorite posts, this one is inspired by my mother. New to social media (I can count on her to like every single one of my Facebook updates, be them very personal or outrageously trivial) and with that maternal desire to participate in her son’s life, she sometimes comes to me with seemingly obvious questions. A recent one: Is that cute English boy I sometimes blog about the same girl that was on the cover of the magazine I write for and on the new TV show about fair tales? Well, not exactly. But it’s a valid question since, I discovered, Grimmers and Grimes and Grimm all sort of sound alike.

But for her sake, and possibly for yours, dear reader, allow me to clarify. First, Nick Grimshaw is a London-based TV presenter and one of my favorite people on the other side of The Pond. He has curly hair and a jovial sense of humor, and I met him through our mutual friend Alexa Chung who has straight hair and a jovial sense of humor. Next, Grimes, or Claire Boucher as she was born up there in Vancouver, Canada, is a female recording artist. I like her because she’s young and fun and her music is a good mix of everything and, most importantly, she’s not afraid of a doing a high ponytail on the top of her head. You may recognize her (because my mom did) from the summer cover of V magazine. She was photographed by Sebastien Faena and Carine Roitfeld along with Sky Ferreria, another one of my favorite new musicians, and Charli XCX wearing Givenchy and holding pet rats. And finally, ther’es the new TV show Grimm, which just started its second season. To be honest, I never saw the show, but I love Grimms’ Fairy Tales, so I’m sure I’d like it if I ever get around to setting my DVR. So, there, I hope that cleared things up.