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Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Spooner-Fed, Part II

Guest blogger Casey Spooner...

You never know where the day will take you and yesterday was no exception. It was a beautiful day in the city and I spent way too much time on the phone, but much of it was in the park by the and in the sun. Did anyone else see those fighter jets fly over? The picture-perfect weather and the fighter jets really brought back memories of 9/11. And I had a terrible thought, if the Republicans really wanted to get McCain in office, all they need to do is stage another terrorist attack on American soil in between now and election day.

Now on to Fashion Week. I started my evening at my friend Mona's show, A Detacher. She made my first costume for Fischerspooner back in the day. It was a very elegant show and it was good to see old friends and beautiful, well-made clothes. Mariko Mori, Threeasfour and Cindy Greene from Libertine were all there. Then I raced down to the Speigeltent for a Boucheron event that included a private performance of the show Desire. I am sad to say that even though the acrobats were great and very skilled, the entire production added up to a rather dull affair. But I was just killing time until the main event of the evening, and probably of the week...

With the Marc Jacobs show normally running an hour or two late, I decided to go on the early side, an hour after the scheduled show time. But I didn't get the memo! The show started twenty minutes after show time and I was met with a legion of security thugs laughing at my late ass. Super fashion bummer. I shrugged it off and headed to Marc's after-party at the Greenwich Hotel, but it was a fucking zombie scene of hungry revelers. I tried to hustle in the back but lost interest. I decided to just enjoy myself and go to Mr. Chow's for a snack and beverage at the bar. But for some strange reason they would not seat me at that bar, only at a table. This irked me and I wandered out into the lovely evening where I ran into Jake Shears on the street. I ended up hanging out at his house, coveting his new sofa, having great conversation and drinking Campari until 3 am. Sorry I didn't make it, fashion, but thanks for the invite.

—Casey Spooner

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Monday, September 8, 2008

Spooner-Fed

Guest blogger Casey Spooner takes a break from Fischerspooner to take in the sights and sounds of Fashion Week...

I haven't been the most fashionable New Yorker this week. Maybe I'm jaded. Maybe I'm smarter. Maybe a little of both. I came off a challenging performance and last-minute whirlwind trip to Italy. It sounds glamourous (and it is), but it is also rather taxing. And of course I threw in a secret live show at Santos Party House the day after our return, to kick off Fashion Week.

That same evening I was planning on swinging by the Interview party at the new Standard Hotel. I was excited about seeing the amazing building and I'm a big fan of the new Interview. I love the redesign, and the editorial and fashion content is a vast improvement. Bravo! The current Kate Moss cover is great, and don't even get me started on the print job! The metallic paper is kicking my ass. (I'm a geek for good production value.) But, alas, the soundcheck ran late and I needed a meal, so I was not to attend. But we had fun at Santos doing a few songs and staying up way too late.

The next day I had to sleep in and later opted for a viewing of HAIR at the Delacorte Theater in Central Park. I highly suggest seeing anything in that amazing space. Saturday I had every intention of going to the Loden Dager and Threeasfour shows, but I just couldn't get out of bed until 3 pm, then I had to go to the studio to start a two-week recording/writing session. So I bailed on everything fashion, started composing a new song, grabbed a meal at the corner Japanese cafe and fell asleep in my clothes that night.

After sleeping for no fewer than ten hours, I woke up yesterday feeling refreshed and ready to try it all again. And this time I actually made it to something. First was the Y-3 show. I'm a major fan of Y-3 and I have a real weakness for freaky sportswear. One of my favorite shops in the world is La Maison de Santé in Brussels. They have the best knee braces and weird therapeutic sports-related paraphernalia. Of course I'm a slut for Y-3 sneakers, always, and there was one black man-skirt with hightops that looked great.





Last night was all about Calvin Klein's 40th anniversary party at the Highline park. Talk about production values! It was incredible, like a spaceship of a Fire Island beach house had landed at the corner of 30th Street and 10th Avenue. The entrance was gigantic with a huge video billboard, and the spectacle continued every step of the way. Inside you're struck by a MoMA-esque interior filled with very modern-looking people and black-clad, perfectly sculpted muscle-boy waiters. Off to the right and down the hall was a James Turrell sculpture—and it was beautiful, a luminous rectangle of blue in a darkened room. Initially I thought it was a video projection of blue light, but soon I realized we cast no shadows as we gathered around.

Up the giant staircase and out the back, the party spilled onto the renovated Highline railway—and my jaw remained dropped. Past the initial glut of fabulous people, a promenade was constructed that ran all the way from 10th to 11th Avenue, lined with thousands of long-stem white roses. The fragrance was intoxicating and the decadence was impressive. But wait, there's more. After hanging out with Mike Furey and Tom Napack from the band Dangerous Muse, I bumped into Martha Stewart and told her that she's our Warhol, upon which she wanted her picture taken with us.

—Casey Spooner

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Saturday, March 29, 2008

Pics from the Rodarte party at Submercer Thursday night, celebrating the Mulleavy sisters' cover of Me magazine. Here, we have Kate Mulleavy & Patrick Li, Chloë Sevigny & Humberto Leon, and my dates (and esteemed Hint Blog contributors) Casey Spooner & Haidee Findlay-Levin. Cameras weren't allowed inside, but I remember seeing—between swigs of an otherworldly lemon-champagne elixir—the blurred faces of, and apparently chatting with, Ryan McGinley, Marcelo Krasilcic and Acne Paper's editor-in-chief Thomas Persson, who hadn't slept in two nights from simultaneous store launches in Paris and New York. Oh yeah, there was that party earlier in the night...





Photos by Kristen Somody Whalen

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