It’s New York Fashion Week! I can tell because I’m wearing sneakers, eating only refined grains, and refusing to leave Chinatown. Fortuitous, then, that last night’s VFiles party was held at Bow on the Bowery, exactly one and a half cigarettes from my apartment. It would have taken half a pack to get through the desperate door-side mosh pit (statistically speaking, how many of you guys can be named Scott Lipps?) had it not been for another lucky thing, to wit, the sweeping arrival of Visionaire’s boss femme, Cecilia Dean. A nod, a shrug, we’re in. I want to pay Cecilia Dean to walk in front of me at Trader Joe’s.
At first, the only thing that makes this night different from all other nights at Bow is the number of guests loudly reminding us that they hate fashion parties. But wait, are those rainbow lights? IS THAT A .GIF BOOTH? Yeppppp. VFiles, still not officially off the ground, has yet to put a foot wrong in its quest for the clicks and faves of New York’s kids. I have not the cluest of clues how they’re making money, but I do like how they spend it.
As for those kids, they’re wearing tiaras over toques, snapchatting surreptitious pics of Jeanette Hayes, marvelling over the fact that Jourdan Dunn, a model, is tall, paying crisp twenties to the bathroom boss for the privilege of sharing a stall (and straw), and dancing like it’s the last, not the first, night of New York’s most decadent week.