Wednesday’s installment of the Fab Life is an epic. Riding the Fashion Week whirlwind, Fabiola hits five shows, arranges to host the Radar relaunch, chats up Zinedine Zidane, and has an unfortunate encounter with a can of Coke Zero.
9 a.m. Woke up to Vera Wang and Calvin Klein garment bags for the shows tomorrow. But I had to try on the looks later, as I had Michael Kors at 10 a.m. and an interview with the Palm Beach Post (for CIRCA) to do before that!
11:30 a.m. Got to the show and thought I missed it. Just as I was walking away, a man named Michael Daviti said, “I know you, you’re Fabiola. Do you want to come in?” Although I had to stand, I got to see the whole collection, which was sooooo good. I am going to buy lots of the pieces. I asked Michael if he could get me a copy of the music since I felt like dancing the whole time. As I was walking out, I saw Shoshanna Gruss and offered her a ride back to her office just so I could have a chance to catch up with her.
1 p.m. Carlos Miele. At this point, I felt like I hadn’t had enough time to get ready in the morning and didn’t look so hot. I sat next to Derek Blasberg (surprise surprise) and Alex Kramer, who worked with Carlos on the collection. The show was beautiful and very wearable. I really loved the lace-top-with-black-skirt look.
1:45 p.m. On my way to Catherine Malandrino I got a call from Maer Roshan. “Good news,” he said: Radar magazine would like Tinsley and I to join him in Los Angeles on February 21 to host the relaunch, just before the Oscars. And he wants us to do a photo shoot together before, something “edgy” that they will unveil at the event. I like the fact that Radar pokes fun at the idea of a socialite. I’m the first to admit that if I was on the other side of the fence I would do the same. So Tinz and I are off to L.A. next week!
2 p.m. Talked to Khajak Keledjian, who owns Intermix, about what collections he has liked. The show starts and I have to say I was so pleasantly surprised. Normally Malandrino is too frilly and flouncy for my taste, but this collection was so clean and mod. It was sleek and had an Edie Sedgwick feel. I was so impressed by the hair and hats that it made me want to go out and cut my hair (but I didn’t). It was very hip (I’m not 50, but I like that word, okay?).
3:30 p.m. Dropped Eleanor Ylvisaker and Dani Stahl off and headed down to the Zac Posen studio for a fitting. When I arrived, I ran into Mama Posen, who was so excited about the show, and we swapped stories about her ring from India and my ring from Venice. I decided on a black skirt and top for the show, with python details. And then I asked if I could also borrow something for later that evening, as I was going to the Y-3 show and would looove to wear a little red polka-dot dress that Zac made. As I was leaving the showroom (with both looks), I saw Anne Dexter Jones, who told me all about her daughter Charlotte’s show, which I sadly missed.
5 p.m. I went to Mal Sirrah, who is doing Designers for Darfur with Lydia Hearst-Shaw. Backstage, I talked to Lydia while she got her makeup done. Back in my seat, I talked with Cathy Horyn and Eric Wilson for a moment, and then the show began. It started with raw looks — just patterns of dresses on girls pinned together — and then the finished looks came out afterwards. It was an interesting concept. Lydia looked great — I love her red hair.
6:30 p.m. Went home to get ready for Y-3.
8:15 p.m. Already late for Y-3, I told my driver to go to the Armory on 67th, where I found myself being ushered up to a red carpet. Everyone looked very prim and uptown. I thought, Has Y-3 changed their demographic to uptown ladies in pearls??? Should I fake a stomach virus and leave? On the backdrop, I read “Project ALS and Town & Country.” So I was at the wrong party and really late to boot. I ran out with three people asking me if I would like to stay?!
8:35 p.m. I arrived at Hunter College, where the show was actually on, and quickly got to my seat. The space was so cool for a fashion show. It was a basketball court, but it was all black. I felt very collegiate sitting in the bleachers, like I should’ve been passing a note to my friend about my hot date last night (even though I went to boarding school in Switzerland and the only sports we did were skiing and flower arranging.)
Tinsley walked in and sat right next to me. Then Cuba Gooding Jr. came in and sat next to Tinz and I. For five minutes, all I could see in my head was a loop of “SHOW ME THE MONEY.” It was a small miracle that I managed not to blurt out, Tourette’s style: “SHOW ME THE MONEY SHOW ME THE MONEY SHOW ME THE MONEY!!!”
The show started, and it was really edgy and cool. There was even a conveyor belt. As I was watching them swoosh by, I noticed my friend Anouck Lepere was walking in the show. I screamed “NOOKIE!” every time she walked by and got Cuba and Tinsley to join in. After the second time, she broke the sacred catwalk-model code and not only looked at us, but even cracked a smile.
9:45 p.m. Went to the after-party at Joe’s Pub for twenty minutes. The highlight was talking to Zidane in French for a while. He seemed happy; I suspect his English is not as strong as his head-butts. Speaking of head-butts, I would have stayed and talked to him longer, but the girl he was with seemed like she might take me out soon.
10:30 p.m. I wanted to go to the Proenza after-party (I worship and adore both of them, and their clothes are to die for!) but could not bear the Beatrice Inn again. But in retrospect, the Beatrice would have been a dream compared to what was about to ensue.
Tinsley said she had to go to some Jay-Z Cherry Coke RocaWear party for a German In Style story. As I waited while Tinz walked the red carpet, someone said to me: “Hey, Fabiola, can you hold this?” Not even thinking, I said, “Sure.” Next thing you know, there was a flash of bulbs with me holding a Coke Zero diet cherry-vanilla-flavored can of nonsense. Yuk. What to do? Drop the can on my foot? Throw it to the next person waiting for the carpet? Put it down and step away? Shouldn’t I be getting paid for this? I finally handed it to someone, but the damage was done.
Inside the party, I already wanted to go home, but German In Style needed to get their shots. Since we didn’t really know anyone there, I pulled three good-looking people out of the crowd and asked if they would “pretend party” with Tinz and I. Turned out they were all Click models. Oh, how I lament my ill will towards the Beatrice. But really, and as always, I still had fun.
1:30 a.m. Home!