Given that its front man is something of a celebrity-friendly designer, we decided to forego the usual brow-furrowing and crowd-scanning at Marc by Marc Jacobs in favor of simply asking a PR girl for a general idea where the famous guests might be concentrated. Looking at us like Marilyn Manson’s head had just burst forth from our shoulders — and, we think, erroneously assuming we didn’t know the difference between this clothing line and its upscale Marc Jacobs sibling — the event staffer said, “Oh, this isn’t the one that celebrities come to.”
Tell that to Fergie, who strolled in twenty minutes later and plopped down in a front-row seat. We’re fairly sure that kid’s going to make something of herself someday and would thusly prefer to be categorized as a celebrity, but you know — potato, po-tah-to. Fergie inched her brown-tinted shades down a notch on her nose so she could peer over them at inquiring reporters and the models’ shoes. The hint of visible iris gave her a really strange, somewhat aggressive Mona Lisa quality where we felt like she might be glaring right at us at all times, even though we were seated eight rows up and across the catwalk; we resisted the urge to jump up and scream, “Okay, FINE, we’re sorry we said that thing about your face that one time!”
During the show Fergie tried very hard to sit up straight (we recognize the hallmarks of trying to feign great posture, as we are big fakers on that front as well), tugged at the neckline of her sleeveless cream top, and constantly fidgeted with where to put her hands. Clasped right-over-left in her lap? Or left-over-right? What about wrists crossed and resting on her knee? Or maybe left hand resting on the bleacher to prop up the aching back? It was as if she knew that later she would be judged on her deportment. To that end her facial expressions were also tough to read, but when a model came out halfway through the show in a shirt reading, “OFF THE DEEP END,” Fergie giggled and cracked such a wide smile that we actually saw teeth. Perhaps she saw in it a kindred spirit.
The only other famous face there belonged to stylist and clearly very amateur eater Rachel Zoe, who we’re sure would also object to being considered a non-celeb. And as much as we’d like to agree she isn’t one, the fact is, we’d come to recognize every line on her face so well that we noticed immediately when Mother Nature’s generous hand kindly reached out and wiped them away like she was cleaning the kitchen counter. You may have won this round, Zoe, but remember the night is young. —The Fug Girls