Eliza Dushku officially learned the hard way the First Rule of Fashion Week: Don’t arrive at the same time as J.Lo does. When we noticed Dushku and her brother Nate at Wednesday’s Marchesa presentation, we scampered over to check out her dress and then completely forgot about her the second we noticed La Lopez and her svelte hand warmer, Marc Anthony, a mere two feet away. With apologies to our mothers, we have to confess that our first reaction was to mouth, “Holy SHIT, it’s J.LO.” As was everyone’s, from what we could see. Probably even Dushku herself got butterflies. Fortunately for the forgotten former slayer, Dushku later got a taste of the Second Rule of Fashion Week: If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. Harvey Weinstein dragged Dushku over for a photo-friendly introduction to La Lopez and then told Eliza to keep on following him around the party. Could she be his new — and substantially less snotty — Gwyneth?
Mrs. Lo-Anthony, who has developed a raging Marchesa habit in the last year or so, impressed the hell out of us by navigating the party in killer high heels with ankle cuffs. How does one do that while big as a house and battling swollen feet, and would she please write a manual for the rest of us? Jennifer seemed to adore all the graceful gowns she ogled, constantly hand in hand with her proud hubby or with arms wrapped around one another while a dapper bodyguard hovered nearby. Giggling merrily — a knocked-up J.Lo is apparently a giddy J.Lo — she even signed an autograph for a fan, and gleefully revealed to a pal that her due date is February 23. Thank God we now know when to send over the baby Uggs. Marchesa designers Georgina Chapman and Keren Craig squealed when they spied her and both immediately dove for The Belly, patting it in amazement. “Two weeks! I’m freaking out!” Lopez laughed. She then ran her hands over her teal knee-length shift (which took a while, because seriously, she is so preggers we feared her water would break on our feet, and we don’t want to have to sell our shoes on eBay) and exclaimed in wonder, “It fit!”
Also shouting out private things at high volume: Christian Slater, who gave a friend his e-mail address right in front of us. We’ll never tell — our teenage selves would prefer to lock it away in our diaries along with sketches of our inevitable wedding — but it amused us when he confessed that he had to get creative with the address because “there was already another Christian Slater on there.” The nerve!
We’re distressed to report that Craig, so normally pretty, tragically seemed to have selected pants to wear under her ivory shift. No, Keren! Retreat from the Dark Side! It was warm today, and you’re better than that! We will be applying brain bleach as soon as possible. Perhaps she lost a bet with Chapman, who rocked a short, ornate black number that she laughingly confessed was “a reject, actually” from the collection. Of her new husband, El Weinstein (whose underwear we haven’t recovered from seeing a year ago as he tumbled backward out of an Escalade at the Peninsula in L.A.), Georgina told a reporter, “I’m not sure Harvey really inspires me in design, to be honest. Maybe his movies do?” Nice try. We’ll believe it when they unveil a line of Scream-themed gowns.
Natasha Richardson missed all the fun, arriving right when the presentation started — what is wrong with people? — and leaving quickly. “One? I saw about eight things,” she said when asked by a staffer if she saw anything she liked. Then, of the cluster of photogs gathered outside, she whispered conspiratorially, “I walked in [wearing] a trench and felt a bit silly, so I’m leaving like this,” and gestured to her hot-pink minidress.
Miss USA Rachel Smith wandered through in her blue wool coat. We’re not sure how she wasn’t sweltering, as a gorgeous redhead model we recognized from Tory Burch’s presentation had to be escorted backstage for twenty minutes while she recovered from swooning. Anne Hathaway — who brought her mom and greeted Craig with a loving “Hi, sugar!” — coped with the heat by sipping from a complimentary split of Moët. “This volume skirt is perfect; it hides my drink really well,” she said after burying the bottle in its folds for a photo op. Aw. With that she just vaulted off our “meh” list straight to being our kind of girl. Apparently it’s that easy. —The Fug Girls