Things started out so calmly at Chris Benz’s presentation Monday afternoon: Children and dogs wandered the white-walled art gallery, taking in the brightly colored coats and dyed fur trapper hats in peace. All was well. Until it wasn’t.
First, we spotted Susan Sarandon, looking gorgeous as usual, but without her daughter and Benz’s pal, actress Eva Amurri. In lieu of her offspring, Susan brought evidence of her other baby: business cards for her private table-tennis club, SPiN, and a purseful of branded orange Ping-Pong balls, which we saw her handing to a variety of people. We’re crossing our fingers that she’s arranging a wicked beer-pong round-robin tournament for the upcoming week, and that we can somehow manage to finagle our way in to gawk at that.
Following on Susan’s heels was Ugly Betty’s Mark Indelicato, who looked a bit tired — long days shooting, perhaps? — and was wearing pegged jeans. Ah, youth: the only time you can even begin to get away with pegged jeans. We also spied Kelly Osbourne, and much like every other time we’ve ever laid eyes on her, we were moved to remark on how tiny her waist is. She wore a royal-blue dress cinched with a black belt, fuchsia mesh gloves, and a truly awesome pair of studded platforms. For reasons unbeknownst to us, Kelly and her dog posed for a series of pictures while holding up a tube of half-used lip gloss. Maybe she just really loves that color.
Less in love — with anything — was one of Benz’s models. We noticed about half an hour into the presentation that she was displaying the universal body language of “my feet are killing me,” all hunched over and fidgety. (She was so fidgety, in fact, that in the course of playing with her skirt, she flashed us her underwear.) She kept talking agitatedly to the other models, all of whom seemed to listen to her politely while secretly wishing she would stop yapping and leave them out of it. Eventually, Crankypants hopped off the model’s platform without permission and … just walked away.
We were stunned. The models were wearing very high heels, and it was warm inside the venue, but … dude, you’re a model. Your whole life is about wearing uncomfortable shoes and sweating under the lights. This girl wasn’t even particularly overdressed, especially in comparison to the women flanking her, one of whom was wearing at least three layers and a pair of fuzzy gloves.
Eventually, our little troublemaker came back to the venue and took her spot again. She soon called over someone who was working in an official capacity for Chris Benz and began to complain, as her fellow models looked on with open curiosity and bemusement. “I’m dying,” we heard her say, and she then hopped off the platform and stormed off yet again. The model wrangler turned to a bystander and rolled her eyes. “Um, I’m sorry?” she cracked. It was at this point that we happened to catch the eye of the model in the fuzzy gloves, who, when she saw the looks on our faces, burst out laughing and shook her head as if to say, “I know, right?”
After about ten minutes — during which water bottles were distributed to the models, so perhaps she was merely agitating for better model hydration — Crankypants came stomping back into the room for the second time and resumed her place in the lineup, looking extremely irritated and whispering things to the other models that passed down the row like a game of telephone. We’d love to tap into that line. As far as we know, this girl played out the rest of the evening. But we suspect that wherever she is right now, she’s not very happy about it. And she’s wearing flats.