Of all the Fashion Week parties, the Prada-store event will always be good. They couldn't possibly top their last big Fashion Week bash with the Raconteurs, but we figured they might come close. And they did, sort of. We'd been looking forward to hearing Damien Hirst's formerly crack-addicted "maverick fucking geezer" friend Antony Green and his band the Hours play beneath a mockup of Hirst's $100 million skull. But pretty much from the second they started, we started to doze off. There were soundboard issues, and the music did not rock. Instead, we counted the celebs who had been able to squeeze their tiny bodies onto the steps opposite the stage (which is right in front of that big curvy thing in the middle of the store). Quite a few, it turned out.
Going to a Baby Phat show feels a bit like going to a nightclub. The prospect of a big ol' spectacle gets everyone to tease up their hair and put on something shiny — one woman showed up in a dress that had mesh strips that went all the way up to her butt cleavage — and stand around sipping drinks, bopping their heads to the dance music, and craning their necks to see if that really is Jeremy Piven over there, or if it’s just some dude who hates to shower. It's such a tornado of humanity that we couldn't even make our way to the bar, and as you know by now, that says a lot.