Oh, I forgot to tell you about the Men's Style "Women in Fashion" party. Among 200 or so guests, atop the Peninsula Hotel on 5th avenue, where the Veuve Clicquot was pouring more freely than I liked (the following morning). I waited downstairs for two girlfriends. I was already irritated to be standing in a hotel lobby, since they weren't letting anyone up to the party in Salon de Ning. I absent-mindedly sent a text or two. Pink and black shoes caught my eye. Looked up. Lindsay Lohan. God she's short. Those extensions. Lindsay Lohan. LiLo. I had heard (earlier that day) that she had RSVP'd. She kept walking by, back and forth. Samantha Ronson emerged from somewhere and joined her. A photographer (also waiting to go up to the party) stood next to me. "Lindsay Lohan, right?" I cast a sideways glance as if he had to ask... "yeah".
I should have just worn a sign that said "I WORK IN MEDIA". Looking back, that probably wouldn't have even been necessary. I'm sure everyone just knew. The rooftop views were great. I took cheesy pictures with my girlfriends and took in all the trendy labels that passed by. Designers, editors, NY socialites.
It was fun, but after an hour or so, I was ready to catch up with my friends who were in town from DC. I packed into an elevator down and when I walked with the group out of the hotel, I was surprised to see actual paparazzi on the street below the steps. Lights immediately flashed. I felt famous for half a millisecond, and then walked namelessly down to the subway - back downtown - where I belong.
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