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Edited by on September 10 2012 at 11:10 AM

An insider look from the outside. Issue 2: I know you saw me on the video…truuuuuue.

Lines are a New York Fashion Week necessity. Clothing lines. Coke lines. But most of all lines of the standing-in variety. But the line to get into Custo Barcelona was epic by any standards. It was even longer than the line for Diane von Furstenberg, but more on her later.

This newfound popularity for the Spanish designer can be attributed, rumor has it, to someone overbooking the show by some 200 people. I managed to bypass the line through no skill of my own, however, thanks to a friend who was also attending and basically swept me in with her.

And that was how I knew the Fashion Week gods were finally smiling down on me.

Watching the DVF live stream at Lincoln Center, I noticed how Diane — I feel we’re on a first-name basis at this point — took her sweet time with her final bow: shaking hands and socializing with front row friends like Valentino and Oscar de la Renta. None of that peek-out-and-wave crap for DVF.

Then, while waiting to get backstage for Zang Toi, the gods cracked a smile again in the form of one André Leon Talley, exiting DVF with legendary model Bethann Hardison. My obsession with ALT is pretty well-known among anyone who knows or probably has even seen me as I contribute my birth to him and Diana Ross proof positive (at 54 even!). Just when things couldn’t get more sublime, sublimity itself appeared as Diane and huzz Barry Diller wafted past.

After some time shooting and social media-ing Zang Toi, my phone inevitably died — Fashion Week has a tendency to kill indiscriminately. On my way back to the FashionIndie office I spotted a human tattoo I immediately recognized as Zombie Boy, but sadly my phone did not magically come back from the dead….

The day came to a close and the night promptly took over as the FI kids and I headed over to Opening Ceremony‘s 10th anniversary party at Webster Hall. And let me tell you — what a fuckin’ party. There were different rooms, six I believe, each with its own theme and music, but the “1992″ room proved the most popular — naturally — and the most dance-y — also, naturally.

The 90s are back with a vengeance and apparently so is Lil’ Kim, who took the stage at 2 a.m. to perform  a series of hits. Sadly, yet again, my phone didn’t survive till the end of the night, though my liver somehow did, even after double-fisting throughout the night while rapping along to “Crush on You” with the rest of the 24-hour fashion party people.

Every Fashion Week there’s one night that redeems all the other bullshit you have to go through and that was definitely last night. Still three more days of shit to wade through, though.

Custo Barcelona


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Story by Lester Brathwaite

I was center square from 1969 to 1978, during which I perfected the art of the zing as well as a crippling cocaine addiction. Bea Arthur was responsible for both. @LesFabian lester dot brathwaite at gmail

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