leave it to chanel

the champagne haze has lifted, party dress back in the closet again. but the pictures remain as physical evidence that i indeed attended the party of the season, even brushed shoulders with the mastermind himself, the supernatural karl lagerfeld.
it was the opening of the chanel mobile art pavilion in central park. fallen leaves replaced the red carpet, the path lined with stark, tall, impeccably clad young men greeting guests with a crisp glass of champagne. the mirror-covered party room exterior reflected the wooded landscape, but inside new york’s elite stripped off their winter shells and got down to the sexy, androgynous disco that is hercules and love affair. the champagne didn’t stop flowing and the banquet tables were miraculously never depleted of glassware.
just outside, glowing stairs slowly spiraled into the mothership – zaha hadid’s world traveling shiny, white pod housing art works inspired by the legacy of the ’55 chanel bag. loved the gorgeous display of bubbling orbs and mangled chanel leather elevating into seemingly endless stairs and mirrors. on the way out, a wishing tree was draped with tags partiers scribbled notes like ‘aggy loves albert, forever’ and ‘i want to fuck karl lagerfeld.’
dfa’s james murphy kept the cool kids dancing, but eventually the crowd thinned and we were sent back out into the night. the champagne is gone, and mr. lagerfeld has left the building, but it’s still worth the trip uptown – open to the public until nov. 9.

selected styles now on sale.

new arrivals: men’s and women’s rick owens drkshdw