When Andrea asked me if I wanted to be her plus one for a party at the new Ivy Hotel at 600 F Street, I was like, "Oh, that disgusting show of greed and indulgence that displaced all those poor residents of the Maryland Hotel??" And then she was like "It's free food and booze" and I'm like "I'm so there." The funny thing was, as we drove there last night I said, "I don't know where I'm going," then she told me the address and I responded, "Oh, where Garage Rock and Gas Haus used to be" and she was confused. I know I wasn't the only one hanging out there when I was 15. Please tell me someone else remembers??
Anyway, last night there was a party on the roof of the Ivy Hotel for Riviera magazine's "sexy" issue release party. Never heard of Riviera? Think 944 with articles actually written by writers. And think rich. Very very rich. Like people who order the not-free call drinks at a party where Ketel is the well vodka. Like that. Yeah. Oh, and did I mention I wore a dress??? Me. Hoodie and jeans and docs Rosey. In a dress.
Anyway, the hotel is beautiful, I really can't knock it, except for the fact that downtown is kicking out the soul of the city and I will probably never, ever have occasion to be at the Ivy Hotel. Still, we walked in through the wrong door, so the hostess walked us through the ($25 cover) club, around past the smoking alcoves with the big beefy weather resistant cushions, to the lobby and elevators, up to the rooftop to the party. When we got there, the crowd was sparse but the champagne and hors d'oeuvres were plentiful so I was right at home. Quickly. I was actually surprised how many people were there that I knew, and more important, why I didn't get my own actual invite? (haha)
Anyway, the party was a typical advertising-type soiree with tons of schmoozing and boozing, and enough air kisses to make you gag, but it was fun and despite all the makeup and clothes that cost more than my car, I had a very good time. (The free booze, of course, helped.)
So now, all of my pictures, because I never stop being a blogger.
These were the orchid arrangements that were right at the entrance. Beautiful.
This is one of the models? Modeling bicycles? Whatever. Could've done without the models, I would say...
In a shocking revelation, Troy Johnson DOES actually get out of the house sometimes. Shown here with my lovely homegirls, Andrea and Carrie.
Molly and Jamal were out, too.
Molly and I decided to cruise around the party and check out the full bar and I got her to pose for me in one of the poolside cabanas. The pool was covered with plexiglass tiles so people could walk over the pool, the models could perch, and presumably, people could dance, if there was dancing to be had. I thought it was a little scary myself, but whatever.
My friends are pretty, aren't they?
ditto on this picture.
and this one.
May was at the party with a friend. Her band is playing at the Ken Club next Thursday. She's gonna clearly bring some class to my little dive.
(OK, I was told when taking this picture that I was mean and I'll get her busted, but I can't resist. I won't say who this is, but I will say that when she did wake up, she reached straight for her glass of wine. Maybe try the complimentary Fiji Water? Honey, don't worry, we've all been there, and those seats were just sooo comfy, huh? ) I have pulled the picture of the drunk woman passed out per a friend's request. But for the record, if you pass out in public, expect to have your picture on the internet...But I'm the nice blogger, so the picture is safely pulled.
The funny thing about this crowd is they. love. pictures. Anyone with a camera, and they're like "take a picture of us." Or I could just walk up to random people and it went something like "Can I take a picture of you for my blog?" "What's a blog? Doesn't matter, take our picture." So these are a bunch of random party-goers. They're all probably a big deal to someone somewhere. Maybe 944.
Oh and my final two shots of the event. First, my beautiful friend Andrea though I'm sorry I didn't capture her kick ass cowboy boots that were haitch. oh. tee. (Yes, I'm pretending to be British.)
And then, Josh(?). My new favorite bartender. So the first time I went up for drinks to the bar (once I'd had enough of the champagne, that is), I waited a shit long time behind some skater guys who were saying that they weren't getting served because of how they looked. Anyway, I quickly realized in this crowd, you have to make an impression. I knew my stunning looks wouldn't do the trick because everyone here is in the pretty jet set crowd like me. (oh.my.god. please read 120% of sarcasm in that last sentence) Anyway, I got my drink and was on my merry way. The next time, however, when Josh asked me what he could get me, I asked him for a PBR tall boy in a brown bag. Caught him totally off guard, but he laughed his ass off, and the rest of the night, I didn't have to wait for a drink. So there's my line and you can use it, if you're ever caught in a fish-out-of-water sitch like I was...
My parting words to Josh were, "Thank you, I'm sorry you'll never see me here again."
Oh, one thing I wanted to mention, and I would've taken a picture if it wasn't creepy, but the bathrooms have separate men and women's doors, but have a shared sink/handwashing area. People kept being surprised by this. And then they were kinda turned on by it. It was kinda funny.
Andrea and I finally bailed the party and were on our merry way to the Casbah to polish off an already indulgent evening...