Fashion Night Out meets FDP
I always think its genius when stores have complimentary booze to get sippy on while shopping, or for one's significant other/husband/boyfriend/dad/"benefactor" to sip on while some lucky girl just tries on clothes until the credit card holder has had enough free booze to shell out for just about anything. I have never been in this situation, but have always thought it made so much sense. The fashion and beauty retailers of NYC knew what they were doing when theycame up with Fashion Night Out, a night of free booze, spendy fall fashion, and mingling models to start off New York Fashion Week. This had my and Paige's name written all over it in large, all caps, bold lettering.
We started discussing (emailing while we were at our "jobs") about what we would wear, where we would go, and which celebs we wanted
to see the most. Justin Timberlake at Saks? Blake Lively at Macy's? Of course the Olsen's tending bar at Bergdorf's took the cake.
We started the night at Tiffany's to support our roommate and start the night off with an entourage of six aptly dressed young ladies. While the idea of Fashion Night Out is to inspire spending, we were not to be fooled by retailers and decided the night was more about getting freebies and acting ridiculous as the harshest critics were boozy gay men. We got Absolute peartinis at Barney's, where the bar was tough to locate, but an inquisitive trip to the third floor proved there were free cocktails. Then we had Hurricane sake at Diesel (which inspired a double-dog-dare to put men's Diesel underwear on my head, trying on every pair of Diesel sunglasses we wouldn't wear unless we were paid in Benjamin's, and a conversation about Paige's Diesel mini backpack from her childhood). Then to Saks where we elbowed teenyboppers ascending clothing racks to get a glimpse of Justin Timberlake that may not have actually even have been there. Tricky no? After Justin's no-show we headed downtown where, unsurprisingly, the champagne had been drunk and we were on our own to find some nightcaps.
We settled on a little place where Paige recently had some"bad, translucent prosciutto"...could ANYTHING be worse than raw, clear meat? As our girlfriends ordered chocolate and key-lime pie martinis, Paige and I went one-for-one doing something crazier than taking another shot at Italian ham: ordering the Greektini, made with tomato and cucumber vodka and topped with a Feta-stuffed olive. About thirty minutes after ordering our drinks (our waiter confused "chocolate martini" with "chardonnay", which could only be topped by the time Paige mixed up Spain and Brazil on a map) we got our Greektinis, saw that we actually had murky cheese martinis, regretted our decision, drank them, drank our girlfriends because theirs were "too strong", and called it a night.
We dream of the day we can actually buy something at Fashion Night Out, actually see Justin Timberlake, and be smart enough not to order booze that comes with a lump of cheese in it. Until then, we will discount shop, bash Jessica Biel, and drink cheesetinis.
We started discussing (emailing while we were at our "jobs") about what we would wear, where we would go, and which celebs we wanted
to see the most. Justin Timberlake at Saks? Blake Lively at Macy's? Of course the Olsen's tending bar at Bergdorf's took the cake.We started the night at Tiffany's to support our roommate and start the night off with an entourage of six aptly dressed young ladies. While the idea of Fashion Night Out is to inspire spending, we were not to be fooled by retailers and decided the night was more about getting freebies and acting ridiculous as the harshest critics were boozy gay men. We got Absolute peartinis at Barney's, where the bar was tough to locate, but an inquisitive trip to the third floor proved there were free cocktails. Then we had Hurricane sake at Diesel (which inspired a double-dog-dare to put men's Diesel underwear on my head, trying on every pair of Diesel sunglasses we wouldn't wear unless we were paid in Benjamin's, and a conversation about Paige's Diesel mini backpack from her childhood). Then to Saks where we elbowed teenyboppers ascending clothing racks to get a glimpse of Justin Timberlake that may not have actually even have been there. Tricky no? After Justin's no-show we headed downtown where, unsurprisingly, the champagne had been drunk and we were on our own to find some nightcaps.
We settled on a little place where Paige recently had some"bad, translucent prosciutto"...could ANYTHING be worse than raw, clear meat? As our girlfriends ordered chocolate and key-lime pie martinis, Paige and I went one-for-one doing something crazier than taking another shot at Italian ham: ordering the Greektini, made with tomato and cucumber vodka and topped with a Feta-stuffed olive. About thirty minutes after ordering our drinks (our waiter confused "chocolate martini" with "chardonnay", which could only be topped by the time Paige mixed up Spain and Brazil on a map) we got our Greektinis, saw that we actually had murky cheese martinis, regretted our decision, drank them, drank our girlfriends because theirs were "too strong", and called it a night.
We dream of the day we can actually buy something at Fashion Night Out, actually see Justin Timberlake, and be smart enough not to order booze that comes with a lump of cheese in it. Until then, we will discount shop, bash Jessica Biel, and drink cheesetinis.
"I dare you to put those Diesel man panties on your head. Do it"
Cheesetini anyone?
Deisel sunglasses that we spotted from across the bar because there were definitely no straight men to spot. 
I think you two are freakin' hilarious. YOU SHOULD WRITE A BOOK!!!
ReplyDelete