New Rules NYC (#Wattys2015 Winner)

Things Your Learn Throwing Parties During Fashion Week

Chapter 17 - Emma

I smiled, looked into the mirror and rolled my shoulders up and back – sucking in my lips and applying another quick dab of lipstick. Relishing a second of calm, focusing on a couple of breathes. This space, between the frantic organizing and the full kickoff, a second to contemplate success or failure. Despite Katie leaving us with no Grey Goose, Patron or Dom, we had called in some favors and were ready to go.

The angst spread through my body, out into my fingers. I turned to check out my side view. Still not sure about this dress, Charlotte had picked it out for me from Lover but I never really wore backless dresses, though Viv had pushed hard for it. I wore my hair up to make the most of it. I took another selfie in the full length mirror. I wouldn’t post this one. You could only post a couple a night – there would be better shots to come. There better be.

God I hope people show up. I was always like this when I had a party – and it’s not even my party – well that’s bullshit, I’m thoroughly invested now. But it wasn’t easy, he wanted me to get Kim & Kanye, I’d been calling his people – the dude had his own fashion show and was attending countless others – promoting his new shoe, four different performances, one of which was Saturday Night Live and right now Twitter said he has hanging at Dave Chappell’s show. Good luck.

I needed a good chunk of the list to show up, Vince will lose his shit if they didn’t. I can see his awkward WTF face now, halfway through the night, looking out across the room, tapping his drink debating whether there was someone better he could be talking to, considering if the party was something to brag about or bury. If he is even asking that question, I had failed.

He had this vision of having the party in the middle of AllStar Weekend and Fashion Week, of it being the best in East & Low history, screwing this up would mean messing with Vince’s ego, and I can pretty much forget about moving any further up this greasy employment chain. Everything could be wiped away if this is a flop.

I took another breath, watching my chest rise and fall in the mirror. Time to own this club like it was all for me – it was all because of me.

The Westway was far enough removed from the usual spots that it allowed us to give the impression of anonymity, a joke considering how many photographers I have tipped off in advance – but everyone loved to show up and curse the shower of camera flashes. It was not a new place, but it had maintained its unique appeal over the years. The perfect mix of mystique and debauchery.

I took a glass of champagne and joined Lisa and Andre from our A&R team, she had poured herself into a green full length dress, her boobs locked in place, I can’t imagine she was especially nimble but she looked great, I told her so. She returned the gesture and I made a note to see if she attempted to dance in it later. With no need to excuse myself, I headed out front to check with the door team again, cars were starting to arrive and I wanted to make sure things were flowing.

Door lists are weird things, the staff are supposed to know who anyone important is, asking people who they are is essentially an insult. You see people try and use this tactic to get into parties, walking up like the doorman should know who they are. These specifies all based their arrival times on perceived status, considering it an obvious fail if they feel they showed up too early, often they’ll send in their publicity people to scope it out first. I made sure all the East & Low crew were here well in advance to kick things off.

From nowhere a guy appeared next to me, security close behind him. “Hey, we did that Redbull music gig last year right?” He asked. I did recognize him, kind of hard to forget him from the after party – he was skimming records across the pool and in some pretty extraordinary form.