SOOO there was a Courtney Love concert Tuesday night at Hiro Ballroom here in New York and it sort of unofficially kicked off Fashion Week in a good way for once. Usually when Fashion Week comes around I am trés miserable, because I used to be a strung-out wreck who was late for everything all of the time and never had money for taxis because I had always lost my debit card or something. During Fashion Week, this stuff does NOT fly.
WELL. It has been a whole TWO MONTHS since I have lost my debit card; I am not an Adderall Head anymore; I go to sleep at night now and sometimes I even eat breakfast, so suddenly Fashion Week doesn't seem so daunting. YES, it is still hard, especially since I don't have my gorgeous new intern for another week (let's all get excited for the amazing JULIE, and thank you SO much everyone who applied -- I am sorry I couldn't get back to all of you yet -- I want everyone to write "It Happened To Me's" and stuff for us -- give me time).
Fashion Week sounds really glam and it is in some ways but let me tell you this: Everything gets old fast, and if there's some pang in you that's all "Why am I not in New York? Why don't I have a glamour job? How can I be doing that?" -- I feel you. That used to be me, and now I feel that way mainly when I think about Pete Doherty concerts in London (I miss one like every five fucking minutes). And yes, I used to be so desperate to go to Fashion Week, and I didn't even love fashion or anything -- I just wanted to be there for the thrill of it all! And it is thrilling. The first show. And then …
Like anything else, it is sort of the same scene over and over. Nowadays all the big Fashion Week celebrities are so reality star-ry anyway that they don't really register in a big way when you see them as you'd expect them to! Not that they're not awesome celebrities, but Anna Wintour used to be this elusive jungle cat in my brain before I came to work at Conde Nast -- where I interned at Teen Vogue and Glamour before winding up as beauty assistant and then a beauty editor at Lucky -- it's all the same building, and Anna sightings abound. Now they're not exciting to me. I've seen her in person at least 100 times, and she always looks exactly the same -- just like she does in "The September Issue." Reality culture, see.
And last night I saw the Kardashians twice in one day: at a taping for Jane's Sirius Xm Radio show (JANE RADIO) in the morning, then later that night at photographer Annie Leibowitz's studio at their launch party for their Sears Kollection. Scott Disick (my FAVORITE "Kardashian") was there, looking … exactly like Scott Kardashian. I talked to him awkwardly for like three minutes, and he was exactly like he was on the show. The girls, in person, and Mama Kris, are also exactly like you'd expect them to be in person, and it feels weirdly normal to be around them. Same with when I met Rachel Zoe -- I was totally comfortable around them! Everyone is sort of a mass star now, even the editor in chief of Vogue. It's not that striking in person.
And then throw in a few Kate Bosworth and Nina Garcia and, like, Lauren Conrad sightings here and there, plus Alexander Wang or a Ronson or Russell Simmons or people you only really notice because of the paparazzi buzz around them, and there, there you have it: Fashion Week. It's not so great. Don't be down that you're not there. (Oh God, and in February when it's COLD outside and there are no taxis? Be GLAD you're not there!)
I'll be in and out of the tents, however, drinking free water and pretending I know which dude in Proenza Schouler is which. Check in for updates on the site. Obviously there's a TON of Fashion Week coverage out there, and while we love the clothes and the beauty looks here on xoJane.com, we also love a good "I Smoked Weed With Joe Jonas" story, so you can be expecting your regularly scheduled programming as well. We'll be covering Fashion Week here in New York in our own quirky way. Is there anything you'd particularly like to know about, or to see?
But back to Courtney Love: a TRUE star to me, one that I was utterly starstruck by the first time I met her -- earlier this year, in fact, when Eric and I walked her in to the xoJane.com launch party at the Jane Hotel in the West Village! She was smoking a cigarette from the open back seat of her chauffeured black town car and not making eye contact with Eric even as she acknowledged him -- not in a mean way, just in an I'm-Courtney-goddamn-Love way. "Who's here?" she asked us. "Erm, Jane is here," Eric said (lamely). "Michael [Stipe] is here. J.D. [Samson] is here…"
"I'm going to write a column for Jane," Courtney interrupted -- and God bless her, she did, not a few weeks later! (Don't worry -- we're going to get more out of her.) She prattled on about that as she stepped grandly from the car wearing a white silk gown and a black fur coat, which she tossed on the floor the second she'd swept inside and spotted Jane, whom she hugged and vamped with for the cameras. I was AGOG, though she never spoke directly to me that night. I did, however, notice my favorite Courtney Love detail ever: a tattoo in script underneath her underarm that said "LET IT BLEED" -- like the Rolling Stones record, and my personal life motto. SICK! I was walking right next to that armpit, and I was so thrilled I could have died.
Last night was then the second time I'd ever been in the same room with Courtney Love, and suddenly she seemed, in that celebrity-you've-seen-more-than-once-way familiar. I swear she might have recognized me just a little, or maybe I was the one screaming the loudest up front.
She rocked it! She was skinny and toned with her ass hanging out, wearing a rhinestone headress in her hair and lacy hot pants with a white satin blouse with a black vest over it ("This is the first piece of swag I ever got -- free shit," she told us. "Calvin Klein, 1990."). She drank red wine and smoked cigarettes and played a bunch of songs off "Celebrity Skin" ("Malibu," "Celebrity Skin," "Northern Star") and "Live Through This" ("Violet" and "Miss World" -- though at first she said she couldn't play them both, we had to pick one -- then she did anyway). She flat-out refused to play "Doll Parts." I screamed "MONO!" and "SUNSET STRIP!," but alas. She also covered the Stones' "Sympathy For the Devil" and "Under My Thumb," which she called the "most sexist song ever" before announcing she was the first woman ever to cover it. Hot!
She was in a great mood. She talked about how gorgeous Frances looked in her recent Hedi Slimane photographs ("I'm so glad she didn't get that nose job, you guys!") and said that while Frances smoked in the pics, that was inevitable: (gesturing to herself) "Look who raised her." She played a song she wrote in rehab about never having to go hungry again. She bummed lights for her Parliments from the audience, and she propped her leg up on a amp just like in the old days (I died). Yup, it was the best, and I was thrilled to DEATH to be there screaming along with every word.
What's YOUR favorite Hole song? I was happy with "Violet" ...