Fashion Week

Peter Oumanski

The Wee Hours: LiLo Crashes Marc Jacobs Bash Before Jagger Struts On In

The hotel guests at Dream Downtown had suitcases, satchels and children piled up next to the check-in counter, waiting interminably for a chance at a room, and as they did swirls of fashionable men and women speed-walked by without a word or a look—they were headed to the last big event of the week, the after-party for Marc Jacobs and his spring and summer collection. The hotel guests ventured an occasional glace at the well-attired cohort with the mysterious wristbands, striding confidently toward the tucked-away area in the back, but mostly they slouched on pieces of luggage and scratched at purple eyes, unknowing of the scene unfolding out of sight. Read More

The Wee Hours

Alexander Wang x Busch Light

The Wee Hours: Fashion Gets Fratty for Alexander Wang's Keg Party

A few minutes before midnight on Sept. 10, The Observer walked along Pier 40 staring at the impaired skyline of Lower Manhattan, the lights from the buildings reflecting fuzzily on the water. Thus distracted, we failed to notice that  above the door of the pop-up structure that would host fashion designer Alexander Wang’s after-party were two Greek letters, not unlike those marking door frames on college campuses. We hadn’t realized that Mr. Wang had opted to forgo the usual Fashion Week postshow bash for something decidedly more sophomoric.

The most exciting designer in the world was throwing a frat party. Read More

The Wee Hours

From the flyer, downloaded off the Internet.

It’s Ryan Trecartin’s House Party, We’re Just Living In It

Where do we go from here?

It was still the last light of a late August day but the cement courtyard of PS1, in Long Island City, had already been taken over by video artist Ryan Trecartin and his massive DayGlo cadre of manic creative types to celebrate the closing of his show Any Ever, the subject of breathless praise all summer long. The name of the party, hosted by Dis Magazine, was “DIS_RT [REALTIME/RETWEET/RYAN TRECARTIN]” Read More

Fashion

Garo 4

The Corset King of Alphabet City

The Observer stood in the middle of a first-floor studio tucked into what may be the last ratty stretch of Avenue B, eyes closed and arms held aloft, and ducked into a leather chrysalis.

We were being fitted for a “man-corset,” an anachronistic emblem of female oppression that once gripped only courtly ladies but now in New York can outfit any gender.

Our shit was about to get tight. Read More

Dining

Diner off the rails!

The Wee Hours: The Last Days of M. Wells Diner

The general manager of M. Wells, perhaps one of the best-reviewed new restaurants of the year, didn’t want to talk about the sexual harassment scandal.
“The only people that know what transpired would be the server’s butt and the hand,” said Deven DeMarco.

The Observer sweated out the 7 train to Long Read More