KCD's darling, Hallie Chrisman. (Patrick McMullan)

Navigating the realm of fashion publication relations can be a difficult job. For in-house publicists and leading New York PR firms, such as KCD, PR Consulting, Karla Otto, Starworks, Bismarck Phillips and HL Group—fashion week is a marathon: RSVP-management, developing press releases, endless email chains, photography and artistic direction, event and runway production, front-of-house organization, seating charts and VIP affairs!

Scheduling and logistical nightmares are frequent; editor struggles occur; and drama is a guarantee. For international firms, the chaos continues in Milan and Paris. Even more maddening, some publicists have red carpet dressing to deal with for the Grammys and fast-approaching Oscars!

It took some effort, but The Observer hunted the striking Hallie Chrisman, Publicity Director at KCD— to get the scoop on what her life has been like of late…

What does fashion week equate for you?

Since I go to London and Paris it’s actually more like fashion month—to me it equates to training for a marathon, you have to make sure you don’t burn yourself out in the beginning. New York is always the most all-consuming, as we each have our own shows we individually oversee and then are staffed to work the 20-plus shows and events we handle for New York Fashion Week. Once the team goes to Europe we generally focus more on the U.S. press aspect of each client’s show, as well as providing support to any shows our Paris office is handling. So, as I said, it’s a marathon.

KCD is everywhere, with a blue-chip roster of clients! How do you balance it all?

I’m very fortunate to love what I do and where I work, however when it’s not fashion week(s) (or the CFDA Awards, or the Victoria’s Secret show, or another major project) I always make time to see friends and travel to maintain a healthy balance between my work and personal life.

When you need a break, where is your go-to for a drink or good eats during fashion week?

One Lucky Duck Juice Bar—it is located conveniently across the street from the office in Chelsea Market. I love the Strawberry Blonde shake and then I always get a ginger shot to stave off the inevitable fashion week cold.

Take us to a show—where are you? What are you doing? We saw you at Wang!

It depends on the show, at some shows I am running the backstage press and photographers, while at others you will find me inside the venue helping seat guests and greeting the editors, retailers and VIPs.

How many people try to crash shows and after parties? Any good stories?

There are always some crashers but they are pretty easy to spot and we run a pretty tight ship so we don’t get as many as you might think. Some doors—you might not get crashers per se but more fans who will just wait outside to watch and see who is entering and exiting the event. Even though they will never get in, you have to at least give them credit for their dedication.

What celebrities are incredible to work with? Is GPS like fashion week “Big Brother?”

Fashion GPS was initiated when KCD PR approached Fashion GPS President Edwin Mullon to create a cutting edge technology to control inventory management and then events management. It’s so great that most of the industry uses it so we are all on one system to make editors, retailers and our lives easier!

Which editors do you look forward to seeing during fashion week? Who has the best style?

I wouldn’t be a very good publicist if I played favorites now would I? A lot of my close friends are actually fashion editors so it’s always great to see friends and catch up (if only briefly) during fashion week.

Any fun nightlife plans? What will be the best after party?

I try to stay under the radar during New York or else I don’t think I would be able to make it through Europe; however I try and stop by my client’s after parties if I can. Jason Wu and Prabal Gurung both threw great after parties this season and then of course there was the Miu Miu party we handled and the CFDA Impact Exhibit opening party at FIT, which kicked off the year-long celebration of the CFDA ’s 50th anniversary.

Best part of being a fashion publicist?

Getting to do what I love every day and working with some of the most talented, smart and interesting minds in the industry. Plus going to London and Paris twice a year isn’t too bad either!

It’s all over! Where do you flee to rejuvenate?

I try and get away for a weekend once I get back from Paris. This season I am planning on visiting friends in Austin for a long weekend. I also always start making my summer vacation plans during fashion week in February, this summer it will be several trips to Nantucket and is also looking like a week in Turkey.

Limited Brands will take floors 14 through 17 in the expansion and will now occupy about 500,000 square feet in the roughly 700,000 square foot property. The company, formerly known as The Limited, is represented by a team from the real estate services firm CBRE, led by CBRE's New York area Chief Executive Mary Ann Tighe and executives Eric Deutsch and Ken Meyerson.

1740 Broadway (Courtesy Property Shark)

Ms. Tighe and Mr. Meyerson couldn’t be reached by press time. Mr. Deutsch declined to comment.

An in-house leasing team at Vornado led by one of the company’s top leasing executives, Glen Weiss, handled the deal on behalf of ownership. Mr. Weiss could not be reached.

A media contact at Limited Brands didn’t get back to The Commercial Observer by press time.

Sources say that rents in the lease are in the $60s per square foot and that the length of the deal stretches 10-years, so that the company’s new space will expire at the same time as its existing offices, which run for another decade.

Limited Brands first inked a deal at 1740 Broadway in 2006, signing one of the biggest leases of the year then, a 320,000 square foot transaction for a cluster of floors. According to reports at the time, Vornado had wooed the large tenant to the property in part by conducting a multimillion dollar renovation there.

The deal isn’t the only large lease that Vornado, which is one of the city’s largest landlords, is in the process of arranging. The company is said to be closing in on a roughly 200,000 square foot deal with the financial firm Guggenheim Partners at 330 Madison Avenue, another midtown office building owned by Vornado that it has recently spent millions of dollars renovating.

DGeiger@Observer.com

Illo: Peter Arkle

The first thing we noticed about the den of Angels was the smell.

Hours before the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show, the creaky freight elevator in the Lexington Avenue Armory rattled up to the fifth floor. As the doors opened, a sharp tang of beauty-product acid smacked up against us, a collision of perfumes cut with a sweet whiff of lotions, the clouds of hairspray gushing from big bottles and wafting throughout the space. Past two aisles of models in pink gowns, beyond the couch where the most beautiful women in the world sat tonging mounds of salad with silver implements, was Karlie Kloss, a St. Louis native who, at 19 years of age, may be the most important model in the world.

“You don’t need any glitter, Nate?” Ms. Kloss asked The Observer, offering a hand with a big gloop of the shiny stuff. “It’s not the look you’re going for today? You don’t want to be an Angel?”

“Well, of course, if you need someone else for the show …”

“Put on some wings—I have an extra pair!” she said giggling. “In case someone drops out last-minute.”

The makeup artist was dabbing the girl’s eyelids with a soft purple, and when she was done Ms. Kloss batted them at her, and then at us, practicing. Though not the only model making her debut in wings—she was among a freshman class of 12 girls, the largest ever—Ms. Kloss had become the de facto face of the newcomers due to her startlingly young age and, well, her face. For some, this is a problem. Over the years, this unapologetic spectacle of skin has gone unmolested by the torchbearers of family values (it airs on CBS on Nov. 29), but it has rankled some to hear that such a young lass would be strutting the runway in the skimpiest of lingerie.

As her sisters in this elite sorority massed at the other end of the room—their hair curled, straightened and extended, their tan skin shimmering and immaculate—Kanye West made his entrance, at which point each Victoria’s Secret Angel walked over to pay her respects, supplicants to a priest. The cameramen clamored to get their shots.

“I think he’s the center of attention,” noted VS Angel Chanel Iman, who was once linked to the rapper romantically.

We stood around chatting with Miranda Kerr, an Australian model, about the $2.5 million bra she would wear that night. Lily Donaldson, a British model, told us of her passion for cooking Thanksgiving dinner for her fellow expats in New York.

But it was Ms. Kloss who put things in perspective. “Oh, my god,” she said, looking around at the other models. “I grew up in St. Louis—I’m an American girl, so you grow up and you idolize the Victoria’s Secret Angels. They set the standard of beauty in the eyes of teenage girls. I feel like I’m living the dream.”

On our way out, we ran into a serviceman in uniform. After spending three hours with women in their underwear, it can be easy to forget that this huge, antiquated edifice is, for the rest of the year, an armory.

“I work here, and I usually take today off,” he said. “But, hey, it could be worse.”

“In 2007, I was supposed to perform at this show,” Kanye West said later as he prepared to go on. “But I lost my superhero, and now she’s my superangel.”

Mr. West’s remembrance of his mother, who died a few days before his scheduled appearance, was a somber moment. The night’s only somber moment. What followed was an hour of street dancing, trapeze stunts, ballet routines, and clothes and the lack of clothes. There are no metaphors at the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. A rose is not a rose—a rose is a two-story bed of petals each the size of a Volkswagen Jetta. The runway etiquette of Milan and Paris seems quaint when you see the models breaking whatever shallow fourth wall once existed to whoop and wave as their fellow Angels pass.

Desperate to top itself even as it unfolds, the show’s final act featured human cartoon character Nicki Minaj performing in the middle of a knot of graffiti-covered b-boy dancers. Rainbow confetti blanketed the air. Koonsian balloon dogs washed in glitter descended from the ceiling. The procession of models continued—they wore pink pajamas, slathered chrome, little orbs that looked like Dippin’ Dots, neon wings, futuristic heel-boots: a slumber party staged in a Blade Runner dystopia.

And closing the show was Karlie Kloss, who attained her own personal American Dream by walking down the runway in a dress that resembled a disco ball.

It would not be her last outfit of the night. In the back right corner of the Gallery at Dream, Ms. Kerr stood with husband Orlando Bloom (who declined to comment, offering The Observer no more than a bro hug), Maroon 5’s Adam Levine (with Angel girlfriend Anne V) and Leonardo DiCaprio, who was puffing on an electronic cigarette.

Then, suddenly, there was Ms. Kloss. She had opted for a backless black dress and massive heels. She had to lean down to peck us on the cheek.

“Was it everything you imagined and more?” we asked.

Ms. Kloss smiled.

“It was fantastic,” she said. The eyes of the world’s biggest movie stars—Mr. DiCaprio, Jake Gyllenhaal, even the married Mr. Bloom—homed in on the teenager. She didn’t return their glances.

“I can’t believe it’s over,” she said.

nfreeman@observer.com

Mr. West.

Last week in Paris, Kanye West unleashed his first line of womenswear. It received mixed reviews , with critics harping on the poor fittings and messily dreamed-up designs. Mr. West was unfazed, and defended his choices in an extended rant at Club Silencio, David Lynch's oddball foray into nightlife locales. “This is my first collection," he said, according to a WWD report. "Please be easy. Please give me a chance to grow. This is not some celebrity s—. I don’t f— with celebrities."

Now he's headed back to the runway, but this time he'll be doling out lyrics instead of looks. Kanye West will be among the performers at the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show, which will fill the 69th Street Armory with floats, feathers, frills and other fancy pretty things November 9. The company announced the lineup on its website today.

Maroon 5 will perform as well. That band's lead singer, Adam Levine, is dating Anne Vyalitsyna, one of the lingerie line's go-to models.

Mr. West is a comically appropriate choice. He'll be surrounded by the cinema-scope opulence he thrives in. His love for Victoria's Secret models is one of the few constants in his wildly oscillating career trajectory. When he was on Twitter, he only followed Victoria's Secret models. And apparently, he's dating one, Chanel Iman. She is twenty years old.

The Observer attended the show last year. Here's a taste of what it was like.

The highlights were extensive and hard to pick out, or even distinguish, from the entirety of the show. The Victoria’s Secret models came out dressed like sailors, peacocks, cowgirls, Nascar pit crews, boxers, Amazon princesses and their natural angel garb — all while managing to wear basically nothing at all, of course. The country club scenery featured Aryan clones sculpted like Greek statues, while jungle scenery featured dark-skinned men with face paint dancing with arms akimbo. The closest the thing came to understatement was when the models just wore underwear.

We don't think anyone will doubt the fittings on this occasion.

For those unable to see the spectacle live, it will air November 29, at 10:00 pm, on CBS.

"Welcome to Club Victoria," a voice echoed over the sound system. Then the voice said to turn off all mobile devices. "If you have to be on your phone during a show like this, you have other problems."

The highlights were extensive and hard to pick out, or even distinguish, from the entirety of the show. The Victoria's Secret models came out dressed like sailors, peacocks, cowgirls, Nascar pit crews, boxers, Amazon princesses and their natural angel garb — all while managing to wear basically nothing at all, of course. The country club scenery featured Aryan clones sculpted like Greek statues, while jungle scenery featured dark-skinned men with face paint dancing with arms akimbo. The closest the thing came to understatement was when the models just wore underwear.

Akon sang a song while endless pairs of endless legs walked up and down the runway next to him. Katy Perry belted "Firework" as sparkly purple mushroom clouds somehow clung to her as a dress. Vin Diesel fist-pumped in the front row the entire time.

When the spectacle ended, balloons fell from the rafters and lilted unnoticed onto the heads of the unsuspecting audience. No one knew the balloons were falling, because every set of eyes was locked on the line of models exiting the stage.

Outside, The Observer ran into Adrian Grenier. We asked if he knew any of the models in a personal way.

"No," he said. Then he paused. "Well, Alessandra was in "Entourage," but I don't really know her beyond that."

He didn't elaborate. 

We told him we'd see him at the after party, at Lavo. An assistant whisked him into a car and we walked to the 6 train.

At 10:46 p.m. we got a text saying that Paris Hilton had arrived at Lavo. The subterranean rock-lined den beneath the restaurant of the same name was already air-tight, and the only breathing room was reserved for the row of bottle-service-clad tables. There were Victoria's Secret models tending bar, Victoria's Secret models walking around with strawberry and vanilla Stoli cocktails, Victoria's Secret models dancing with Russell Simmons, and Victoria's Secret models offering trays of tuna tartare. Also, the TVs played the tape of that night's Victoria's Secret Fashion Show. Michael Bay was there.

Then Paris Hilton arrived, and everything changed. Derek Blasberg, nominally an editor at Style.com but really just a runway and party attendee, escorted her to her table, where her sister Nicky and chilled bottles of Champagne awaited. As flash bulbs popped and smokers stealthily lit cigarettes, we greeted Paris Hilton.

"I thought it was fantastic as always," she told The Observer, of the show. "I love Katy Perry, she really rocked it tonight."

What about your budding music career, Paris?

"Well, I'm finishing my new album right now, so next year."

Any plans to play at, say, the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show?

"I think it would be an honor."

Katy Perry arrived shortly after and took over a nook beside Akon, Maroon 5, and their respective entourages. When the DJ started spinning "Sexy Bitch," on which Akon sings the hook, his crew and the people around him began shouting — "Yeah, 'Kon! Sing it, 'Kon!" — until he propped himself up on the seat and danced, pointing to the crowd. Later, when "California Gurls" came on, Katy Perry climbed on the ledge beside the table and let everyone marvel at her, hovering above them like a busty, elegant figurehead on an old ship.

The Observer spoke with Katy later in the night. Well — we asked about her performance but she smiled that big cartoon smile and said she wasn't doing interviews. We turned around to find that we were actually standing at Maroon 5's table, where perenially stubbled lead singer Adam Levine snuggled with girlfriend Anne Vyalitsyna. Anne Vyalitsyna is very much one of the Victoria's Secret angels, and very much stunning in person. She is both wonderful and amazing, Mr. Levine assured us. 

Then, in that same scrum of female beauty and rock star excess, we found Twitter co-founder Evan Williams drifting in the middle. We had seen him before standing with partner Biz Stone — who appears in commercials for party-sponsor Stoli — talking to Adrian Grenier, who had twitpic'd himself grooving on the Lavo dancefloor earlier that night. We asked if there were any big names at the party who had yet to jump on the Twitter bandwagon. Paris? No, she has a Twitter, Evan told us. 

"Wait, Paris Hilton is here?" he asked.

We nodded, pointed directly behind him, and then Twitter co-founder Evan Williams had a chat with Paris Hilton.

nfreeman [at] observer.com | @nfreeman1234 

"I cannot come here," Fernanda Motta told the Daily Transom the other night at Le 55 in the meatpacking district, "because I love Italian food."

Despite the inherent danger—every carb-laden bite of pasta a potential career-ender for the slender, four-time Sports Illustrated bikini babe—Ms. Motta and her husband, Roger Rodriguez, remain partners in the renamed, revamped and relaunched restaurant, formerly known as Merkato 55, located at 55 Gansevoort Street. (The couple also owns a stake in two restaurants in her native Brazil, she noted. Any good? "Yeah, they're pretty good, to be honest with you," the none-too-modest model asserted.)

On Thursday night, May 28, the 5-foot-10 blue-eyed brunette celebrated her 28th birthday ("that doesn't mean I'm old!" Ms. Motta insisted after sparkler-wielding servers presented her with a five-tiered cake) during an intimate dinner with friends at the balloon-strewn restaurant.

For the occasion, Ms. Motta wore sparkly Lorraine Schwartz-designed jewelry and a short white dress that slightly resembled a toga. ("What's that?" she asked. "Like a Roman? Oh no! Don't you like it?")

The event doubled as a sort of coming-out party for the eatery's newest chef, Philip Guardione, formerly of the Four Seasons Hotel in Milan.

A fashionable crowd, including fellow models Alessandra Ambrosio, Renata Klem and Julie Henderson, pecked at plates of sole with ratatouille, oyster risotto, and grilled cod with spinach, followed by a light dessert of pistachio cake with rasberry sauce.

Opened with much fanfare in Feburary 2008, the originally African-themed restaurant earned just a one-star review in The New York Times, eventually cut ties with its initial media-darling chef Marcus Samuelssen, and recently re-emerged as a popular boozy brunch spot.

"We have great PR people," Ms. Motta explained of the eatery's newfound daytime popularity. "Also, we have great DJs."

Doesn't she worry that moonlighting in the restaurant industry will ultimately ruin her slim figure?

"I try to come eat, like, maybe not too much," she said. "Otherwise I eat it all!"

Her favorite indulgence?

"The pesto lasagna," she said. "It is thrilling!"

The fashion and retail industries are funneling double the amount of contributions into Barack Obama's campaign than they are into John McCain's campaign, even though retail execs usually like Republicans, due to their more relaxed stance on taxes. [WWD]

The Brooklyn Industries store in Park Slope has put Barack Obama masks on all its mannequins. [Racked]

Catherine Malandrino on her new Los Angeles store: “Los Angeles is so much a part of the worldwide scene that it’s not about just this market, but about the customer overall — a worldwide traveler, a sophisticated woman who could live anywhere — Los Angeles, New York, Paris."[WWD]

Victoria's Secret has bought out the Lounge space on Broadway between Prince and Houston in order to create a 24,000 square-foot superstore, which will open next year. [P6]

Kanye West was sadly absent from last night’s Victoria’s Secret fashion show—where he was supposed to perform—at the Kodak Theater in L.A. Helping to fill the "College Dropout"’s void was a spectacular occurrence—a Spice Girls reunion. By the looks of this picture on the red carpet, it probably shouldn't happen again anytime soon. (It will.) The photo of the ladies, who presumably performed to promote the recent release of a greatest hits album, is, we think, kind of hysterical and very telling. It seems a lot has changed in the decade following their pop apex, "If You Want to Be My Lover." Scary looks posh; Baby looks scary; Sporty looks like a character in Working Girl; Ginger looks, well, the same—but older. Then, of course, there’s Posh, who appears either truly mortified to be standing next to her former band mates or heavily sedated. Or both.

Brrrr! PETA magnet and Vogue editor-in-chief Anna Wintour takes to the tents.

Doesn't designer Lela Rose, former employer of Barbara Bush, look eerily like a Gore Girl?

Nicole Romano presents a look suitable for Victoria's Secret "Angels" line.

Silver foxes! Anderson Cooper and Charlie Rose en route to Diane Von Furstenberg, whom we always used to confuse with Coop's mom Gloria Vanderbilt in the early 80's.

For anyone out there who plans to pull off wearing a pair of 3 or 4 inch heels all day during pictures and all night long at their wedding, I offer you mad props. Apologies to Manolo and company, but heels KILL ME. I'm talking Quentin Tarantino, mad violence sort of pain. There's no way in hell I'd even consider keeping heels on all night without making plans to leave the reception in a wheelchair.

High-wedge thongs, 3 1/4" heel, they're genius.

So I'm happy to report my search has ended. Shockingly, these fantabulous flip flops recently featured on Weddingbee.com come from Victoria's Secret. And they only cost $11!

Granted, they are kind of ugly, but they clock in at a whopping three and a quarter inches of fierce, flip flop heel height. For a girl like me who is 5'4" (OK, I'm 5'3", but I lie about it so much, I've convinced myself I'm officially one inch taller), these are just what the doctor ordered.