“I am too busy with the horses, I don’t have time to focus on those things,” Polo paramour Nacho Figueras told the Transom last Saturday evening when asked what he believed to be the biggest scandal of the summer. Mr. Figueras’ Black Watch team lost Saturday’s polo match at the second weekend of the Mercedes-Benz Polo Challenge in Bridgehampton. But the defeat did not keep the spaniel-haired horseman from revelry that evening. The Ralph Lauren ambassador arrived at the Calvin Klein/Vanity Fair-hosted ACRIA (AIDS Community Research Initiative of America) benefit, held at photographer Steven Klein’s Bridgehampton estate.
Mr. Figueras’ Argentine wife, Delfina Blacquier, lingered by her husband’s side in flowing, floor-length paisley. Since Mr. Figueras’ catapult to stateside stardom, cynical observers have wondered how Ms. Blacquier would fare holding the reins as her chukking hubby rose to royalty status in New York society.
As men and women alike doted on the polo player, Ms. Blacquier pranced off to pal around with Daphne Guinness, canvassing the dance floor arm in arm with the heiress. Ms. Blacquier greeted Rachel Zoe with a familiar hug and double kiss, and the old friends posed for pictures together.
Ms. Zoe, wearing a salmon, off-the-shoulder maxi dress, balked when asked to name the scandal of the summer. “Scandal? I don’t want to talk gossip!” whooped the original celebrity stylist-cum-Bravo star. “I have no idea, I am so out of it!”
Seen chatting with Sex and the City scribe Darren Star and Niche media publisher Jason Binn, Ms. Zoe reportedly went home with a Jeff Koons’ Curious George print, auctioned off at the event at a starting bid of $16,000. She also purchased a Ross Bleckner work.
Earlier in the evening, culinary colt and Billy Joel ex Katie Lee was caught perusing the Koons Curious George. Asked to name the scandal of the summer, the Southern brunette mused, “I don’t know, Snooki’s arrest today? I can’t believe that was the front page of the paper! It’s a sad state of the world, right?” she said, the crepe folds of her ivory-hued Calvin Klein Grecian sheath moving slightly in an unseasonably cool twilight breeze.
“What other scandals have happened this summer? I feel like it’s been a pretty scandal-less summer-I mean scandal-less, not scandalous.”
What does the celebrity chef do out east in the summer? “Lately, I like to just hang out at the beach. I learned how to surf last summer, so that’s been what I fill my days with mostly.”
The Figueras family are also surfing enthusiasts. In his Lothario lisp, Mr. Figueras told the Transom, “I go to the beach a lot. I have three kids, so we have to get them tired. My son Miguel is surfing now.”
Calvin Klein is a fellow beach fan. “I love to be near the beach,” he told the Transom over the gunshot-chic of M.I.A.’s “Paper Planes” emanating from the nearby speaker. “I’ve always had houses on the beach.”
Of his new role as editor of W, Stefano Tonchi, in a sleek, slate double-breasted jacket, told the Transom, “I’m just starting to enjoy it. We just finally closed on the first issue, so I can relax more.” Though when asked if he had any travel plans for August, the former T Magazine editor replied almost manically: “No! We start to close October next Monday. We just finished September. We are very late. We are very late with September, so there is no time in between.
“I live about one block that way,” he said, pointing south toward Montauk Highway. “I could have walked here,” the long-faced Italian paused, “but I didn’t.”
Ms. Guinness, a house guest of Steven Klein, arrived surreptitiously from Mr. Klein’s home rather than via the main entrance along the vineyard-lined allée down which the rest of the guests made their way. Symmetrically placed tiki torches lined the path like valets at attention, and the guests ferried the half-mile from road to party in a relay of golf carts.
“I think everything should be worn upside down,” the eccentric and extravagantly groomed heiress purred about her oversize tear-shaped diamond cluster worn on the upper cartilage of her ear in the manner of an elf. Gowned in a floor-length, long-sleeved Calvin Klein that glimmered like metallic fish scales, Ms. Guinness swung from the tent pole like Gene Kelly on the lamppost in Singin’ in the Rain.
She asked the Transom if she looked O.K., lamenting, “Steven’s house has no light, I couldn’t see what I was doing!” On her head, an ornate nest of jewels and a laser-cut objet from Japan were crowned with a generous draping of rain-cloud-colored tulle. The spectacle of her head wear was like a flamboyant fantasy version of Olivia de Havilland’s metallic and headdressed Maid Marian in Michael Curtiz’s 1938 The Adventures of Robin Hood.
Calvin Klein creative director Francisco Costa playfully posed with Ms. Guinness, looping the draped tulle over his own head and trying on her limb-length wrought-iron arm cuff. Permanently sullen DJ Leigh Lezark of the Misshapes was meanwhile spinning Goldfrapp.
“I love the beach, but I really love the mountains,” Mr. Costa told the Transom. “I grew up in the mountainside, so it brings me back to my childhood.” The Transom then asked the designer what type of Adidas he paired so chicly with his starched white blouse and fitted gray jeans. “Samba!” He waved both arms as if shaking invisible maracas. “Sam-ba, sam-ba, sam-ba,” thrusting a hip with each double syllable. “Sam-ba, sam-ba, sam-ba!”
