And The Biggest Shitshow Of Fashion Week Was...

by Taylor Stoddard · September 14, 2017

Last night was the “closing bell” for New York Fashion Week (thank god, because I’m exhausted) with very few competing parties after the Marc Jacobs show, so the Galore Magazine x Juicy Couture “NYFW Ball” at Public Hotel, hosted by Paris Hilton with a performance by Lil Kim, was bound to be chaos.

Hosted by Galore editors Prince + Jacob, and Juicy Couture’s creative director, Jamie Mizrahi, the event was intended to celebrate Paris Hilton, the first to grace the cover of Galore twice and the 2000s style icon who made the bubblegum pink Juicy tracksuit all the rage. In very Galore-fashion, the ultimate throwback Lil Kim was announced as the special performance, with DJ sets by industry favorite Mia Moretti alongside special appearances from it-girls like Jordyn Woods and Teyana Taylor – the recipe for what could have been a stellar party.

So, I thought I was outsmarting other partygoers by getting there at 10:30 p.m. (the event wouldn’t start officially until 11 p.m.), but the madness had already begun. It was a mob scene at every entrance to the hotel with masses spilling out onto the street. I managed to get myself as close to the side entrance as possible, the only place where PR people were in sight. The crowd grew exponentially at 11, and from my vantage point, there was no sign of an exit. Cue the panic attacks and claustrophobia. People were pressed up against each other, creating human waves and shoving forward like a fucked up game of Red Rover. While I was debating whether or not I wanted to leave, I heard a shriek from a group of girls in front of me – a friend had literally fainted from feeling suffocated. A girl unconscious on the ground didn’t seem to faze anyone, but increased the hysteria and discomfort. When she got herself on her feet, I heard her utter “I want to die.”

It was 11:30 p.m. with zero movement at front-of-house, and the event’s PR teams seemed to have disappeared. There were plenty of exhausting exclamations of “I’m actually on the guest list!” or “But I know Sebastian from Public!,” mixed with confirmation emails waving in the air, people claiming they know other so-and-sos, bribing security guards, all before giving up. The crowd tripled in size, and next thing you know, a horde of carousers plowed through security at the side entrance, knocking down the rope barriers and high top tables, and hauled ass towards the club door. People were getting smacked and trampled, and one girl started to scale the gutter, which had ripped off the brick wall. Others sprinted to areas where they thought they’d get lucky, losing shoes and clothing layers with no turning back. It was a fashion coup d'état. Security left their post at the entrance and moved quickly to the glass doors to shut the place down. No one was coming in or out, especially when the NYPD arrived.

The crowd had gotten so bad that people were busting through shrubbery and climbing trees like Rambo to either get away from the violent mobs or scurry to find “better entrances.” I bet Public Hotel’s security felt like Jon Snow in the Battle of the Bastards, only the Knights of the Vale weren’t coming to save them.

Seasoned journalists, influencers, and celebrities that were paid to attend were stuck outside with literally no idea where to go or who to ask for. The Fat Jewish (who wore a Calvin Klein sports bra set) was turned away along with The Bachelorette, Rachel Lindsay, and socialites like Andrew Warren, Logan Horne, Alex Assouline, and Ezra William who left looking defeated.

An anonymous publicist, shared, “This event took the cake for the most unorganized shit show known to man. Not a single PR person was present at the front door, which we all know from PR 101, someone should be out front grabbing editors and VIPs. My friends, some who were even paid by Juicy Couture to attend, couldn’t get in. When calls to the PR team were made, there was total radio silence, so we moved the party to the Top of the Standard. Plein has officially passed the torch of most chaotic after party to the girls clad in Couture.”

There were a few lucky ones that managed to avoid the anarchy, like one style writer who corroborated the scene inside and basically confirmed that we didn’t miss much. “Even though we were on the invite list, we had to finesse our way in through a side entrance only to find out what we’d worked so hard to see was an empty dance floor and an open bar that ended before the party itself even began. Two hours into it, the dance floor was still sparse and the overhyped celebrity guest lists were MIA. Paris Hilton made a brief appearance at the open bar (before it closed 30 minutes into the ‘party’) before ducking out to a VIP area, not to be seen again for some time. They just had this stupid projection on loop of Paris and Lil Kim and Jordyn Woods and it made me fucking dizzy."

Paris, I love you, but "Stars Are Blind" will never be worth getting trampled by stilettos.

#RIPNYFW.