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Oscar Week Diary: Night Five/Six/Seven (But Mostly Night Six)

Oscar Week Diary: Night Five/Six/Seven (But Mostly Night Six)

This past weekend was the end of a very special and exhausting week for us, Los Angeles, and the entire world: the Academy Awards weekend. We had gone to parties and had seen celebrities and had eaten and drunk and did this and that and etc. and etc. We had the chance to peek into a world we knew existed in this city but that we never thought we’d actually be able to actually witness. We learned how glamorous, how decadent, and just how weird it all can be: thank God we got to experience it.

Friday, like Wednesday, we had off and used the time to attempt to attend Terry Richardson’s Hollywood themed Terrywood show. It seemed entirely too appropriate for us to try to attend it and it was even more appropriate for us to be turned away well before we even approached the show (I e-mailed the OH WOW people about getting in and they said it was “general entry,” which it very obviously was and wasn’t, every “hipster” in the city clogging the La Cienega/Santa Monica intersection trying to get in, only to see counter culture celebrities gaining entry). The night ended up being quite low key and anti-high glam, consisting of us and two in-from-out-of-town friends grabbing a little dinner and a more-expensive-than-we-thought $60 bottle of wine, which is what you get when you ask for “a nice Pinot Noir” to a waiter. What a bungle! I bet that doesn’t happen to a celebrity. Call us common, everyone!

To go to the complete opposite of what we did Friday, Saturday evening was our Oscar Week conclusion, which was the laid back, cool DJ night held at the old Golden Bridge Yoga location. I looked the place up before attending and went, “Huh. That looks like the old Golden Bridge Yoga building.” Sure enough, when we arrived and went to the strange unisex bathroom, the signs on the inside of the door still had the notes from Golden, urging toilet users not to dispense their holy feminine hygiene products down the holy toilets. Protect their plumbing that isn’t theirs anymore!

Oscar Week Diary: Night Five/Six/Seven

Sat Nam, y’all! Whatever that means.

Anyway, the location was actually very, very great, kind of like an unfinished warehouse still with working amenities. If you need to have an event for lots of people with lots of space, this is your place!

We had originally planned to walk to the event but, remembering my checklist of things to do, we rolled up at 10PM in the still-not-even-remotely-cleaned black 2001 Volkswagen New Beetle, in effort to make everyone honor it and understand it’s artistic value. That may have happened because everyone looked at us when we got out of the car? Maybe they were just looking at me? That could have been the case because I went all out and wore hot pink short shorts, a chambray shirt, a pink/blue bow tie, and a brown leather jacket to tie it altogether (AKA, I was C O L D). Another thing to check off!

The event was hosted by L’Oréal Paris and Fiat in addition to VF, all to benefit the Pablove Foundation. It was a pretty packed event, too. Lots and lots and lots of people, many of which were young and cool looking: it was the most atypical VF event. It actually felt like…a Los Angeles event. Lots of people trying to be seen, wearing ridiculous clothes, lots of colors, a decent amount of dancing, lots of pretty-looking-but-not-famous people: it was an LA party. This was most apparent because everyone looked normal and likely was normal because there weren’t really any celebrities we knew there. There were lots and lots and lots of “Who dat?” celebrities, people plucked from obscurity or on the rise, some actually people we knew but could not place a finger on how they were familiar. Case in point: the two celebrities below.

Oscar Week Diary: Night Five/Six/Seven

Any guesses as to who they are? I will give you a high five if you can guess them. The left is Jorja Fox, who looked like her off-duty CSI character, and on the right is Alicia Witt, star of Urban Legend, also known as THE ONLY MOVIE EVER MADE THAT MATTERS. Those were the only two celebrities that I knew of at the party and, unfortunately, I did not recognize them nor do I think I’d have anything to say aside from what hair dye David Caruso uses and “Even though the killer only wore a coat with a big hood, you couldn’t tell who the killer was? Really? Really.” We heard that Dianna Agron was going to be making an appearance, to which we would have blog gabbed, but–alas–she didn’t make it. Thus, no questions were asked of the celebrities at the DJ night. That box will go unchecked forever…or at least until I next am at an event with one.

We wanted to also check off “inciting a dance party” but there was some dancing already being had and, really, the first DJ looked too much like Isabella Rossellini for me to feel comfortable dancing unless she was there with me in a bug costume. See?

Oscar Week Diary: Night Five/Six/Seven

That’s her, right? Right?? (No, it was DJ Daisy O’Dell, who was fantastic.)

The second group of DJs were one of the most captivating at the party because they looked like European sex robots made by Lady Gaga. You have to see them to believe me:

Oscar Week Diary: Night Five/Six/Seven

Right? Right???? They were DJ/sister-sister/model duo from Australia, Nervo. They were pretty great–but not as great as those outfits. The one on the right looked like you could see straight up inside of her Christmas, a Rubyism I am happy to share to explain just how short her skirt was. The one of the left was quite a bit more understated in her Grecian looking robo-dress. Nevertheless, they both looked like sexy versions of Dot Matrix from Spaceballs so we applaud them for bearing that fashion cross.

For the other two items (trying all the hors d’ourves and getting absurd cocktails), we about half did that. We had just eaten dinner so we were pretty OK on food, although there was a tempting tray of what looked like giant deconstructed egg rolls mashed together with ice cream cones filled with tuna. The drinks were also a little limited, only reserved for white wine and vodka drinks, usually arriving in the form of the party’s drink-of-choice Gimlet. The Gimlet was super great and was a grapefruit, vodka, something else drink, garnished with a flower. The drink went fast and was very, very cold, making you wish you had gloves to hold them with. The ways you suffer for a drink in this town, I tell you!

The Saturday DJ party was a very fun event, where we actually met a lot of really great people we’d never met before: this was definitely the most laid back, easy-to-meet-people party. As expected, we hung out with our VF buddies for much of the night along with Devon and James, our buddies who were our partners in crime at the events (AKA, “our friends from dinner on Monday”).

As expected, we done tore up the Digital Photobooth again. You can take a look at the photographic spoils below and here as well.

Oscar Week Diary: Night Five/Six/Seven

Speaking of, we had our photo taken by a Vanity Fair photographer! How exciting? Unfortunately, the photo is not available yet/wasn’t taken by Getty Images, the people who have been supplying the party photos to us.

But, take a look at this one below:

Oscar Week Diary: Night Five/Six/Seven (But Mostly Night Six)

Find anything familiar? Anything of note? Anyone you know?? Look again.

Oscar Week Diary: Night Five/Six/Seven

KABOOM: that’s me. Talking up Vanity Fair buds, Terrence and Kristine.

Don’t scoff: that is me. Let me give you a closer look, mainly for the sake of everyone in my family who is reading this and taking out their scrapbooks to add this photo to the mix.

Oscar Week Diary: Night Five/Six/Seven

~*~iM uR bIgGeSt fAn I’LL fOLLoW u UnTiL u LoVe Me PaPa-PaPaRaZZi~*~

That song about sums up my feelings right now. It was a great week that ended with the Oscars, which we did not watch since we do not have cable and had to prep posts for today, our Sunday day-into-night ritual of work. However, we did enjoy the fleet of helicopters, blimps, walkers, runners, drivers, etc. who were visiting Hollywood just to get a glimpse of anything almost famous, all of which we dealt with whenever we left the apartment since we are two blocks from the Kodak Theatre. We were honored to have participated in Vanity Fair’s pre-Oscar festivities and, who knows, maybe next year we’ll be asked to join the red carpet brigade like other websites have got to do yesterday.

Maybe? Probably not. But, if you are reading this Joan Rivers, it has been my dream since I was eight to play Fashion Police with you. My e-mail is [email protected] if you want to get in touch with me about next year’s Oscars. I have LOTS of great ideas already.

Thank you for your time and love you all.
Xoxo
Gossip Gay
AKA KYLE

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