Gone are the days, apparently, when showing up in a gaggle of leggy types to a premier Fashion Week party guarantees one access. For its rooftop launch party, the Standard had just as many (if not more) good-looking people on the outside as the inside. Yet somehow I was able to Jedi mind-trick the bouncers and enter anyway. First celeb spotted? Madonna, followed by Devon Aoki and Chanel Iman, who I’m sure was sober as a priest.

The richly decorated Art Deco-styled space felt properly indulgent, with the bar encircling a large column before winding its way to sumptuous couches occupied by investors and their wives—very société. Even the staff had matching Great Gatsby garb, the bartenders in crisp white jackets with black trim. The highlight of my evening (besides the rubber bodice-clad GILF gyrating against the floor-to-ceiling windows) was my run-in with Andre and Purples’ Olivier Zahm. Andre complimented me on my dress and I complimented him on his ability not to tackle the les jeunes femmes on Alexander Wang’s runway that afternoon.