I’ve been so busy during fashion month that I’ve completely forgotten about the delightful Marni and H&M collaboration. Yesterday was the launch no wonder all the Marni x H&M merchandise were gone by the time I popped by H&M store on Boulevard Hausmann last night before dinner. No surprises there. I wanted so many things from the collection — the quirky tops, all the polka dot items, the jacket with the patent leather panel on the front, the accessories, etc. It was a gorgeous, GORGEOUS collaboration.
I was so bitter last night for being empty-handed (no, I’m NOT gonna look up Marni x H&M on eBay) but then I woke up this morning with feeling relieved. I love these designer collaborations so much that I always end up not buying not just one or two items but the whole lot. Remember the Versace and Lanvin collaborations? I’ve spent so much money on those and frankly-speaking, the novelty had worn off after a week. What happened to all the clothes I bought? After shooting them for my blog, they’re probably gathering dust in my closet somewhere.
I’m going back to Stockhome and I mean Stockholm, land of H&M, early next week. When it comes to aesthetics, most Swedes are allergic to anything loud. Hopefully there are still some leftovers. Who knows. Otherwise, there’s real Marni — at least not everyone and their dog has em.
Feeling bitter is not a good feeling. Please make it go away.
Hopefully it will when I go to real Marni and of course, Prada.
As promised on Twitter earlier, here are some answers to some of your relationship & sex-related questions. I wanted to take a brief break from everything that’s going on my plate. It’s very therapeutic answering your questions.
Feel free to tweet me @bryanboy with your questions or ask them on the comments box. I’ll answer the ones I find interesting. No super graphic or explicit questions though, let’s keep everything R-Rated. You may ask anything and everything, of course, but I cannot guarantee you’ll get an answer.
Click click click!
My blog readers and twitter followers are oh so familiar with my luggage mishaps. What can I say — I’m a magnet for such encounters. Over the years I’ve had my bags lost (Florence), misdirected (Russia), delayed due to connecting flights, so on and so forth. But nothing was as traumatising as what I’ve experienced the other day.
Jorge, my very reliable driver in New York, was scheduled to pick me up at around 9AM at my hotel so I can catch my 12:30PM flight. I called my hotel’s front desk around 8:45 for luggage assistance. Blond Ben, the bellman, came up to my room. What a delight, I thought. We made the obligatory small chatter as soon as I opened the door. Where are you from? Philippines. Oh, you speak Tagalog? Yes. A friend of mine is Filipino, yaddi yaddi yadda. I gave him five bags — three of them oversized, brimming with stuff. I was still packing my hand luggage so I told him I’ll stay in my room for a few more minutes and he can go downstairs. He asked if I have a car or if I’m taking a cab. I said I have a car waiting downstairs. I instructed him to meet my driver, Jorge, downstairs and to save time (I’m in a rush), he can put my bags in the trunk. Quick, easy, efficient. I tipped him ten bucks for the favour.
I went downstairs about ten or so minutes later and my beloved Jorge was there waiting for me. After exchanging hugs, I lit a cigarette. I need my nicotine fix before that long car ride to JFK. I asked him how’s the traffic and he said it wasn’t that bad. Jorge then took two of my carry-on bags: my tote bag and my roller case. “Where’s the rest of your bags,” he asked.
I thought he was joking at first. I’ve worked with Jorge for years and he doesn’t flinch at the amount of luggage I bring. Ok, maybe except the time when I had an urgent meeting in NYC so I went there overnight and brought just one suitcase with me. He’s used to seeing me with more baggage than none.
“What do you mean?”
“Where’s the rest of your bags?”
“The bellman was supposed to bring it to you 20 minutes ago!”
To cut the long story short, the handsome Ben suddenly became numero uno on my personal shit list (Eva Mendes is high up there; I’ve just found out that she’s dating Ryan Gosling.) He inadvertently put all of my bags in this big, black SUV with OTHER passengers in it. And that car left! Nowhere to be found. Ditto with my luggage. My furs were there, my Prada was there, those wasabi peas my sister asked me to buy in bulk when I went to Tokyo before coming to New York were there, my New Year’s outfit was there, my vibrator was there, my soul was there.
I don’t know what drugs the bellmen were taking for suggesting that I wait for my bags because chances are, the other car will come back to the hotel to return the luggage. And then what, miss my long-haul flight? Then they suggested that I go to the airport and they’ll send another car to deliver my luggage. Like what, when I’m inside the airport?
I am NOT leaving Manhattan without my luggage. PERIOD.
I tried to keep my calm. I went to the front desk and asked to speak to a manager. Instead of letting me speak to authority, the guy at reception simply told me that they are aware of the situation and the Bell Manager is ‘working on it.’
I don’t know what miracle they did but they eventually got hold of the other car.
Jorge and I drove to where the car was and we were able to retrieve my bags. And I made my flight.
Can you imagine? What if the other car was a cab or a private car and not from a car service?
I don’t know what the moral lesson of this story.
I’m just happy to be reunited with my tranny box.
I’m looking for straight-forward answers to my straight-forward questions. Go!
(I apologize in advance for the pop-up results…)
Thanks guys! Feel free to post comments if you have any.
A couple of weeks ago, a friend of mine who works in PR whinged how one of her clients questioned a $12 Starbucks receipt when she asked to be reimbursed for expenses. My friend laughed it off, saying, “I can’t believe they questioned coffee with one of the editors when I got them over $2 million dollars worth of press that month”.
Like any werqing gurl with dreams of nice shoes, nice bags and nice jewishry, I mean, jewelry, my eyes ballooned to the size of dinner plates when I heard the phrase “two million dollars”.
The curious cat in me asked, “how did you come up with the two million dollar figure?”
She explained to me how PR companies have records of most magazine and newspapers’ circulation figures and rate cards. When a product receives exposure, they mathematically calculate the value of based on the type of coverage, the actual size, the images used, etc. She also told me how that value is multiplied twice or thrice if a product was shot in a fashion spread because it’s not a “write-up” and it looks more “legit and authentic” to the reader.
It’s all fascinating, isn’t it? Oh the things I learn each day…
While we’re on the subject of value…
I can’t remember (more like, I totally forgot) what I was searching earlier because I landed on Charitybuzz once again. It’s that amazing website that auctions unique experiences with proceeds going to charity. I’m no stranger to that site. I remember how they auctioned off a trip to American Vogue’s offices not too long ago.
Anyway, I was toying around the site until I discovered that they’ve auctioned off fashion show tickets as well.
That’s right — all for charity’s sake!
Take a look at the price of fashion show tickets: Rebecca Minkoff – $5,000, Rodarte – $10,000, Dennis Basso – $12,000, Rebecca Taylor – $5,000, L.A.M.B Gwen Stefani – $10,000, Nicole Miller – $10,000, BCBG Max Azria – $10,000, Theysken’s Theory – $15,000, Reed Krakoff – $4,000, J Mendel – $7,000, Vera Wang – $7,000.
Of course, some of these have value-added bonuses such as a free bag, dress or a coat, or quick ‘meet and greet’ sessions which last anywhere between the time it takes to exchange air kisses to a few minutes.
And then you have the $25,000 Victoria’s Secret fashion show and after party invitation which I’m sure many, horny, testosterone-laden middle-aged men with hairy backs would be willing to fork over a cheque. Heck, some Russian billionaire’s son (who has yet to be identified) gifted Zac Efron a $100,000 bottle of champagne.
Not many of them mentioned seat assignments (with the exception of Richard Chai who offered a front row seat for Richard $7,500) so for all you know, you could be sitting in row Siberia!
How much would a Texan oil billionaire’s daughter pay for my front-row Valentino spring/summer 2012 ticket? How much would a Chinese tai-tai shell out for my front-row Louis Vuitton show invite? An amount with too many zeroes, that’s for sure. Or maybe three words: PRICE UPON REQUEST.
In light of all these figures, I cannot help but think, holy rich people of the world batman, those fashion show invites are worth a goldmine! Think about all the shows, the seats, the meet and greets, backstage trips, both mens and women’s, which I’ve attended, have skipped or missed, over the past few years, for free mind you (ok if you want to be technical, all at the price of a plane ticket and bunking at hotels or apartments)… oh my gosh, I can’t even put a hypothetical dollar value in it! Can you?
I repeat — I know and I understand that it’s all for a good cause. I think it’s great that designers are contributing to such charitable efforts as well. Also, I have no qualms with the idea of people buying whatever brings them happiness (i.e. paying for material things or intangible experiences).
I’m still dumbfounded by all of this.
There are people who are sacrificing family time, personal relationships, health, sleep, quality of life, etc to go to the shows because of work, passion and love for the industry but for some, it’s all as easy as writing a check for a couple of thousand of dollars.