Last night, I trekked to Brooklyn for an adidas fete celebrating "60 Years of Soles and Stripes" at a decked-out Williamsburg warehouse loft space. We arrived a bit unfashionably early and my friend Becca commented, "If this were a house, I'd call it the 'fourth estate'!" But our real faux-pas may have been that we showed up dressed exactly alike: leather skirt, black everything, all topped off with a cardigan. We considered pretending to be in a band until we ended up sitting next to a trio of Swedes(??) dressed in the same Acne versions of our outfits. One coolly told me, in her unrecognizable accent, "This champagne isn't even really champagne; I mean, it's from California!" before chugging her Andre. I guess it got the job done! Before we knew it, the warehouse filled up with similarly dressed folk -- with the exception of Adrian Grenier who got there first, claimed a prime spot, and milled about in full LA mode. The Phenomenal Handclap Band (unsigned, but with a clear HUGE fanbase) tore it up while people waved found-feathers in the air. All I know is, people looked like they were having a good time; maybe it was the booze, maybe all the hand-clapping, the feathers everywhere, or simply the ability to chain-smoke indoors. But by the time we bounced with our gift bags in check (including an Adidas sweatband for squash!), we knew we were leaving a happy place behind.
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