Whew! What a couple of weeks. As much as I like a good party, it’s been much. Ordinarily I can handle one event a week, maximum. Last week we had a simultaneous Patricia Field party at the store and the new Veselka for Fashion’s Night Out: There are some good photos here:
Paulina, me, and Luke Vahle in our FNO party gear:
Two days later Patricia, who is working with Maybelline, had a private party in her home for the Maybelline delegates from China. They were absolutely lovely people and included a celebrity from Shanghai, who one of the girls told me is a huge star on television over there, with a plethora of female fans. He was a super cute little guy in hip gear and porkpie hat, trailed by a 6′ tall, incredibly gorgeous asian model. He seemed accustomed to being a big deal, but was very friendly. I thought how funny it is that everything is relative; here none of us have a clue and in another setting some Chinese girl would lose her mind being in such close proximity. Celebrity is so arbitrary.
Cut to this week, my girl Zoe’s husband Handsome Dick Manitoba was scheduled to sing two songs at a Road to Recovery event honoring Slash. I was beyond excited to be Zoe’s date for the evening, as I love me some Slash and Duff McKagan. I spent a decent amount of time around them back in the day. was backstage at most of their shows in NY, they hung out often in the scene at the Scrap Bar, and one time Bebe Buell and I were flown to Wisconsin by CSFH’s lawyer for an action-packed Skid Row/GnR show weekend. We hung out with Skid Row mostly, and it was obvious that Axl was starting to drive his bandmates insane by then. Stephanie Seymour was there and it took hours before Axl would get onstage. I had one glimpse of Slash that night looking very tense outside their dressing room door, and we didn’t venture into their realm that night.
And then lastly, in my GnR hang out chronicles, Duff once picked me up at Scrap Bar and took me in his limo to a party in their hotel room. All strictly platonic, he’s a very gracious person who would do things like that. We had a great time in the ride, he had a friend with him and they poured me a drink and we watched the city roll by out the limousine window. It was a classic New York rock and roll night and I haven’t been up close to him in person since then, so I was very much looking forward to having the opportunity to say hello some 20 years later.
Zoe and I are overgrown teenagers, so she said, “You know, this event is dry. Should we bring a flask?” I didn’t have one and neither did she, so she offered to buy a couple of small bottles to hide on our personage (i.e. panties). Keepin’ it classy. Of course I said yes, a little airplane bottle would be just right. If we are rocking out and want a little swig, it’ll be there. Cue to the cab, Zoe opens her bag and pulls out two giant fifths of the ever-elegant Smirnoff:
I should do commercials for them, right? I laughed and said, “Girl, first of all, there is no way we’re fitting these in our pants, and second, if we did drink all this we would end up in the hospital!” Zoe agreed and said she got carried away by the flatness of the bottle, thinking it would be easy enough to hide. We decide that the prudent thing to do is take a few swigs in the cab and leave the bottles outside the venue for some happy bum to find. Which we do. And although we probably could have snuck them in in our bags, something tells me that we were better off leaving this much alcohol behind prior to entering a benefit for substance abuse.
The show was great. Richard (Handsome Dick) killed it with a cover of Kick Out the Jams, and we were able to watch from backstage at the side of the stage. Seeing Slash and Duff perform in such close proximity flashed me back to a time when I was dating Slam Thunderhide of Zodiac Mindwarp and the Love Reaction and they opened for GnR. I stood in a similar spot, side of stage, watching some of the same people. I felt a bit wistful for a moment. It seemed only a minute ago that we were in the thick of it: young and beautiful, vying for and garnering rock star attention. The world was a different place and possibilities were infinite. Now I am just another middle aged woman with a backstage pass. But it was fun while it lasted and I am grateful that I can still wrangle that pass once in a while.
Prior to the show I pounced on Duff in the dressing room, and said, “Hi Duff, it’s Raff, from the Cycle Sluts. Do you remember me?” He was very friendly but he paused and cocked his head in confusion. After the show, back in the same room I said, “I’m a little sad that you don’t remember me.” He replied, “No, I do. It’s just that much of my past is a blur. I had to go through my mental rolodex. Did we…did I…?”
I laughed and said, “NO! Not at all, nothing untoward. All friendly and good.” We talked a little bit about writing; he has a book coming out and writes a column for the Seattle Weekly, and I felt happy to have made the connection.
Slash seemed uninterested when I introduced myself, but as he was leaving he sort of leaped in and gave me a hug and said, “It’s so good to see you! I never see anyone from back then anymore.” I was very touched by that and it occurred that he is either somewhat shy or perhaps made the connection after my hello. Either way it made me happy and I remarked that if they gave me a guest list next time I could provide him with an entire busload of New York old timers.
Cut to two days later. Drew comes home at 4 am, wrecked from one of those horrible fashion week rich kid and model parties that his crew likes to attend. He woke me up and asked, “Did you send a threatening letter to Miss X? She says you did.” Miss X is a socialite who tends to photograph her own legs quite a bit and orbits around his band on occasion.
I went through my mental rolodex…”Did I…did we…?”
I mean, I never really threaten, per se. There was that pathetic Swedish chick a million years ago that got a little out of hand. I did send her a message through myspace to let her know that I was aware of what she was trying to accomplish…And then there was the hardcore chick who was calling him a little too often, but she and I are friendly and that was an old school communication and we’re tighter for it…And then okay, I have to admit that there was that completely uncalled for and bitchy late night missive that I sent to that spoiled moron who fancies herself the new Anita Pallenberg. I am willing to state that this was a little juvenile on my part and I, on occasion, will make an ass of myself. But, ah…no, I can definitely say that I have never emailed this particular female and can think of no reason that it would be necessary?
Drew eyed me like Larry David. You have to feel for the guy sometimes.
The next day I wondered, feeling disconcerted and a little icky. Did this girl confuse an email from someone else? Is she simply crazy? Did I do something characteristically dumb and completely blank it out? Or is someone out there pretending to be me? That would be creepy. But then I thought, hmm…maybe it’s sort of exciting that someone would find me interesting enough to impersonate? I’ll never know for sure. One thing I do know for sure, life is never dull.
So that is my life as a cover girl. Fashion’s Night Out, Chinese celebrities, some of my favorite rock stars, and past psychotic behavior coming to bite me in the ass. Up next, tomorrow is a D Generation reunion at Irving Plaza, which will be like a class reunion and will undoubtedly provide more blog fodder. In the meantime, here are some photos from Road to Recovery. I stupidly took everyone else’s and forgot to take any of my own:
Richard and Slash:
Zoe and Slash:
Zoe and Richard:
Richard’s photo from soundcheck. Duff, Slash, and Wayne Kramer. I think it’s a cool shot.
And lastly, me and Zoe. The outfit I’m wearing looked way better in person, I’m so upset that it makes me look dumpy here and the bra is showing through, but it’s the only snap of the two of us from the night.