So many events, so little time, too many scheduling conflicts. It was another chaotic night in New York City yesterday. After waiting until early evening for Sean Kingston to call from Nigeria to give me the skinny about his new album only to be stood up at the final hour, I dashed across town for Beyoncé‘s CD listening session at the Sony Club. Though her dad, Matthew Knowles, presented the tracklisting and other details about the album (out Nov. 18) to the media in Hollywood last week, I was hopeful that Mrs. Carter, who lives in Manhattan, would make an appearance so that I’d have something juicy to write about. No such luck. Once again, papa Knowles did all the talking, explaining that B wouldn’t be able to join us because she was busy doing international press interviews. That’s when I bolted for the exit door.
Next, after meeting up with co-workers for a few rounds of drinks and appetizers, I dropped by the opening of the new Hugo Boss concept store in the ultra chic meatpacking district. With music by Alexandra and Theodora Richards, along with a design installation by architect Matteo Thun, it promised to be the destination event of the night, which it was (guests included Brooke Shields, Mena Suvari, and Maggie Gyllenhaal). Unfortunately, I arrived a tad too fashionably late — by the time my friends and I elbowed our way past the pushy swarm of overly perfumed fashionistas buzzing around the velvet rope, the list-checkers claimed the party was full to capacity. Over it and nauseous from the ’fumes, we didn’t put up a fight. My friends departed for a benefit to raise funds for a gay elephant polo team (no lie!) and I headed home.
By then, it was almost 10 p.m. — too late to make an appearance at the premiere party for the CW’s Stylista, which, frankly, I planned to skip anyway after watching an advance screener of the beyond awful first episode. I had also missed the performance at Universal Motown’s industry showcase for Shontelle, an up-and-coming R&B singer from Barbados who looks and sounds a lot like the old Rihanna. Of course, no sooner than I arrived at my apartment, my BlackBerry started vibrating again. It was an email from the publicist for the Hugo Boss event “Hi. Are you in?” Bless his heart.
Usually, I like to end these posts with a few questions to help generate your feedback to give me a better sense of what does and doesn’t interest you. But today, I’m at a loss. Where do I begin? Are we annoyed that Mrs. Jay-Z was too busy to show up for her listening session? Or does it not even matter because she’s far too fabulous, fierce, and flawless to bother mingling with the proletariat?
PS: Did I forget to mention that I’m kicking myself for making a premature exit from the Beyoncé preview (even though my colleague Leah Greenblatt stayed so that she can review the album for the magazine)? Not only was the rest of my night a total bust, but now I have to wait until the album drops to hear it. Lesson learned: never chase the party.