My Social calendar is so full that I rarely find time to see anyone or any new shows, but I have to check this fabulous designer out.
We have all heard so much about him. One of my darlings sent me two bags of fab Mcqueen jeans, so I tried out twenty-three this morning then settled on a pair of shorts with a black polar neck and my fabulous knee-high leather boots.
Last night I was partying with fellow socialites at The Grove, and we met the whole of Los Angeles’ fab crowd there.
My head still hurts from all the champagne and caviare so went to bed at 4am.
Liebowitz has pioneered ‘size minus’ for his models, so he has now gone one better than ‘size zero’.
His clothes are so small that they need to be put on with linseed oil, and they require three or four people to put them on the models.
The models are all starved daily and are only allowed two pieces of lettuce, two lines of cocaine/hour and a constant stream of cigarettes.
The Auschwitz look
My good friend Paris Hilton is with me as we are crammed into the Auschwitz Fashion Carriage, unlucky for her Tinkerbell her pet poodle is trampled to death under the feet of all the guests.
“Oh well I’ll phone mama up tomorrow, and she can get me a new one that looks exactly the same.” She then snorts from her silver vial and everything is better.
We arrive at the warehouse and the Fashion Police check to see if we are all wearing the latest designer couture and that all our VIP passes are in order.
Anyone with any individual and unique fashion sense is immediately turned away, with the assembled entourage no one is thus turned away, and we all sigh in relief.
The Fashion Police then use their cattle prods to get us into the warehouse, and we are truly wowed by the fabulous style and decor.
Victoria Beckham who holds Liebowitz in high esteem says she aspires to his wonderful collection for her own burgeoning fashion house.
She is in fact modelling a Liebowitz silver creation for the Holocaust Show today and the crowd whoops with joy as she twirls down the cat walk not flinching once as her stick like ankle bone snaps with a loud crack.
She bravely completes the circuit with her bone jutting out of her leg.
Such bravery in the name of fashion. This is a badge of honour for being a ‘size minus’ model.
The other model I see is a bag of bones her ribs so extended that I can see her heart beating clearly through her emaciated skin. The whole audience dutifully admires her fabulous bone structure.
Nicole Richie is up next and her veins bulge in her legs, and you can see every sinew and muscle working even some of her intestines are visible.
The crowd gasps in adoration as she shows off the Auschwitz chiffon double-breasted gold waistcoat creation.
There is a tense moment as Ms Richie sways with exhaustion after walking 15 feet, but help soon comes quick as the illustrious designer himself picks her up with one hand and shows her the stage exit.
More Wagner plays through the speakers, this time the rousing crescendo of ‘Ride of the Valkyrie’. We are all awed as the final celebrity model comes onto the catwalk modelling the Liebowitz creation that stands above anything else in the show.
The gold tassels shimmer in the spotlight, and we are temporarily blinded by all the photographers snapping away.
Paris who is sitting next to me stands up and claps incessantly with her jaw dropped and her coke fuelled left eyeball jutting out with fashion desire. “I have to get that!” She furiously searches for her Blackberry so that her mother can order one immediately.
The aftershow party is truly splendid. A round of applause cacophonies around the huge hall for our esteemed hero designer as we are ushered into the party bunker resplendent with thick cast iron doors.
In the bunker there are shower heads above us but instead of Zyklon gas we fashionistas are intermittently showered with Chanel No.5.
We have our fill and the Krug ‘Clos du Mesnil’ champagne flows. At $750 per bottle we are truly honoured to be part of the gloriously exclusive celebrations.