Last night, I went to a fashion show/party for a line designed by my friend John Renaud. I realize it’s generally frowned upon to write about one’s friend’s projects in a critical capacity, so I’m not even going to pretend to give an unbiased review of it. This post is about my first-person experience of the event. That said, it was pretty great.

I arrived at Redbull Space still a bit weary from attending/covering Fashion’s Night Out the night before. Considering the place’s name, I figured there’d be plenty of caffeine on the offering once I got there. I donned the captain’s hat I wear to signify it’s party time and subway-ed over.

I arrived to find my name had miraculously disappeared from the list, despite having received multiple confirmations I’d be on it. This was maybe the third time in a row this has happened to me, which makes me wonder: do the list people cull names as a matter of practice after the event’s organizers hand it off? I’m not trying to be snarky, I’m sincerely curious. Or maybe I pissed off a list lady at some point in time and she told all her list lady friends? If so: I’m sorry! I was probably very drunk! You have succeeded in making me feel bad about myself. I promise to be more docile from now on.

The show was being co-hosted by DJ/performer/scenester Roxy Cottontail, who was also launching her amazingly named “Hey Girl Hey” party-throwing business that night. Before the show started, Roxy got on the mic and made sure we were sufficiently excited for the unveiling of Thrills. A collaboration between Mr. Renaud and singer/dancer/jazzerciser Cherie Lily, the line was billed as “cutting edge athletic apparel that goes beyond the gym.” It certainly was snazzy!

One thing I’d been wondering was whether I’d actually be able to wear any of the stuff in the line. John is best known so far for designing costumes for flamboyant personalities like Peaches, and while I find them indisputably rad, they’re not anything I’d ever attempt to pull off myself. Happily, John thought about this when designing Thrills, and it’s much more wearable than I expected it to be. I totally covet Cherie’s sweatshirt in the photo up top, and perhaps a fun, neon leotard would inspire me to stop being a non-exerciser and sign up for an aerobics class or something. (Apologies for not having more pictures of the line; I am a terrible iPhone photographer. Getty has a few more.)

After the fashion show came the performances. Clad in an outfit that made it look like monster hands were gripping her boobs and vaginal area, “the most famous tranny in the world” Amanda Lepore performed a couple of original songs in that sexy purr of hers. She was wonderful!

Next, Roxy Cottontail did that “bounce little kitty” song of hers that is so catchy and double entendre-filled, and Cazwell did some rapping. By this point, the place was pretty crowded and a bunch of people were taking John and Cherie’s photos. Not to get too sentimental on you, but I’ve known John since he was but a wee Pratt freshman, and it’s cool to see his talents getting recognized by someone other than his friends, who would love him even if he was a shitty designer. Luckily for all the people who are going to wear his clothes, he is not.