In the annals of things I never imagined happening to myself, there I was at the Carlyle, staring at a bacon-wrapped something-or-other and calculating whether or not my regret over having eaten it would be sufficiently dwarfed by its potential deliciousness, when I saw this very fresh-looking pair of gray-with-burgundy-accents Nikes and thought, Those are so Studio 54, then slowly realized they were neatly laced onto the feet of … Mick Jagger. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised, as I was at the fragrance launch of his longtime love, designer L’Wren Scott. But I was surprised, and I think you would have been too.
Later, as we ate beet carpaccio and drank champagne at a long, many-candelabra-ed table, L’Wren herself spritzed the (gorgeous!) perfume—peppery, patchouli-y, dry and sexy—wearing a glitter-spangled deep red dress that matched the bottle. When she got to the end of the table, there was Martin Short, with Lorne Michaels. “Hello, Mr. Short!” she cried. “I’m Miss Tall!”