A Little of the Old In and Out

In: Stylist Phillip Bloch. Block that kick! Block that kick! File this post under the category of: what-the-fuck, dude?! According to Fashionweekdaily:

"Stylist Phillip Bloch displayed a fashion fabulous hissy-fit at BCBG. When a Daily reporter momentarily left her front-row seat, she mistakenly placed her bag on the seat next to Phillip Bloch's. He stormed in, spotted the misplaced bag, and shouted, 'Get out of my place! I'm f**king sick of this shit!'"

Oh wait, but it gets better:

"(Bloch) snatched the errant bag and kicked it-punt-style-onto the runway"

What the fuck, dude?! What-the-fuuck. We're all stressed out about Fashion Week. Take it easy. No reason to get spastic.

"... The clasp came open and the contents went flying, narrowly missing the feet of a horrified Mandi Norwood. When our reporter returned to find her intimate possessions scattered about, Phillip said to her, 'Sorry about that, but I just cant stand it when someone steals my seat.' And, as if that wasn?t enough of a scene already, Bloch shouted his hellos to editors during the show."

Altogether now, ladies and gentlemen: "Freeeeak!"

Out: Andre Leon Talley. As Gawker recently wrote recently, "Rumor has it that Vogues aptly-named editor-at-large, Andre Leon Talley, has been requesting (gasp!) third row seats at the fashion shows because the front row seating is super-tight." Marilyn Kirschner recently caught up with ALT at the Michael Kors show, seated waay in the boonies:

"... By the way, as I was leaving the venue, I saw none other than Andre Leon Talley sitting NOT front row center, but back row, aisle. I know he has gone on record saying he prefers not to be in the front row sometimes since it calms him, but this gives new meaning to Far from the maddening crowd. Anyway, I asked if he had a good view, and he laughed, 'I had a fine view.'"

In: FishbowlNY. FishbowlNY has gotten into the numbers game recently, and we like it, especially their old but new Spy writing in-the-margins kind of way they'll insert such strange things as "sub indexes," and "ad page numbers." Very innovative use of space, guys.

In their take on the Vanity Fair "Hollywood" (Averted Gaze) issue Christian give us all sorts of numbers. Graydon, by the way, needs to make this distinction -- that The Hollywood issue is not just another VF -- because, we surmise, once every 4 years or so they do a cover on the new President's administration. Otherwise, VF is all about rocking out Hollywood blondes on the cover.



Out: Chaunce Hayden. This skeevy publisher (above) of Steppin Out Magazine (Averted Gaze) "discovered" Brad Pitt's new girlfriend (Eew), according to our our favorite crimefighting gossip duo, Rush and Molloy:

"Brad Pitt may be seeing April Florio, but Howard Stern regular Chaunce Hayden got to her first."

Quick! Administer the penicillin!

" ... Hayden, the publisher of Steppin' Out magazine, discovered her four years ago, and they entered into a relationship, he tells us.

"We had a model-search contest, and I get this E-mail with a picture from a waitress in Sinking Spring, Pa. She was stunningly beautiful. She's skinny on top with wide hips."

Already ... The Corsair is getting majorly skeeved out:

"... She won hands-down from our readers' poll - literally thousands more votes than anyone else."

Can we have actuarial proof of those numbers, Chaunce baby. Somehow the idea of "thousands" -- of even the most unwashed of masses -- participating in any "Chaunce Hayden enterprise" appears to be ... highly implausible.

"'We became very close. She would come to me for fatherly advice. It was like entering the fox's lair. Even I felt guilty, and I have no conscience."

Oh, we already knew that, Chaunce. We just thought you were better at PR than letting the world in on that fact.

In: Anna Wintour. According to our favorite cafe society blog, David Patrick Columbia:

"I read in WWD yesterday that Anna Wintour at the Marc Jacobs Show also a celebrity-mob-journos scene put her dainty little steel-stiletto foot down and let it be known that she had had it with all of this folderol. All this in-yer-face-outta-my-way mob scene holding up the shows while waiting for some tardy Ms. Big to come with her 'minders' (thats what they call them) and bathe in the media madness. You know Anna will make it right. For herself and for the rest of us."

But we do miss the popcorn machines in the tents, DPC. We can never forgive Anna for loathing the scent of innocent All-American popcorn.

Out: The Paris Hilton SNL Skit. (Link via Defamer) Here's the skit that Paris ended up locking herself in her dressing room over. After reading it, I don't think Joey Buttafucco's appearance had ANYTHING to do with the ensuing brouhaha, rather lines like these were the cause:

"lorne: Paris, 20 years from now, 30 years from now, when all this is forgotten, I?d love to have you back to host. As yourself: Paris Hilton, middle-aged woman. But not tonight, with this whiff of scandal in the air. I simply can?t. Do you understand?

"paris: I think so.

"lorne: Thank you.

"(paris gets up to leave)

"lorne (contd) (as she exits): Of course, youre welcome to stay and watch the show. Although I ask that you watch it from the Today Show studio. You understand.

"paris: Yes. (paris is at the door she entered through. lorne points to another door)

"lorne: That door please.

"paris: Sure. (paris exits)"

Jim Downey is a god among tv writers, to be sure (okay, we were kissing ass right there), but a flatulent egotist like Paris Hilton would never play Lorne Michaels' bitch. No way. No how.

In: Back Shaving. This antique little nugget in that significant cultural artifact, The Enquirer, came up again re: the Christian Slater-Ryan Haddon split:

"In August 2003, The ENQUIRER reported exclusively that Slater, Haddon, party girl actress Tara Reid and Ben Affleck went to a Vancouver strip club together.

" ... The party continued later that night at Slater's rented house, where he asked stripper Tammy Morris to shave his back, said a source. The topless dancer was obliging the strange request when his wife walked in, freaked out and started yelling and screaming, said a source."

Whoa... whoa... whoa... stop right there, Ryan Haddon (Getting into a salty Tarantino dialogue). Fucking Christian Slater, and givin' him a back shaving ain't even the same fuckin' thing. Think Pulp Fisction:

"Vincent: Not the same thing, the same ballpark.

"Jules: It ain't no fuckin' ballpark either. Now look, maybe your method of back shaving differs from mine, but touchin' her husbands backair, and stickin' your tongue in her holiest of holies, ain't the same ballpark, it ain't the same league, it ain't even the same fuckin' sport. Back shaving don't mean shit.

"Vincent: Have you ever given a back shaving?

" Jules: Don't be tellin' me about back shavings - I'm the back fucking shaving master.

"Vincent: Given a lot of 'em?

"Jules: Shit yeah. I got my technique down and everything, I don't be tickling or nothin'.

"Vincent: Would you give a guy a back shaving?

"Jules: Fuck you."

Hmm. Maybe Ryan had a point in dumping Christian's ass. Basta!