I was one of the early discoverers of Atelier (then A Boutique) on Crosby Street when it first opened over six years ago. Since then it’s become my favorite store in New York to shop Carol Christain Poell, Mihara Yasuhiro, Ann Demeulemeester and Rick Owens. So even in the torrential downpour last night I had to turn up and support Karlo Steel and Constantin von Haeften, Jojo and the boys at their new Hudson Street boutique that’s caddy corner to the Ric Owens store. Atelier has earned legions of fans over the years for staying on message and servicing Goth leaning patrons prone to long, drippy silhouettes that come in all black. And this audience was in full effect last night turning up in skinny jeans, oversized or long fitted coats, and boots to nosh on pecorino cheese and appreciate the Joseph Bueys Felt Suit sculpture on the walls. There was a lot of individuality in a sea of sameness, and it was evident that Atelier has developed a tribal following like no other boutique in America.

Yesterday I was getting messages from everywhere alerting me to the Gawker profile on the newfound status of black people this season. More accurately the title of the Gawker piece is This Year’s Most Fashionable Holiday Party Accessories Are Black People. It had crossed my mind that now with a black president, it would require that some circles begin to spice up their social scene with a bit of diversity. It just wouldn’t seem right (not that it ever did) to continue to populate functions with only white faces. That was a private thought but according to Gawker, it’s a strategy in motion and “clients are demanding an increased number of African Americans added to the guest list at their holiday parties.” Gawker says that they got hold of a PR’s top ten wish list of black fashionistas for “Obama-era parties,” to support this claim. Somehow my name made it onto that list at #9, which literally had me in stitches. I thought it was a funny profile because you do sometimes feel like an accessory at some of these events where you’re the only black face in the room, and now someone has called it out.  I don’t take offense to the piece nor do I know the criteria the "PR firm" used for in their selection but I give them credit for their insider research, the names that pop up are fairly interesting. Some are disputing the list and offer their own shortlist, see Parlour Magazine‘s suggestions. 

I went to San Francisco this weekend for International Fashion Party, a private shopping event I helped to curate. The shopping fete is the brainchild of Dorothy Torresi, Ramune Ambrozaitis and Shellie Fry, three plugged-in socialites who aim to bring the spirit of Fashion Week to cities without their own such as San Francisco and Dallas. It was about creating a little slice of Paris or Milan in the Clift Hotel’s Eva Room, the stark white mezzanine area of the Philippe Starck-designed hotel. Runway clips were projected on the walls while local society ladies in their fitted dresses, big hair and big baubles pawed over handpicked bags and jewelry from Pauric Sweeney and Hanut Singh and several other high-end labels. The ladies generally appreciated the selection but not even this echelon is spending, and the event was a near bust. But all was not lost though, it turned into a chatty, boozy affair before the ladies stumbled into the hotel lobby for the after party. Next stop? Dallas, they claim, with cheaper goods, i suggested.

After San Francisco, I was planning a stop in Miami for some sun and to catch the tail end of Art Basel. But with last week being so hectic (which also included a detour to Palo Alto to work on some inauguration looks for a client), I opted to return to New York and tuck in for the weekend before attacking this coming week of Christmas parties, store openings and a high profile birthday event.

It’s only the beginning of the month but if we’re to go by the super discounts at stores, it’s as though Christmas has already arrived. Last week in New York, I went to my usual stops: Bergdorf, Barneys, Stella McCartney, Kirna Zabete and If Boutique and sales were in full effect, with discounts as high as 40%. For those stores I didn’t have time to visits, those sales rep were blowing up my phone line and whispering about private sales for preferred clients with discounts running as high as 60%. Then there were the sample sales: Tim Hamilton, Yigal Azourel, Surface To Air, shopping with huge reductions is the big trend this season. And these discounts are not limited to New York. I arrived in Los Angeles on Sunday to work with a few clients here and I was met with the same situation at my usual haunts: Weathervane, Saks, Prada, et al were all selling at reduced prices. We all know that the economic downturn is responsible for the jittery climate where it’s better to sell (even at reduced margins) than to have no sales at all. One effect of this price-conscious consuming is the greater scrutiny of how much clothing and accessories actually cost. When the dough is rolling in, $1700 four-ply cashmere sweaters is no big whoop, but when you don’t know if you’ll have a job next week, such a price tag only result in sticker shock. Will things go back to “normal” when the economy bounces back? Historically it has, for the moment though, bring on the super discounts.

I’ve been back from Rio for over a week now and I’m still living on the five days of jam-packed energy whipped up at Claro Rio Summer. Put aside the shows for a second and focus on the parties that were served up: everything from an intimate sunset concert by Caetano Veloso to aperitifs at the art-filled home of Andrea Dellal and an all-out blowout at the duplex digs of Nizan Guanaes and Donata Meirelles (the week’s benefactors) to Bibel Gilberto popping up for an impromtu performance at Adriana Degreas’ show.

The mother of all parties however was the samba-rumbling event at The Oteros (yet another mogul’s) perch at the foothills of the Corcovado. That glittering crowd included the priceless photo of Valentino being egged on by Natalia Vodianova and Carlos de Sousa to hit the samba throbbing dancefloor. For my part, I danced to the club-worthy house beats till the wee hours as though it was a night at Soundfactory. This party carried on till 8am, I was told. Speaking of Soundfactory, I had a decidedly gay club night out at The Week. I love The Week’s sprawling indoor/outdoor space in Sao Paolo, stellar DJs and the hotness that are the boys who runaround shirtless all night. Rio holds it down on the boy front as well; I stayed till 7am, unheard of in these rickety years.

It’s the first time since I’ve received my citizenship that I’m eligible to vote and I’m super excited to cast my vote for Obama today. My decision was made a while back and I’ve tried to cut out all the chatter that’s surrounded the election over the last few weeks. These 24 hour news channel sure know how to suck the lifeblood out of an issue. Anyway I hope that the results of today will be historic in American history with the appointment of the first black president. I will be on a plane to Rio when the official result comes out. But I hope that there will be an official announcement on the plane when the ballots are tallied and the new president is named. Happy voting!

If you thought New York had the market cornered on the 24-hour city identity, Moscovites would disagree. They too consider their city to be the one that never sleeps—a fact my hosts repeatedly proved during my stay last week.

In between shows, it was a whirl of dining and partying and though the city is massive, I tasted a good slice of it. I was first taken to Café Pushkin, the legendary and iconic restaurant named for the revered poet with its rustic interior and authentic Russian food. I love the “bag perch” they provide for each diner so your bag doesn’t touch the floor. It seemed a fitting accommodation for the oversized crocodile hobo I normally carry. On the menu the brocht was a must. And seeing the servers zipping around in golden, ornate uniform worn over breezy chemise was one of those visuals you’d only expect to see in Russia. Capping off that night was an opening party sponsored by Russian Fashion Week. It brought out Moscow’s crème de la crème in fashion, celebrities and James Goldstein. I’m used to seeing James in Paris at all the shows, always wearing some super luxe ensemble made of a variety of skins, but we’ve never been introduced. Seeing him in Russia, I thought it was time to get acquainted and get the lowdown on his story. He explained that he owns that  John Lautner-designed modernist house in Los Angeles where so many shoots have taken place over the years, and he’s a private client of many designers including John Galliano and Jean Paul Gaultier. I’m not quite sure how that supports travelling to numerous fashion shows around the world including Copenhagen and Stockholm Fashion Weeks in addition to RFW, which he’s attended for the last five years, but I decided not to pry further.

So many designers from all regions of the globe have told me about Russian stores such as Tsum and Podium buying their collections, and I was itching to see how the products were represented. From the beginning I had my translator and driver trot me around to check out the interiors and the merchandise. And let’s just say I was left agog at the sheer selection and variety in these stores. You can read up on my full retail rundown in a feature that will appear on the site later this week. I had no idea that Russians celebrated Halloween, so when my translator told me that The Most was the place to be on Halloween night, I showed up in my cozy Rick Owens t-shirt and jeans, ready to kick up a leg and get a taste of Moscow’s nightlife. Upon arrival I saw that everyone was in costumes. No matter. The music was gorgeous and I proceeded to dance out some of the kinks and had a glorious night. I’ll confess that my mood was greatly enhanced by trying absinthe for the first time. After seeing it on the menu, I couldn’t resist the taboo aperitif. It was prepared authentically with the fire, the sugar, and just a trickle of melted ice to cool the liquid. It tasted like grappa and the effect was drug-like. I stopped at three “shots.” To drive the point home that Moscow never sleeps, on the way back to the Swissotel, where I was staying, my driver took it upon himself to take me Rai, one of those mega clubs with thumping beats, light shows and every surface covered by streamers or confetti. I jammed out there before heading back to the hotel at 5.30am.

I wanted to check out the vintage clothes on offer in Moscow and was taken to Pak Pak, an out of the way appointment-only basement store, stocked to the gills with show costumes and vintage clothes sourced in London and the US. I played dress up there for a while and spoke to the owner but decided that the prices were a bit high for the products. So after providing a curious side show for the staff and some shoppers we headed to Cara and Co. where Rozalia Kamenev had a small but top-notch selection of vintage. I met Rozalia earlier this year in Sydney and we had a raucous catching up. I fell in love with a patent leather piped Chanel blazer. (More on Cara and Co in my retail rundown.) More dining ensued at Casa Diva, where models and their beefy boyfriends kept streaming in.

I conducted The Death of Trends lecture for Anna Lebsak-Kleimans’s company Fashion Consulting Group, which is closely linked to Russian Fashion Week. It was Anna who introduced me to the organization and was instrumental in my invitation to attend. I had been checking in with her over the course of the week, asking questions and seeking direction as to what not to miss during my stay. I wanted to have a proper sit down with her, however, because I was struck by her astute understanding of global fashion and her expert eye on fashion in her own region after meeting in New York earlier this year. She’s a touchstone for anyone doing fashion business in Russia. She took me to Turandot restauant—just next door to Pushkin and owned by the same restaurant—which has a spectacular interior that resembles a Faberge egg. Anna and I chatted for about three hours on the cultural implications on fashion in Russia, going all the way back to Peter the Great. I was riveted. But my trip was coming to end and I wanted to cap it off with one last nighttime activity. On Sunday, Chinatown is the gay night at Propaganda and it truly lived up to the PR it had gotten for all the hipster gays. I danced till the wee hours and made it my bon voyage to Moscow. Now on my Aeroflot flight and soon to land in New York I’m dreaming of my next trip to Moscow, but first Rio de Janiero where Im heading to tomorrow to attend Summer Rio.

On Monday I slipped out of New York to conduct a seminar about The Death Of Trends at Russian Fashion Week in Moscow to a group of retailers, editors and academics. Public speaking can be nerve-racking, but an epic three-hour lecture and not knowing how proficient the attendees would be in English gave me a bit of agita all last week. After prepping and rehearsing for several days, I conducted the lecture this morning and it went swimmingly—thanks in large part to having a real time translator on hand.

The audience comprised of the small community of fashion marketers who speak the language of trends and are seriously interested the business development of fashion.  In fact, the Russians I’ve met thus far are generally highly intelligent and curious, reminding me of the unexpected saturation of smarts I encountered in both Cuba and India. Now that the speaking gig is over, I can concentrate on the styles coming down the runway. Read up on my daily Russian Fashion Week reports in our Daily Intel.

— Jason Campbell

The Italian Vogue contingency loves black folks. In the last three months alone Jay Z has graced the cover of L’Uomo Vogue, there’s been the much-discussed Italian Vogue Black Issue, and now Sean John is L’Uomo Vogue’s October cover boy. Last night I went to 1Oak for a small gathering to celebrate John appearing on the mag’s annual music issue. It was just the kind of mid-week vernissage I like. There wasn’t a mad crush in the room and I spent an hour or so, chatting up a good friend while greeting the handful of people I knew as they entered. I suspect that either there was tons more activities on last night or it was a purposeful attempt to conduct a low-key event as there wasn’t the kind of high wattage attendance usual for a Sean John affair. Much of the Bad Boy staff was there along with Mark Seliger (who shot the spread), Franca Sozzani (who commissioned it), Zac Posen, and Tracy Morgan.

It’s been an adjustment from summer to fall this year and I must apologize for my spotty dispatches. The season was upon us the day after Labor Day and since then I’ve been in a different city every few days attending fashion shows. I last checked in Milan and by the time I hit Paris, I was fashion-ed out. With every brand under the sun in town that week, Paris is not the place to lose steam so I had to summons the strength and hit the fashion shows, showrooms, and tradeshows. Going out took a backseat however. First, the mood was so strange in Paris with the financial whirlwind dominating conversations and I think everyone felt like I did, that in such uncertain times, you’re better off at home closer to your assets.

I didn’t turn up to all the events I was invited to, I committed to ones where I wanted to show my support and see people I liked. Givenchy then was mandatory, the usual band of Italians were in town to jam out with Ricki {Tisci} at his usual post show fete at Regines. This season Ricki also celebrated the curating of A magazine by showing projected visuals while drunk and ice-throwing Lara Stone, Maria Carla Buscono and sundry other fashion personalities danced into the night. The event wasn’t its usual baccanalia of the fashion jetset but it was extended family.

Speaking of family, the party of the week was held by the Daslu family. Donata Meireles, international director of Daslu, and her husband Nizan Guanaes in conjunction with Carlos De Souza hosted a super exclusive event at the couple’s Quai D’Orsay pied-a-terre to celebrate Daslu’s 50th anniversary and the first Claro Rio, a summer festa in Rio De Janiero next month. It didn’t hurt that attendees were heavy on the attractive and stylish Brazilians, international fashionistas and pleasure seekers but what created the amazing energy of the evening was the dance party atmosphere. And everyone got into the groove including Daslu’s Eliana Tranchesi and Monica Mendes, Elizabeth Saltzman, Hamish Bowles, Michael Roberts, Astrid Munoz, and Giambattista Valli.