Wednesday, June 24, 2009

A Cool Getaway

Tamarama rocks the house at M2. ( Photo by Daralyn Adams.)

SEE LL Cool J in the photo (above)? Sure you don’t. That’s the band Tamarama from the MTV series, “The City.” I’m not going into the genealogy of “The City,” except to say it’s a spinoff of “The Hills.” "The Hills?" Google it.

In any case, if Yours Truly had not been played, that would be a photo of LLCJ instead of a potentially promising band that you likely never heard of or don’t care about because you already have your favorites and are not in the market for new ones. Your I-pod is full ...

Here’s how it happened: I (and one of my peeps) show fashionably late at the nightclub, M2, for the Fashion Delivers second annual Pay It Fashion Forward benefit tonight. LLCJ – husband, father, songwriter, rapper, actor, designer, possessor of a killer six pack – is the host for an evening I never quite wrap my brain around. Great cause, though: (

Tamarama is doing its thing, and few people notice. Many are drinking, chatting, chewing, posing and profiling. I try to pay attention but have You Know Who on the brain. I flip through the complimentary issue of Gotham (the same one – featuring cover girl Jessica Biel – that I paid $7 for a week earlier). Then I start eating the complimentary and copious all natural barbecue-flavored Popchips. Officially bored now. Looking around, I spot a couple of people from IMG Fashion (the machine that stages the various fashion weeks in the States) who seem dazed and confused. Soon enough I look up and see it: the balcony! Himself is there holding court and posing for photos while his bodyguard keeps the swarm at a reasonable distance.

I give the bodyguard to know that I’d like to get a photo of LLCJ. Bodyguard gives me that rapid-fire nod thing his species does that means, "OK, wait a minute." After a few minutes, though, I am not plucked from the swarm for my audience. Instead, the swarm is pushed back and parts like the Red Sea and LLCJ walks through toward the stairs down the stairs, but not to the stage to do his job. He continues over to the other side of the room up more stairs with the swarm on his heels. I lose sight of him. And I lose more time when the security guard doesn’t permit me up the stairs, despite my important business, because I am not wearing the VIP bracelet. After a few minutes and some fast talking, his manager waves me in. I continue my pursuit, weavng around clusters of people, but no LLCJ. I walk around to the other side of the balcony where he was moments ago. Nothing. I return to the area where I’d just been granted access. Still nothing. I express my disappointment to the security guard. He's smirking and looking over my shoulder. I follow his gaze – to the EXIT sign. Me: “You knew he went through that exit, didn’t you?” Security guard: Still smirking, nods.

There’s only one thing to do now: Leave. But before I do, even before I realize my folly, I see a man doing his business in the men’s room. His back is to me, but his mission is clear. He’s assumed the position. I quickly avert my gaze.

Being a Belle, I cannot pursue the matter further. For instance, out of the question is inquiring whether this open access is part of the design or whether a door has inadvertently been left open. Of course, this young suit could be an exhibitionist, but I will never know. Belles aren’t even supposed to share such unmentionables – unless they're actors, dancers or writers. And have a waiver. Which I do.

I missed LLCJ (and the point of the evening), but I did not miss a show.

Fashion Delivers second annual Pay It Fashion Forward benefit was 18 June.

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