CFW weekend: rain and fashion and wine, oh my!

There was so much to talk about in Charleston this weekend!  Hopefully you kept up with me on Twitter as I posted photos and observations from the finale night of Charleston Fashion Week.  Mr. M ended up tagging along with me to the Holy City, which made the trip extra nice, especially since we had to stay on the Ashley River instead of downtown this time around, which meant driving a car, which is something that I try to get out of whenever possible.  One of the many roles my dear husband often plays for me is that of chauffeur.  He does it gladly... I'm not the best driver in the world.

Anyhow, I was apparently in the minority of attendees who looked at the weather report before heading to the tents on Saturday evening and saw the big red, orange, and green blob headed for the city on the weather map.  I donned the cute and comfortable dress I had chosen and then proceeded to make the rest of my outfit weather-appropriate.  The result: I was one of two people who were dressed appropriately.

The line to get into the tents crossed the length of Marion Square and was a silken bouquet of pretty cocktail dresses... and nary an umbrella in sight.  When PR extraordinaire Jackie of Leapfrog shoved me into the tents as the sky opened up, I looked over my shoulder to see a herd that made the videos of Black Friday at Walmart look positively civil.  Once again, I thanked God for VIP seating because it looked as if some punches were about to be thrown over getting into the dry tent and to the available seats.  A black eye may have matched my outfit, but it still wouldn't have been attractive or pleasant.

Once I was comfortably in my seat I immediately scanned the room looking for Mr. Wayne Newton.  I know that he had been in the tents the previous two nights and was rumored to have been assigned the seat across from me.  I'm not generally a celebrity stalker. When I was a child James Brown was a pall bearer at my godfather's funeral, and crazed fans were jumping into the aisles trying to shake his hand and touch him.  Ever since I've had a general distaste celebrity ogling.  However, I tend to find Mr. Wayne's makeup job to be a fascinating study when I see him on television, and I was curious to see it in person.  Unfortunately, he didn't show, but I sat across from some very friendly folks such as Cynthia Rowley, Charleston Magazine style editor (and creator of CFW) Ayoka Lucas, and Project Runway's Mychael Knight.  And Mychael Knight's publicist, who felt it necessary to dress up like an R&B artist.  He kind of stuck out like a sore thumb.  I wish I had gotten a picture of him for kicks and giggles.

It was the night of the Emerging Designer Competition finalist shows.  Alena Fursova's clothing was smokily sultry (and revealing).  She even did a model stomp onto the runway, and could have easily passed (actually surpassed) as one of the gorgeous models.  Lindsay Carter's black palette popped with neon yellows and grapey purples that had a punk edge.  The competition's winner was Marysia, whose brightly colored swim line put a smile on all faces with it's pretty hues and vintage touch.  Keep an eye on this one.  You'll be seeing her clothing all over South Beach before long.

I left the tents to head to one of my favorite haunts, 39 Rue de Jean, to meet Mr. M. and some friends including Anne Postic (aka "The Shop Tart") and Christina and Susan from Van Jean.  Mr. M told us of his encounter with a young reveler who had apparently just had his 21st birthday.  Apparently the  young man had sauntered up to the bar with a pretty young thing on his arm and engaged in the following exchange: 

Young Man: I'll have a Reisling and a Sav.

Mr. M.: <<>>>

Bartender: A what?

Young Man: You know, a Reisling and a Sav or something.

PYT: (to Young Man) Um, that's a sauvignon blanc.

Bartender: Let me see  your ID, kid.

He passed the test and proceeded to get very drunk throughout the evening.  By the time we left the establishment he appeared to be going back and forth to the bathroom to get sick.  If you've ever been to 39 Rue de Jean, you know that it's a pretty sophisticated French-style place where the staff know their wines well and you can get a French meal (or sushi, too) that will leave all four senses relaxed and satisfied.  So obviously, this kid was making a general ass of himself all night.

The next day we drove downtown and parked on a side street to take Junior for a stroll and grab some lunch at Caviar and Bananas.  When we headed to our car, we saw a sluggish looking guy shuffling toward us on the street.  As we came closer, he blushed and murmured hello before going into the house we had parked in front of.  It was none other than our good buddy Sav!  I thought it was a perfect way to end a fun weekend.