I stumbled upon the above uber-hip party invite in the NYTimes whilst doing some book research today. Immediately I decided that all of our invitations for Dang! Branding Co. (and our winter parties) will follow suit. I mean, according to this article one can only lure the truly chic, i.e., the sculptors with their bedhead hairdos or auteurs with their corduroy suits (Wes Andersonian style of course) or authors with their Clark Kent frames (and Marilyn Monroe gal pals underarm) or pseudo-intellectuals (hello Keith Olbermann?) or athletes sporting gigantic watches or celebs with their miniature dog du jour (Mickey Rourke, you and your stretched taut face know of which I speak) and of course the ubiquitous bevy of buxom twenty-something beauties flitting about our rooftop parties in L.A., if and only if there is a modicum of privacy to such events. I mean, both the NYTimes and the guys at Protocols NYC say so. Are they correct? Is party privacy the newest in must-have party accessories?
Wrong! Completely wrong, people. These folks (the uber-cool mentioned supra), they represent the social elite, who live for the 3AM Girls or the Jordan Reid's (nonsociety.com) or the Gawker's of this world noticing them and their ne'er-do-well pals partying like it's 2009. Twit Pics and real-time blog updates are de rigueur for any party worth its salt.
So, whilst I appreciate such an invitation like the one above, I ask the following: if a really cool party or gathering of dangerously attractive individuals and the truly smart and talented, with just the right combination of music and sweet elixirs on the side, takes place atop The Standard or at our circa 1907 manse in LA., does this party truly exist if you can't tweet it?
What do you think? We brave, we few, we underpaid that work at Dang! Branding Co. know the answer to this burning question. Tweet us (from some terrific party where you're hanging out at with all the swells) and let us know!