Party Patrol: Beauty Mix 2
Here’s what the invite said…
Beauty Mix 2
A night of music, beautification, and networking at the newly
redesigned salon CRISTOPHE, Beverly Hills.
…which I knew meant, free drinks, music and gift bags and for a broke-ass blogger, that ain’t nothing to sneeze at.
Cause kids, I’ll be honest, I’m doing my best to live A Socialite’s Life but it’s not like my last name is Holiday Inn Express, if you know what I mean.
So, I headed over to the Christophe Salon on Beverly Dr., with my finest L.A. gay on my arm and decided to peep the party. It started pretty much exactly on time and we got hooked up with our champagne and mimosas (all the more fabulous cause they were free, boo-yah) and just did a good chunk of people-watching.
Am I missing something? Is it cool now to wear a backless dress with a bra, as long as said bra is a crazy 80’s neon color? Cause I saw it more than once at this party. I would show you a picture, only this was my first event for A Socialite’s Life and I was feeling a little sheepish about taking people’s pictures for the sole purpose of trashing them later.
Don’t worry. I’ll get over it.
The evening continues, after the jump.
Also, fake ta-ta’s and strutting did abound. Everyone and their brother thought they were still in the running to becoming America’s Next Top Model. Girl, I ain’t holding your picture in my hands. And for real, one of these days, you know Tyra’s going to be holding a picture of herself in that envelope AND she’s gonna act surprised when she pulls it out.
Back to the party, there were some cute peeps there too. A cute, dark-haired couple and I swear to God, this girl had the best hair in the place, with her shiny jet-black bob. Also, some chicks rocking stillettoes, ho. Way to represent, bitches.
All in all, it was a good night. When I spoke with him, Christophe did guarantee that, “you find a boyfriend or girlfriend by the end of the night,” and that if you didn’t, he frankly didn’t know how he could help you. In all fairness, though, even my gay was having trouble figuring out, which team some of these highly-manicured men were representing.
And with that, this is me, signing off…
Written by Lisa Timmons