It's terribly bad form to mow down one of the VIP guests at a fashion show (or anywhere—except, perhaps, prison), so imagine how mortified we were at Oscar de la Renta on Tuesday when we hurried for our seat and almost plowed into Justin Timberlake as he was bringing it on down to Oscarville. Fortunately, the collision never happened, but it still took us a second to catch our breath and recover from so nearly bringing it on down to Shameletville.
Timberlake entered with a black-clad Ashley Olsen— mercifully, our twin-discerning skills are still intact— and sort of sat with her (there was one woman between them) and looked near her direction but never seemed to actually speak to her. Of course, we consider this irrefutable proof of the random rumor that they are occasionally bringing it on down to Bootyville. Timberlake definitely did bring it on down to Bobletville, though, crossing the runway to greet Anna Wintour (which Barbara Walters later did, also). "Did you go to the semis?" we heard him ask Anna of the U.S. Open. A look seemed to pass between them, perhaps unspoken commiseration about Roger Federer's dramatic loss, before Justin added supportively, "That was some amazing tennis." Damn. As if he weren't bringing it on down to enough places, he had to add Graciousville to the list. The man is busy.
Not everyone was as fortunate as Anna. Suzy Menkes only snagged her front-row seat by the skin of her teeth; Hamish Bowles was about 30 seconds too late to claim his, so he had to take notes while standing; and a woman in front of us had her toe trod on so painfully that she started crying and shaking and had to limp off to compose herself (she made it back; the universe is kind). All the while, in contrast, the legendary Valentino glowed happily from his seat, content to let us all bask in the glory of his tan.
Indeed, Valentino actually nodded and smiled at us, as if remarking an old acquaintance, but we suspect that he simply mistook us for Nicki Minaj— an easy error, as we and La Minaj have identical taste in plush tiger headgear and leopard leotard-style lingerie. Nicki once again had a prime spot next to a decidedly more clothed Anna— "How are you, darling?" Minaj purred as they air-kissed, her satiny bustier gleaming and her buttocks proudly cuddled by thin black nylon— and she caused a massive frenzy on her way out, as fans mobbed her getaway car so thick and fast that it took ten minutes for it to reverse and squeak away from the curb. One committed the cardinal sin of panting, "Hi, Nicki, remember me, we met that one time…" to which Nicki politely replied, "Um, you look familiar," because no matter how awesome the celeb is, odds are only ever a million to one that this will work. Another girl sprinted after Nicki as she dashed for the car, jostled other fans for a photo of Minaj through the open SUV window, and then stopped beside us and said, "Okay, who was that?" We told her. She blinked. "And who is she?" We told her. She blinked. "And what has she done?" We politely suggested she bring it on down to Internetville for the answer. Because, if you're going to come close to causing someone personal injury, you should at least be able to quote their greatest hits, right, Justin?