Style PS - Times Online - WBLG

Did Kate Moss's no-show at last night's Chanel spectacular have anything to do with Irina Lazareanu?

Fans disappointed by the non-appearance of Kate Moss at recent Babyshambles' gigs might have enjoyed last night's performance of Pete Doherty's reported new fiance, model Irina Lazareanu, instead. Lazareanu, who was supposedly "discovered" by Moss and modelled the first Kate Moss for Top Shop collection at Moss's request, unveiled her voice to a very fancy fashion crowd at Chanel's Paris/Londres fashion show. Jefferson Hack, Daphne Guinness, Natalie Imbruglia, stylists, editors, designers, and a giant gang of young blonde London socialites (almost universally clad in black) watched the 25 year old Canadian saunter onto the stage in a long silk Chanel dress and clumpy boots, and nervously take the mike. Models who want to be singers can be a worry, but by the third song, and accompanied by her musical collaborator, Sean Lennon, Lazareanu seemed to have won the audience fair and square. Her and a parade of models, including Devon Aoki and Daisy Lowe, who wandered the room wearing exquisite clothes from Lagerfeld's annual Métiers d'Art collection, created specifically to showcase the skills of Chanel's Parisian ateliers. This was a fashion moment, that's for sure. Karl Lagerfeld's patronage will give Lazareanu and Lennon a career boost. But Moss: where was she?    

Agyness IS the new Kate Moss. Or Lady Di. Or something

You should have seen the scuffle outside Koko in Camden last night when Agyness Deyn, newly annointed supermodel and queen of quirk, arrived to host a party to launch the new Burberry fragrance. "Agyness! Agyness!" shouted the assembled paparazzi frenziedly as the gorgeous alabaster twentysomething gave them a twirl. Did I notice a Burberry rep wipe away a tear - or smother a gleeful smile?

Bummed? Noooo. Style gets on the blower to Shaun Ryder

Brring brring! By lucky chance, Style has grizzly old 24 hour party person Shaun Ryder of the Happy Mondays, on the line. Mr Ryder, who has a new album out, and whose seminal albums Pills, Thrills and Bellyaches, and Bummed are re-released as collector's editions* this week, is sitting out his post-1990s comedown in the Peak District. The conversation goes thus:

Hello Shaun, how you are doing? I'm doing well mate. I'm watching Danny Boyle's Sunshine with a cup of tea.

Are you proud of your new album? It's pretty good, yeah. But I'm not going to talk about it. I don't sell cars, I only make 'em.

And you've got two of your best re-released this week. What do you think of them these days? I listened to "Bummed..." only the other week. I hadn't heard it since '88. I thought it sounded alright. I couldn't believe what I was writing about then though. I think about exactly the same stuff but I wouldn't write about it now.

Everyone's on about nu rave these days. Could old rave happen now? Well it was all about youth and ecstasy and they're still around so ... yeah. 

You're 45. Do you feel old yet? I still feel young. I'm trying to grow up! Something in my genes won't let me. It's all in the mind, it's how you feel. My old bloke is 65 but he acts like a child, and Bez still thinks he's 19 even when we say, you old bastard, you look 90!

What's the most middle-aged thing you ever do then? I watch the news all the time. And snooker.

What do you think about hard partying stars like Amy Winehouse getting such a hard time from the press? It's terrible! It's outrageous! They get called junkies, not musicians. There's nothing going on with musicians now that hasn't been happening since musicians played in Sherwood Forest, know what I mean?

I take it you aren't a rehab fan ... It's big business, in't it? And it's all a load of bollocks. There are some tricks you can learn but if you're going to kick all that shit, you just do it, don't yer?

Thanks Shaun. It's been fine talking to you.

* Ryder knew nothing of the re-releases until the record company who own the original recordings mentioned it in passing a few weeks back. You suspect Ryder won't be seeing much of the treasure.   

(Picture via Shirlaine)

How to get tickets to the sell-out production of Punchdrunk

"The Masque of the Red Death is now sold out completely" is what you'll get if you try and buy tickets for the pioneering theatre company Punchdrunk's latest foray into theatrical reinvention and the dusty corners of your mind. But don't worry - so that you can remain afloat in dinner party conversations, there is also Red Death Lates also at the Battersea Arts Centre - the Edgar Allen Poe play's "grand finale" (i.e. a cabaret/club night with all of the Punchdrunk players let loose and on the sherry). Red Death Lates marks the transition of theatre into nightclub - it's a moment! And what to expect when you mix alcohol with naughty actors on the prowl and dress-up (yes, slap on a tache, some latex gloves, a mask, of course; there's also a gore make-up artist on hand to ply you with bullet wounds and seeping cysts)? Well, at the very least, a major departure from your average night out. It's as Punchdrunk quotes Oedipus: "These things are mysteries, not to be explained. But you will understand when you get there alone." Niche night clubbing  - so very now. Tickets £15, Fridays and Saturdays, 9pm -1am till Jan 11th from Battersea Arts Centre (020 7223 2223).

Bella Freud's microparty

Don't be fooled by a modest invitation in an unassuming address (read: boxrom), for lurking beyond the threshold you're sure to find room only for the host's inner circle, comprising what Style has identified as the microparty. And so to Bella Freud's Journey to the End of the Night, a collaboration with the model/photographer Elle Muliarchyk (who made her name as the "guerrilla model", photographing herself in changing rooms).

How to show a full exhibition in a room that measures roughly 4ft by 8 ft? Whack on a couple of slide shows. How to accommodate all of Bella's close friends (Pam Hogg, pictured; Bianca Jagger, Dinos Chapman, Katie Grand, Charlotte Tilbury, Lady Gabriella Windsor)? Appropriate the pavement, then smirting and huddling in the cloudless evening comes as a matter of course. How to eavesdrop on the stars? Just do as you are... "It's like New York," said Bianca Jagger, referring to all the shivering guests (remember that euphemism next time you're partying in cold nights).

Hello Dinos          Hello Katie           Hello Bianca

And what better way to encourage sales of Bella's cult "Ginsberg is God" sweaters (that her two assistants were flogging on the night with a cardboard box for a sales desk), by encouraging a plummet in guests' body temperature?

A Hedonist's Guide to Life launch party

To launch A Hedonist's Guide to Life - an anthology of 75 essays on how to have the most fun ever, written by, among others, Sir Clement Freud, Moby, Miranda Sawyer and Oscar Humphries, plus a bunch of Style's star writers - hot London club Maya opened its doors last night, poured the champagne and cranked up the volume. Jodie Harsh, Queens of Noize and David Piper DJed to a very merry crowd, the bar (supplied by Pussy Cocktails - yes, cue lots of gags about drinking pussy) was drunk dry, phone numbers were swapped, and Kelly Osbourne and Patrick Wolf even crashed in on the action. Mischief was high on the agenda - the Wolf even tried to pinch editor Fleur Britten's hat, an admittedly rather covetable black felted wool cap by Aitor Throup - she had to chase him through the dance floor to retrieve it as he left wearing it atop his red mop. And as the stars spilled out of Maya, the paps took chase, and were not disappointed - see what happened next here: a perfectly hedonistic bit of girl-on-queen action.

The People That Make the Scene Happen, Part One: Twee, front-of-house girl at the Hospital in Covent Garden

This is Twee Lam, the night receptionist at the Hospital private member's club in London's Covent Garden. 26 year old Manc-born Twee is also a singer-songwriter who has played at a number of clubs all over town. She's got rather fabulous style, we think you'll agree (vintage darling, all vintage - Twee is a special fan of Covent Garden's Pop and Rokit vintage shops) and more to the point, has met, in her nearly two years at the Hospital, like, everyone. We're talking Helena Christensen, Hugh Grant and Jemima Khan (in happier days), Sienna Miller and (swoon) Jude Law. Even Tony Blair and Al Gore popped in a few months back to attend a screening of An Inconvenient Truth. It goes without saying that, being the night receptionist, Twee has been witness to all kinds of unsavoury shenanigans but being a sweetie, is reluctant to spill on anyone. "The members are very polite and never talk down to the reception staff," is all she'll say. Not that she'll be in town for much longer. At the end of the year, Twee will follow her dreams to the City of Angels. Here's hoping she's makes it. Good luck Twee!

How do you pull a straight boy at a fashion party? Five essential tips

Despite the fact that there's enough free booze sloshing around to sink the titanic, and more parties happening than your new Jonathan Kelseys can possibly carry you to, Fashion Week is not known as a good stomping ground for a girl on the pull.  But, contrary to popular opinion, it is possible - you've just got to be smart about it.  Follow Style's 5 easy steps...

1. Don't look like a fashion girl.  Boys don't get smocks, they don't get maxis, and they definitely don't get clompy shoes.  Leave the fashion forward outfits at home, hoik up your skirt, and get the boobs out.

2. Lose your mates.  If you want to pull at a fashion party, you have GOT to act as a solo operator. If boys find girl gangs scary, they find fashion-girl gangs even scarier.

3. Head for the smoking area. At the PPQ party smirting opportunities were endless whilst sheltering from the rain outside the pub across the street.

4. When inside, stick to the fringes.  The non fashion boys (ie.the straight ones) always lurk around the edge of the party - they're a bit nervous, see. The moshpit rocking out to hillbilly band Sister at Luella's party in Claridges might have looked like fun - but was strictly for fag hags only.

5. If in doubt, head for the photographers. Always a hotbed of testosterone filled, up-fer-it straightness.  And if you can't find them, go for anyone carrying something heavy (roadies, sparkies, waiters carrying particularly challenging canapes...) They're bound to be a sure bet.

Gareth Pugh deejaying at Camilla Morton's book launch

Oh look. It's British fashion's newest enfant terrible, on the decks at the launch of Camilla Morton's new book, A Girl For All Seasons, at Brown's in South Molten Street. Isn't his self-designed red Swarovski crystal wife beater just to die for? Parties in fashion boutiques can be a little dry. Pugh discoed this one up with a medley of mid-Eighties favourites, flavoured with early house, on a bed of classic pop. Here are his top five, in no particular order:

Kylie's Better the Devil You Know

Pet Shop Boys' In The Night (it's the theme from the Clothes Show! He used it to close this week's show)

Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas

Amii Stewart's Knock on Wood

Gala's Free from Desire