I am amazed that I still get invited to the after parties, because despite my best intentions, I am always a mess.
A couple years ago, I was wearing some super high platforms, slipped on some spilt Champagne and crashed on the floor drink in hand. Amazingly, I did not spill one drop of my bubbly, but I fell so hard the whole room stopped to look and Mena Survari said, “Did that girl just fall?” to which my brother replied, “Yes, yes she did.”
Then there was the year that I blacked out and took a taxi back to the hotel WITHOUT my mother. Yep, I left my mom at a club in New York.
There was also the year that my friend took a bunch of really messy pictures of me and tagged me in them on facebook. My bra was hanging out in every single one (not in a fashionable way), including the one of me with Angelo from Top Chef.
It seems that open bar bubbly is just too much for me to handle.
This year, I did pretty well to my current knowledge. I am still waiting for facebook tags to come rolling in. I recall one picture in particular that could be a little compromising. I was bent over talking to someone sitting on a sofa and my friend took a picture of two people posing on either side of my backside. I will take this as a compliment that it looked so good in the dress that it was photo worthy.
The absolute highlight of the night at this particular after party was the cocktail list. It had a drink named after my brother. I get excited for just about everything he does, winning a wildly popular reality television show, appearing on Oprah and continuing to make beautiful clothes, among many other things, but nothing brings a proud sister tear to my eye quite like him being honored by cocktail.
The recipe includes: The Ultimate Vodka, St. Germain Liqueur, fresh grapefruit juice and rosemary. That, my friends, is something to get excited about.
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