This is neither a mannequin nor Yelle
This event (an after party at Lincoln Center for W Hotels’ Global Glam runway show) was the kind of thing you might expect from Fashion Week. Picture a cavernous room swathed in black cloth, with sculptures of neon lights in each of the four corners and gigantic TV screens showing loops of gorgeous models in bright makeup. There were also live models posing (somewhat creepily) as mannequins, and waiters walking around with trays serving fancy drinks. (With real strawberries! The pinnacle of adulthood, clearly.) The people there were either part of the fashion industry (long-legged models and designers wearing very expensive suits) or simply made enough money to buy a ticket to the event. I felt very out of place in my combat boots.
was fantastic—the only way the band’s set could have been better was if frontwoman Julie Budet spent more than 20 minutes onstage. She showed up in a leopard print bodysuit, her hair cut short and slicked straight back (a look very appropriate for the setting). She and GrandMarnier (third band member Tepr was absent) played the single from the trio’s new album, Safari Disco Club
, and several of its most popular tunes, including the absolutely filthy “Je Veux Te Voir.”
Sadly, it wasn’t the kind of show Yelle deserved. The people in the ‘audience’ were either milling about talking to each other, trying to find more alcohol, or watching the TV screens above them. Except for the other five college students who somehow got in and were dancing ridiculously by the stage, no one was paying attention to Yelle at all. This was really a shame, because Budet was basically the most adorable creature in the room, in the oh-my-god-you-are-so-cute-I-want-to-pick-you-up-and-carry-you-around-in-my-pocket-forever sort of way. She jumped up and down, did the robot, and generally did her best to convince people to have a good time.
Fellow band member GrandMarnier continued to DJ after Budet left the stage. He was good, but without the charm of his front woman, the entire event turned into just another night at a dance club. At least I learned something: black lace is still very in, and so are absurdly poufy fur coats. You’re welcome.