If designer Olivier Theyskens died tomorrow, he’d be remembered for these shoes…

Designer Olivier Theyskens, that romantic looking fellow with sleek dark locks and brooding brown eyes, has been seen lolling about Paris. He’s unemployed, supposedly fired from Nina Ricci after showing his last goth collection (Fall ’09), replete with Elvira collars and fitted noir.

Since I like the guy, secretly crushing on him as one would fantasize about a musketeer, I began doing an informal survey of who actually dared to wear his sky high platforms, seen above and below. Our good witch version of Cruella, Daphne Guinness, wears them a lot, always in black. And Martin Cohn– a muse for designers Frank Tell and threeASFOUR– currently owns a couple pairs in black and red. He wore his black ones out with Tell’s leather leggings to the Half Gallery a couple weeks ago. “They’re so comfortable!” He tells me, balancing back and forth. Jealousy courses through my veins, but Martin reassures me. “There’s still a pair left from Nina Ricci in hot pink!” At almost two thousand a pop, I’d prefer purple.

But what of dear Theyskens popping up in bars on the Left Bank after Ricci found his collections perhaps too subversive? Rumor has it that Chris Burch, the ex husband of Tory Burch — creator of the fugliest shoes on planet earth– will join forces with Theyskens in early 2010 to launch a shoe line. I’d call that the best revenge!  Diva bitch shoes for us all!!

Stomp out mass market soccer mom Tory Burch style with new versions of these!

Merry maker Thomas Lauderdale (the blonde), China Forbes (to right) and band shake up NYC

The queue stood three blocks long outside Town Hall, NYC, last week with people scramming for tickets for cult music sensation, Pink Martini, loved throughout Europe, in arts circles, and in from hometown Portland, Oregon. The band– led by platinum composer pianist Thomas Lauderdale and singer, the saucy China Forbes — and a full orchestra including cellos, harp, trumpet, trombone (and the other night, Paper Magazine co-founder, Kim Hastreiter on triangle) surprised us all.

Forbes emoted sultry Latin beats, samba and French torch songs (many originally composed by Lauderdale); others included a Turkish song, to quote Lauderdale “sung by the great late Eartha Kitt.” The group brought several unexpected guest on stage. Alba Clemente, wife of painter Francesco Clemente, sang a Neopolitan song that she co-wrote. She cha cha’ed on stage with a sultry Fifties’ movie star panache in a fitted blue gown perfectly bobbed hair. Lauderdale told the story of how she insisted on flying to Portland to work on the tune with an entourage that included Eighties’ club king, Joey Arias, and Warhol superstar, Paige Powell—both were in the audience cheering. I was especially excited to see Emilio Delgado– Luis from Sesame Street– strumming Spanish guitar and singing. The Sesame Street website lists him as “the first human addition to the cast.” Rock it, Luis!

Meanwhile Pink Martini has just released a new album called “Splendor in the Grass,” featuring Delgado, legendary Mexican singer Chavela Vargas, NPR’s Ari Shapiro, and Courtney Taylor-Taylor of the Dandy Warhols. It really is like swimming in a neon hued cocktail, deep within a golden age Hollywood dreamscape. For a sample of the romance: For a sample of the romance: NINNANANNA

Pink Martini… aesthetic vintage va va voom

We knew a good thing when we saw it. Georgia May Jagger, just seventeen– possessing perhaps the prettiest pout of the Jerry Hall/Mick Jagger clan and the face of Hudson Jeans– was named “Model of the Year” last night at the British Fashion Awards. Held at London’s Court of Justice, this year proved especially auspicious since it marked twenty-five years of London fashion shows. While Kate Moss was picked by the English public as “fashion ambassador” for London, the majority panel of 500 official judges weighed in to cast Georgia May as top model. Jonathan Rys Meyers gave Georgia the award.

Georgia’s a natural beauty. When a reporter once asked her about her father Mick and makeup, she recalled photos of dear old dad in blue eye shadow. Seeing her in lipstick at age twelve, he asked. “Are you wearing makeup?” She said, “You’re wearing more makeup than I am!” As for the gap in her front teeth, she’s a saucy lass. “Ha! I think it adds character,” she says. So do we, Georgia, and so does all of the UK, darling. CONGRATULATIONS

Cecilia Dean and James Kaliardos of Visionaire kick it up on the dance floor, penthouse roof of the Delano

Visionaire co-founder, the lovely Cecilia Dean, has been surveying art at Art Basel Miami since its inception seven years ago. “It’s definitely the most fun art fair,” she tells me. So it’s no surprise that the Visionaire party on the penthouse roof of the Delano really let loose.  French artist Cyprien Gaillard and his co-patriot composer/artist Koudlam — the VIP deejays– spun a full roster of Eighties tunes from groups like “Talk Talk” and others that played in Euro clubs (No David Guetta here!).

Gaillard –renowned for imposing sketches of high rises into prints of Dutch wilderness scenes, defacing a duck with graffiti then installing it in exhibition rooms in both Berlin and France, and shooting videos of twenty-somethings walking on wastelands as Koudlam sings –got the entire cocktail party on the dance floor by midnight. He shook his fists in the air. He sang along.  Koudlam then graced us with a tune to one of his electronic compositions. The crowd went wild. The night was still young as we headed just downstairs to the makeshift Le Baron club, the vibe of the original imported from Paris. Pure bedlam and a helluva good time.

Lawn art at the Pulse fair

Sometimes when you bite into an apple the crunch that hits the edge on your jaw awakens you. The red skin of the fruit glistens like a jewel and chunks of sweetness slide down your throat. The Pulse Art Fair was the apple of Miami last week. Fresh. Organic. Awakening.  And small enough to navigate and still appreciate in a couple hours, with time to savor jumping onto one of the red hammocks assembled on the lawn at the Ice Palace (this year’s venue) in the Design District of North Miami. Even the naked girls painted Picasso-like on the lawn seemed natural. Pulse, now in its fifth year, really seemed to capture a certain zeitgeist.

Inside a wonder of delights, a candy store of colorful and questioning pieces from 89 galleries throughout the globe, from Miami and New York to Austria, Majorca, Spain, and the Far East. Some that captured the eye included a boom box made of paper material by Kiel Johnson, a neon bookcase by Airan Kang, James Dean posers in black and white by Bruce Davidson, themes on broken glass by Jordi Alcaraz, a painting entitled “Sacred Pools Turkey” by Massimo Vitali of detailed waders that truly pull you into the water, Leo Villareal’s neon orange rectangle, even NYC’s own Jeremy Kost, who assembled an image of a live trannie via polaroids. Chistopher Mir’s “The Dream of You is Real”– with an old man before a rainbow, mountains, and helicopter– hinted at a resurrection theme. The whole thing felt very NOW. Thus, I suppose, properly titled “Pulse.” Outtakes in slide show below.

STILL KICKIN: Calvin Klein at Bruce Weber’s party at the Standard  Miami;**Check out Patti Smith hiding on the right… shhh!

Take some jaded beauty and freak-loving jet setters with enough money and/or time to float and place them within a twenty-block radius in Miami Beach, and you’re bound to uncover secrets, see ghosts. For a certain crowd of  ‘joie de vivre,’ this week’s five day Art Basel Miami Fair proved more of a party your pants off affair augmented by some art browsing on cloudy days. A few folks crawled out from underground…

The irony — the real Calvin Klein– the man who started using kiddy models in tarted-up poses to great effect, popped up to fete photographer Bruce Weber, touting his book of young men in underwear at the Standard Hotel. Rock crooner, poet, and photographer Patti Smith lurked behind trees on the lawn away from the bar, and boys lining up for Bruce’s autograph. Evidence of a true artist should be noted. Often they’re social pariahs like Patti. In hiding of a different kind at Weber’s party, fashion diva socialite, Daphne Guinness, was unrecognizable in dyed black hair (or was it a wig?) and a day dress.

Showman designer, Jeremy Scott, who outfitted Madonna many times for tours and now dresses Lady Gaga, skipped surveying paintings one afternoon to dig through the stash at Douglas Garden Jewish Thrift Store in Hallandale. Who knew Scott got his inspiration for tit enhancing glitter tops and other body kitsch from bubbe?

At Visionaire’s rooftop party at the Delano, Holly Dunlap, designer of the (sadly) now defunct shoe line, Hollywould, cut a rug under the stars as bad boy French painter, Cyprien Gaillard, spun records and flipped his fists in the air…hmm, famed painter behind the turntable. Take trend notes, kids, for 2010. I can sense the wave approaching. And Dunlap is headed for Malawi to live for a spell and start up a home interiors line.

Strange economics spurs creativity and lots of late nights… For the past several days, we watched the sunrise. En route to that hour last night, my friend Tommy Saleh– who orchestrates events at Soho and Tribeca Grand — received a text from the David LaChapelle party at the Raleigh–something about Daphne taking off all her clothes and jumping in the pool with a slew of trannies (waiting for a proof). Demure one day (read about her new look above) and wild the next. Strange days are these…

Photographer Bruce Weber and his brand new book, Friday night at the Standard Hotel, Miami Beach

The Big Pink rocked out last night at Bowery Ballroom in New York City.

It felt like London last night with U.K. accents abound…and all the pretty young things swayed to the rhythms of the charging guitar and thick bass, soothed by the atmospheric vocals of lead singer Robbie Furze. The sounds are still swarming inside my head…or is it that I’m hungover?

Hudson Collection featured in WWD.