Fashion Disasters Averted!

But only because the Golden Globes were crippled by the strike

As it happens, Redstone is having a book party at Henri Bendel, so I join a gaggle of her friends, many of whom are swathed in furs, sport Balenciaga bags, and clearly don't need the hints about combing the racks at Wal-Mart and Target that Redstone cheerfully supplies. The author, who has scads of blond hair, violet eye shadow, and is beaming as brightly as her yellow-chiffon Catherine Malandrino dress, seems genuinely touched—stunned, even—that I've read her book.

When I tell her that I am appalled that four of the fashion professionals polled in her book are enthusiastic about women sporting bare legs in winter (crazy me, I wear woolly tights when it's cold) and what a bunch of ninnies they must be, she says, "My legs are bare too!" and indeed they are, tucked into a nice pair of heels.

"They're by Guess," she says. "Don't you think they look like they cost more than 99 bucks? Because I kind of wanted these shoes I saw at Bloomingdale's—Christian Louboutin, for $1,075. They were purple and trimmed with Swarovksi crystals. I believe in being authentic—I saved $900 on shoes! I don't wear thousand-dollar shoes. I'm not a movie star or a socialite."

I'm nodding vigorously in agreement when Redstone's friend Syl Tang, the CEO of a business called HipGuide, chimes in dryly: "You didn't get them because they didn't fit. If they fit, you would have bought them in a minute!" Well, maybe Bloch or Verdi could get her a discount?

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