FASHION PHILOSOPHY

People Like Them went to New York for the opening of Chanel’s extraordinary Mobile Art gallery, designed by Zaha Hadid. The party was as chic as expected, but for an even heavier glamour hit, it was everyone back to PLT’s favourite hotel of all time, the Carlyle. They were all out that night: Kate Bosworth, wearing couture; Woody Allen, in the restaurant; and French Vogue editor, Carine Roitfeld, in Alaïa stacks. But an even more special treat lay in store the next morning: handsome French philosopher Bernard-Henri

Lévy, a man so private that I’ve wondered if he even exists at all, sitting at breakfast, nibbling croissants! I think we can all agree that tailgating celebrities at parties is one thing. Having brekkie with a legend of contemporary thought, albeit one with a disappointingly bad hair-dye job and — was that? — a slightly gammy eye, is another altogether.

WAGS LIVE ON

I couldn’t resist this one British snippet: the catwalk event to show off the a/w lines of the Liverpool retail mecca Cricket proved the Wag movement is far from over. Resident princesses Coleen Rooney, Alex Curran and Atomic Kitten all turned out for the fashion show and party. “I’ve never seen so many Balenciaga bags in one place,” squealed drag artist Jodie Harsh, who took the final turn on the catwalk to whoops of approval. “They plan their outfits a week ahead. I’ve never seen grooming like it. I honestly think I could live in Liverpool.” Well, if that night’s outfit — a Lanvin dress, towering Louboutins and a huge wig — was anything to go by, I imagine she’d probably fit right in.

PEACHES’ ELECTORAL ROLE

The city is abuzz with who will win Tuesday’s election and, more important, what sort of election-night parties everyone will be throwing. Peaches Geldof, who now calls New York home, will be at the enormous East Village crash pad of 30-year-old scene queen Chrissie Miller, who designs the T-shirt line Sophomore. Miller has persuaded Geldof and her NBF, teen blogger Cory Kennedy, and Mark Ronson’s sister, Charlotte, among others, to take part in a last-minute telethon to convince swing-state voters to put their cross next to Obama’s name. “There’ll be a lot of drinking, a lot of smoking, and we’ll listen to Bob Dylan,” says Miller. And canapés? “We’ll order in. I don’t go in for that dinner thing.” Or perhaps Peaches will cook?

WILD AT HEART

Downtown New Yorkers have something to celebrate, whatever the election result: the return of a convincing underground scene. After a seven-year blip, a series of hidden hangouts are declaring the death of bottle service and a new era of living for the moment, whatever your job prospects. One — a tiny lounge called BEast, beneath Moby’s favourite vegetarian restaurant — has even been holding “goodbye douche- bag” parties. “They are to see off any Gordon Gekko types, who thought that waving a black Amex at the maître d’ was the same as being interesting,” said a lady with a lot of eye make-up who I met propping up the bar. “Now, I gotta go. It’s 2am and I gotta get up in the morning and make things happen. Oh, okay, I’ll have a martini.”

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