Just as Diane von Furstenberg’s after party began winding down on Sunday night at the High Line Headquarters, Naomi Campbell slithered in through the crowd nearly undetected. The supermodel, who put in a surprise runway appearance to close the designer’s show earlier in the day, was quickly ushered to von Furstenberg’s table.
“I’ve known Diane forever. She’s one of the first women I met in New York,” Campbell said after hunkering down. “I was very happy when she asked me to walk for her and close her show.”
“It came with love,” von Furstenberg chimed in. “We love each other.”
Campbell must have felt the love at the show, as the room had erupted in cheers and applause when she emerged on the runway.
“I’m grateful, but I don’t hear it. For me, I still have to show the clothes and show my dress,” she said of the ovation.
“Well,” von Furstenberg shrugged, “she’s used to it!”
Earlier in the evening, the designer had admitted to some exhaustion: “I didn’t sleep at all last night….I couldn’t sleep, so I read Putin’s biography, which made me sleep less.”
Sleepy may be the pervading sentiment shared among fashion folk at this point in the grind, but DVF devotees rallied on, descending upon the breezy veranda off the elevated park.
“Wasn’t it great?” Jessica Alba gushed, in a diaphanous cobalt number from von Furstenberg’s fall collection. “I loved that cork print and the snakeskin print, and the long, flowing dresses. I want it all.”
The leafy terrace, supplemented with flushes of blood red dahlias, pink asters and fuchsia hydrangeas, brimmed with other bold-faced names — Andy Cohen, Lily Donaldson, Chelsea Leyland and Dree Hemingway and Phil Winser among them — most concentrated around von Furstenberg’s enclave.
Across the room, revelers picked from a spread of seared sea scallops, rack of lamb, charred baby carrots and grilled radicchio. Janice Alida polished off her plate. “The blisters are the worst,” the dainty model said when asked about the most taxing part of fashion week. “I never wear heels in my real life, so during this, my feet are like, ‘What are you doing to me?’”