Revenge of the Nerds

imageMen’s style is embracing its inner nerd this season. Don’t believe me? Just look at Sean Avery and Justin Timberlake for starters. Both have been spotted sporting thick-rimmed, Clark Kent-ish glasses recently (the former wore a pair to a birthday party Daphne Guiness threw for Steven Klein at the Standard hotel earlier this week, while the latter sported an identical set to the Costume Gala at the Met last night).

Adding fuel to the trend is a particularly fantastic, recently launched fashion website: Nerd Boyfriend. The bare-boned site breaks down the style of menswear icons into clothes for purchase. Think Orson Welles circa Citizen Kane in an all-white suit showcased with a link to Topman’s white cotton skinny suit. Or a photo of Pele and his teammates from the football star’s heyday, which comes with tips on where to buy the likeness of the legend’s brown felt Trilbey hat and leather gloves. In other words, according to Nerd Boyfriend’s bio, the site is a prime porthole for finding sartorial inspiration if you’re a “fashionably nerdy male.”

Sean to Open The Avery Inn

Sean Avery continues to prepare for the sooner-than-later end to his notorious NHL career by joining New York’s burgeoning ranks of famous people who open bars and restaurants. The Observer reports that the former Vogue intern is joining forces with Beatrice Inn co-owner Matt Abramcyk to open a “sports bar meets country club” in Tribeca. Warren 77–named after its address of 77 Warren St.–, will be an intimate affair with “six tables seating up to 36 in the restaurant area, and five tables seating up to 14 in the bar.” Meh. We’d rather go to Dutch Kills.

Sean Avery Takes His Best Shot

Sean Avery seems adamant on convincing the world that his much-discussed, oft-maligned internship at Vogue magazine is more than just a lark—a desperate ploy for attention by a man infamous for seeking it—or just a flat-out attempt to meet girls (because sexy, rich hockey players have had so much trouble in the past, right?).

As this week’s guest-editor of, Avery takes us on a whirlwind tour of his arduous new life as an intern at a fashion mag. In between picking the spinach out of Anna Wintour’s teeth and spilling Beef Stroganoff on “the best-looking and best-dressed women in New York,” Avery spends his days flying back and forth between New York and L.A., lending his own personal stamp on a variety of high-profile photo shoots. “Try to spot the leopard-print Alexander McQueen vest that pulled the outfit together,” he brags, as he is sometimes known to do.

Avery eagerly wants to persuade us that his passion for fashion is in fact genuine, a fact that no one seems to be doubting. He truly marvels at the intricacies of a fashion magazine and holds in high regard those who bring the fashion bible to life. It’s his inflated opinion of himself and his own destiny that renders his piece at times condescending and self-indulgent. “Here’s what it comes down to,” he writes. “I make millions of dollars a year at a “job” that I consider to be pure fun. The people at Vogue don’t have that kind of salary. What they do have is a group of people working creatively and relentlessly because of their strong passion and love for fashion. I would challenge you to find another workplace — outside of sports or nursing — that has that.” Ahem. His mother must have been a nurse.


At one point, when trying to establish a link between his love for fabrics and his desire to break teeth, Avery assumes the role of Carrie Bradshaw and asks “Was a young woman’s anticipation of a night on the town in her favorite new dress just a different version of a 12-year-old boy watching his favorite player No.16 dominate New Jersey in five games? The world may never know.” Sean you are right. We may never know. But as you continue your magical journey through those labyrinthine halls of the Conde Naste building, and the answer slowly dawns on you, please let us all know. In the meantime we will continue to watch your every move, our collective breath firmly baited.

Bvlgari and R&R Celebrate Summer!

Reader, If I could impart one piece of nightlife advice it would be the following. Don’t start off a night with a terrible hangover when the BVLGARI Diagono Watch Collection, and Rock & Republic “Summer at The Beatrice Inn” are on the itinerary. Furthermore, it’s best not to attend an event celebrating anything having more than two consecutive consonants in its name with said terrible hangover, espcially if it’s being held at Frank Gehry’s sleek IAC Building. The elegance of it all will make you feel like the tuna tar-tar being passed around. Instead, don your best Proenza Schouler with the prior knowledge that you’ll be bumping into beautiful people like Sean Avery, Simon Spurr, and New York Jets center Nick Mangold, and that later at the Beatrice, you’ll be dancing with Kirsten Dunst, Sia, Emma Snowdon-Jones and May Anderson. A cautionary tale.

The striking IAC building is certainly a thing of beauty—the inside is stylish with minimal adornments, aside from the dazzling Diagono watches gleaming from their display cases. A gathering of gorgeous people examines the watches and projections on the large, bare walls. I take several peach and mango martinis from a beautiful waiter, knowing that imbibing should instantly make being surrounded by this grotesque amount of sophistication feel more tolerable. It works. Soon enough I’m blowing air kisses, shaking hands with the best of them, bothering Anna Wintour’s new intern/Rangers star Sean Avery, and listening to people test out fake British accents. Simon Spurr is considerate of the hangover: “I don’t understand how some people can just get up after a long night, hit the gym and feel normal,” the twenty-something designer says. The peach mango martinis work so well, I end up staying longer than expected. I try on a few of the lustrously crafted watches, and enjoy the cool summer night on the substantial back patio.

We arrive at the Beatrice much later than intended. But Rock & Republic’s “Summer at The Beatrice Inn” has been mercifully extended for the entire evening. Already enveloped in a martini haze, we dash to the all-too familiar bar, and are reunited with the Inn’s usual suspects. I recognize Sia, the dog-loving musician whose CD, Some People Have Real Problems, I’ve had on repeat on the office surround-sound these past few weeks. I say hello to the sprite songstress, and tell her I love her dog. She looks at me quizzically, and I relent to explain myself.

image James Murphy image Julia Restoin Roitfeld with friend and President of Rock & Republic Andrea Bernholtz.

I rejoin my friends as standard Beatrice whispers ensue, “Did you see Kirsten Dunst is here?” my friend B says excitedly. I look over to see the lovely ingénue dressed in a white tank and hat, waiting patiently in line for the bathroom. I walk past her, not having a good enough opener prepared, and find Andrea Bernholtz, President of Rock & Republic. I decide to do a bit of investigative journalism on the new Rock & Republic cosmetics line they are celebrating. “It’s very sexy, dramatic and provocative. But overall, we just wanted an excuse to throw an amazing party.” With LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy on the tables, Andre Balazs, Lazaro Hernandez of Proenza Schouler, Kelly Bensimon, and Julia Restoin Roitfeld, present and accounted for, and an open bar that stretched until closing time, I’d say she was successful in her excuse.

Later, we finish off our drinks on the dance floor, and at one point initiate some kind of invisible jump rope contest. It’s one of the telling reasons my first hangover never quite healed itself, and I’m faced with another, doubly worse. There will be no BVLGARI/Beatrice parties for me tonight.

image May Anderson image Revelers at the Beatrice