My very first fête!

I pinky-swear promise this blog won't turn into a me-me-me fashion show, but since L used a proper camera to take proper photos before and while we were at the Corcoran Museum's Fall Fête on Saturday night, I thought I'd give your weary eyes a break from the heavily pixelated images I usually post and offer you a rare glimpse into the world of what my friends and I look like in full-on focus.

Other than one major eyesore (see final picture) and the curious popularity of blah weekday hair, blah workday pumps and the will-they-never-learn? presence of untoned shoulders and backs in strapless necklines, I had no major complaints about the fashion at this black-tie affair. Sure, there was the unfortunate coincidence that every other woman decided to wear this dress - at last count, L and I identified five of them - but overall, my friends and I agreed most women there fell somewhere between 5-7 out of 10.

We're not yet perfect, but I'm working on it -- remedying the situation one back-slit up to v-town at a time.

Enjoy.

Pre-party at L's condo, the glazed look a result of being in a 'Blackout' trance and my steadfast commitment to never cracking a smile while wearing a designer dress. A heavily discounted designer dress, mind you.

I promise, Burtie, I promise not to tell Monte or your mother about us. We'll keep it on the Atlantic Starr tip, okay? Shhhh...just look at me and "know," you spicy thing. I'm not a label hound by any stretch of the imagination (hush, Mom), but because some of you might ask where my girls' fabu dresses are from, the one on the left (on A) is Miu Miu and the one on the right (on L) is Lanvin. I had just told L earlier that evening how I never met a necklace I liked, but as soon as I set my eyes on A's luxe, crystal-globed beauty, I'm considering giving them a formal chance.
Here L and I are doing our best to rock A's make-your-arms-look-as-thin-as-possible stance. She was militant about pinning that arm back. I sh*t you not, I came thisclose to pulling a muscle, and I'm pretty sure those thumbprint-shaped bruises on my biceps are from her hands-on instruction giving. If not, then...um, next picture.
The final A/J/L permutation. I was peer-pressured into that half-smile, by the way. So not may-jah.Perhaps my favorite picture ever. Here, L caught me snapping a photo of the world's evening's worst footwear: white, patent-leather pooties. Some might say the sick feeling I had in my stomach all day yesterday had something to do with my Fun-Size Butterfinger lunch and eight flutes of Champagne dinner the night before, but I vehemently believe the pain was patent-leather-pootie induced.