Beauty Beyond the Surface
July 18th, 2006 by Daphne
When the Glamourite life calls for coverage of the Surface Magazine party, I shook off my tiredness from the previous bacchanal evening, called my girl friend, Victoria, and we were at hotel QT (a boutique hotel right off Times Square) at 7 p.m. on the dot. We were fashionably on time as experience has taught both of us that if it takes a woman that long to get pretty, then the right man has probably come and gone.
Entering the revolving doors, we were greeted by a lovely blonde in a fashionable black & white print dress who quickly ushered us in the minute I mentioned the name of fellow Glamourite, Jasmine.
Making our way into the bar/lounge area, I was struck by the unique vision the designers of the hotel had. For one, the ceiling was covered with what appeared to me to be pine floorboards. Perhaps they wanted guests to conjure up images of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, twirling upside down overhead. That thought, however, quickly vanished as Victoria and I caught sight of the bar and yet no sign of Jasmine. We made a beeline for the bar, regardless.As we waited for our turn with the bartender, I picked up a copy of the newest issue of Surface Mag, which was strewn all over the bar and on several tables. Though the dimmed lights made it difficult to see or read anything clearly, from what I could make out, it was obvious that this was a magazine that prided itself in meticulous presentation and an elite sense of aesthetics. Beauty beyond the surface [pun intended] is so difficult to find nowadays, especially in magazines, but page after page of Surface Magazine connoted a lifestyle of wealth and luxury. At around seven dollars an issue, I can’t imagine how it could not.
When I realized that we were competing with a number of other parched tongues for the bartender’s attention, I suggested to Victoria that we circulate for a bit. We meandered through a plethora of overly well-dressed, too-fashionably attired women and came upon a set of stone steps that led us into a scene straight out of a Greek bathhouse. OK. So there were no white togas in sight, but there were scantily clad women with drinks in hand, milling around an indoor pool. Too bad the male guests did not follow suit.As if we had a sixth sense to where the nearest alcohol was, we found another set of steps that led to a more intimate seating area. It was there that we found Jasmine, Athena in blue, conveniently situated at the bar. We ordered a round of daiquiris, complimentary of 10 Cane Rum.
Unfortunately, the sole highlight for the rest of the evening was when Jasmine pointed out world renowned fashion designer Yeohlee. She was intently conversing with a female guest and though we wanted to say a brief hello, she disappeared faster than a wrinkle in Hollywood. And for fear of having committed a fashion faux pas of staying at one party for too long, so did we.