The day they call "Super Tuesday" was extra super because not only was it Mardi Gras, it was also a good night for Fashion Week parties, which totally made up for my crappy experience the previous evening. The women's streetwear line Married to the MOB and French boutique Colette teamed up with fashion mag Jalouse to throw a fete at Beatrice Inn, a low-ceilinged hot spot (ugh, that term is gross, but true, in this instance) co-owned by Paul Sevigny, Chloë's brother. Nikola Tamindzic and I went to check it out. Check out the gallery below, and after the jump, a sort of unbelievable Steve Aoki anecdote.

OK, so the party was super fun and the crowd was totally feeling some T.I. "What You Know?" The Beatrice Inn is typically a celeb-heavy environment — apparently, it's Mary-Kate Olsen's jam — but last night, it was a little more intimate than that, and was mainly comprised of friends of the MOB crew. There were a few celebs on hand, however, like these two super skinny models whose names I don't know (and didn't feel like looking up), the dude from Blonde Redhead, and Steve Aoki, if you think he counts. But at least one girl thinks he counts.


I left the party to make my way to another party across town, and looked around for Nikola; I found him outside talking to a girl who was crying pretty hard. Nikola turned to me and said, "She's in love with Steve Aoki." Initially I was like, "Christ, did he not call her back after he fucked her or something?" But then she explained to us that she never even met him before. She came into the city from (I believe) Long Island, is "in love" with Steve, and heard he was gonna be at the party. (Nikola spotted him inside, but I must've missed him.) She was devastated that the doorman wouldn't let her in. Either she left her ID at home, or she wasn't 21 yet...something like that, I don't know. Anyway, she was acting like her life was over.

I was like, "Girl, I thought you were crying 'cause you were pregnant with his baby or something. He is nothing to cry over, trust."

She looked at me in awe, with tears streaming down her face and was like, "You know him. Like in real life?"


"Yeah, so don't cry about it. For real." Then I hailed a cab for myself and Nikola. We had this running thing all night about trying to gross each other out with stories. Hearing about Steve reminded me of probably one of the grossest stories ever, which I of course had to tell Nikola, and don't mind sharing with you right now.

One time I fucked this guy and the condom got stuck up inside me and I didn't know. Then the next night I fucked this other guy, still unaware of that lost condom already there. Two days later, I felt a strange sensation as if there was chewing gum between my legs, and finally the condom tumbled out of me in the bathroom of my old job. I was freaked out but got over it. Anyway, onto Steve.

We'd banged like a month or two before and he was back in town (like over three years ago), so he stayed over. We had some sex in the pitch-black dark in my bedroom and I squirted a bit, so I knew my sheets would be a little messy. The next morning when we woke up, it looked like a murder scene. I didn't have my period, but there was brownish blood that came out from whatever trauma was caused by that lost condom. Steve was totally freaked out and uncomfortable and said that he had to scrub really hard to clean up all the dried blood caked on his cuticles and under his nails. I was like, "Whatever."

The best though was that there was a perfect bloody imprint of his hand on my ass cheek, as well as my bedroom wall. The one on my bedroom wall stayed there for kind of a long time because I'm way lazy.