Last week was OTT, a 7+ night party marathon (speaking of marathons, who wants to run the Auckland one with me? At this rate I think I can only manage a half, but I’ll be there).

Toto’s showed the cinema classic “Casablanca” on Tuesday. When the classic lines like “Here’s looking at you kid” came on, the diners erupted with cheers. The Silver Scroll music awards were on the same night, so we caught the end, arriving just in time to hear Helen speak gruffly of her love of music and present an award.  Most people had tuned out by this stage in favour of the open bar. It was great to see the camaraderie between the well-weathered, the freshmen artists, and those for instance like me, who hadn’t picked up an instrument since my failed attempt to become the next Midge Marsden on the harmonica in fourth form. The night curtailed with artists putting their names on a board, like when you’re queuing for a pool table at a busy bar, and ad lib jamming till their fingers seized up or throats required liquid cooling.

But by far the highlight of last week was ANZFW. Seeing I barely “work” these days I had plenty of time to dress-up in my Sunday best, see stunning shows and pillage goodie bags. Overall the entire event was superb. Each tent had more lights than a U2 concert, but you definitely have to be “in the know”, an “A” lister, or rather good at blagging (the route I went for) to get the most out of it; and not get stressed about whether or not the authorities will click that you actually are a nobody, and shouldn’t be drinking fine wine in The Air NZ VIP Luxury Lounge, or in the front row of a headline catwalk collection next to the designer and key sponsor representative.

The clothing designs that I saw were utterly world-class, we have some fantastic talent in NZ, I guess that’s why so many big-wigs from overseas attend. So the fashion was magic but the models, in general, were distracting. Good-looking yes, maybe too much like what I go for, so I spent quite a bit of time admiring the person rather than what they wore.

The excitement prior to the commencement of each show was substantial. None of the shows began on time and you gazed around in vain in the hope of seeing a celeb. I once found myself sitting next to Nicky Watson, but was too stunned to even say “How’s Eric?”. The shows always kicked off with a bang due to the pent-up hype. Occasionally I just watched the crowd, and giggled within, it was like they were watching a fascinating game at Wimbledon.

From someone who has never really been involved with the fashion industry I found the time I was on campus to be lacking something, you had to almost try to have fun. If you’re not a fashion designer/buyer, talent scout, part of a key sponsor corporate or involved with the media, I’d say that if you make one show, that’ll do. Add 1 lap of the displays, drink some champers in The Cutting Room and have a succulent nibble in The Fashion Plate Restaurant and you’re done. I propose free “Walk like a Model” lessons, a ferris-wheel and/or merry-go-round, playstations, mime artists, live electronic NZ artists thumping beats down at the shows etc. Make it more or a party, I’ll gladly lend a hand.

Hey, can anyone confirm that last Friday was “Wear-A-Loud-Shirt-To-Work Day”? Cos’ I felt a real loser all day in my Vanilla Ice styled get-up. Everywhere I went there was pointing and whispering, my lunch dates where so embarrassed to be seen with me they felt it necessary to explain my plight to everyone in ear-shot and walk 3 paces in front.

Another big happening last week was the official opening of The Late Club, situated beneath the new Westin Hotel in The Viaduct. It’s a flash boutique bar with great potential, and I am sure Adam Bennett will make it thrive, but I found it a little impersonal. The entrance and stairway resembles a staff entrance, not something you’d expect for guests in a 5 star hotel, the seating is missing privacy and comfort, and the floor is a cold marble. But the loos are tops and staff second to none.

After a few hours rest I boarded a boat bound for Rangitoto Volcanic Atoll with a few guide-getting friends. The excursion started very well, it felt like we were on holiday, perhaps in Hawaii (not that I’ve ever been). Then the drizzle began, then the rain, then the cats and dogs began to be hurled. We shivered for 40 minutes waiting for the last ferry, mentally cursing the person who mooted the idea for this adventure. The boat arrived and we ran for it, but so did about 200 others. I pity those left behind, poor Angie Wall