Budget Fabulous

Giving Thanks

ME, WITH JORDANIAN SOCIALITE FARAH RIFAI, IN THE CHAMPAGNE LOUNGE AT COUNTRY

A few weeks ago I received a call from fabulous Jordanian socialite and New York party girl, Farah Rifai. You remember Farah, right? She's rich.

"Darling, what are you doing for Thanksgiving? I was invited to a friend's country estate, but when they told me the meal would be served at 3:00 PM, I politely declined. I mean who, other than children and octogenarians, eats at 3:00 in the afternoon?" Farah is a woman who rarely gets up before noon and who never leaves the city unless it's on an airplane (or private helicopter to her beach house in the Hamptons). So the thought of taking a train so she could be in upstate New York, on a holiday, by 3:00 in the afternoon was out of the question.

"So, darling, rather than go to the country for Thanksgiving, why don't we stay in the city and go to Country?" Country is the latest culinary offering from rock star chef Geoffrey Zakarian. Some of you may know his other fabulous restaurant, the aptly-named Town. I emailed my old friend Jay, who is the manager at Country and he sent me the special Thanksgiving Menu and confirmed our reservation for two.

Over drinks in the Champagne lounge, and all through dinner, Farah and I reflected upon all that we have to be thankful for. "Well, I am of course unreasonably blessed with financial security," Farah said over a bottle of Feuillette, "that goes without saying, especially in a world where there is such an imbalance in this area. But beyond that, I'm so very grateful to have good health and friends and family whom I love more than life itself. I also feel very blessed to have met Mr. Picasso before he died. What a thrill that was. But I'd have to say that above all else, I am most thankful for the ability I have to impact people's lives through my various charitable works. That makes my entire life worth living. What about you, Jon? What are you thankful for?"

"Farah, I wake up every single morning and thank my lucky stars that I was born so attractive."

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Free Naomi!

Everybody needs to give poor Naomi Campbell a break. She’s had a hard week. Busted for allegedly braining a servant with a Swarovski crystal-encrusted BlackBerry, Naomi has suffered a series of ensuing public humiliations. First of all, they cuffed her. Can you believe that? We fashion people are upset about that the most: she couldn’t wear bracelets! And you just know those cuffs so didn’t match her outfit. Thank god she’s smart. Before being hauled away from her $3.5 million Park Avenue penthouse, practically in leg irons, Naomi had the good sense to throw on a fabulous white fur poncho, under which she hid her bound wrists.

The embarrassment didn’t stop there. The cops wouldn’t let her ride in her own fabulous limo, so she was forced to ride like a common criminal in a cop car. I’m sure she must have been very uncomfortable. Can you imagine, Naomi sitting on Naugahyde upholstery? As if that wasn't bad enough (I hope you’re sitting down) the police wouldn’t even let Naomi’s people fix her bangs before being escorted onto the mean streets of the Upper East Side. These are humiliations which no human being, no matter how strong, should ever be forced to endure.

Listen, I don’t see what the big deal is anyway. If she did beat her servant, it sounds like the woman deserved it. Supposedly Naomi caught her stealing a pair of $200 Chip and Pepper jeans. So please don’t judge poor Naomi. Aside from being incredibly beautiful (which is enough of an accomplishment for a lifetime), Naomi is at the center of some very important social and charitable work. She’s like best friends with that dude in Africa, Nelson Mandela. We fashion people think that’s just so fabulous. We don’t know why, we just think it is. And you cannot deny all she has done to support Hurricane Katrina. Remember last September when I was hanging out with Naomi and Beyonce, she threw a whole fashion show for those Katrina people. She even flew a displaced family to New York so they could enjoy Fashion Week, wear nice clothes and meet people like Diddy and Gwen Stefani before returning to homelessness. We were all stunned, absolutely floored, by Naomi’s generosity. And now, as if she hadn't already done enough, Naomi’s launched a line of affordable fragrances so poor people can smell good too. Is there no end to Naomi’s contributions to society? Well, there will be if she goes to jail for seven years. So please, write your local congressman and ask them to please please please FREE NAOMI! The world needs her. Besides, she (like me) is 35. Where would her modeling career be in seven years, at age 42? We cannot let this happen.

The Paris Tilton

At one of my recent Learning Annex lectures, entitled Yes, You Can Be Budget Fabulous Too!, I asked the class if they knew what the “Paris Tilton” was. A 50-ish woman in a vintage Pucci-print dress, two sizes too small, was sure it was a type of veined cheese from France. An older gentleman, wearing a rumpled blue suit with a lime-green pocket square, looking like he might smell vaguely of piss and witch hazel, called out, “She’s the sexy little gal who used to play Lucy on Dallas.” A totally hot…I mean, a very presentable young man in the front row, wearing one of those "Von Biatch" t-shirts, who made a big point of running his tongue across his teeth every time I glanced in his direction (obviously a reaction to my incredible physical attractiveness) volunteered that Paris Tilton was a drag queen who flawlessly channeled the blond hotel heiress nightly at Lips, a trannie restaurant in the West Village. All good guesses, all were wrong.

The Paris Tilton is a 99.9% foolproof way of posing for photographers to guarantee the most flattering pictures possible. When you are a famous D-List celebrity such as myself, famous from coast to coast for making an ass of himself on the Tyra Banks Show, you need to develop a strategy for looking your best in the thousands of nightly photographs taken of you by the paparazzi. The Paris Tilton is The Answer. Derived from studying thousands of photographs of our favorite Poor Little Rich Girl, here is your guide to perfecting the proprietary Budget Fabulous Paris Tilton Pose. It’s quite easy actually. All you need to remember is three simple steps. Prepare. Jut. Tilt. It’s that easy. Take a look.

STEP ONE. Prepare. This is your relaxed face; you’re in “neutral” (or if you’re a dancer, first position). At this point do a quick breathing exercise to prepare for the shot. Collect your thoughts, inhaling the good ones and exhaling the bad, so that the final photograph reflects inner calm, self-esteem and (if you’re lucky like me) extreme physical beauty.

STEP TWO. Jut. Shift your skull out and down, in the space directly in front of your face. This jutting action completely obscures any excess tissue below the jaw line (the “champagne chin”) from the camera’s unforgiving eye.

STEP THREE. Tilt. Turn your head and body slightly in the opposite direction of your “good side”. This presents the photographer with a more flattering three-quarter view of your face. And since you’ve rotated against your good side, 75% of your best features are showcased, minimizing your flaws, which lie on the 25% of your face that now lives in shadow.

I’m telling you, it’s brilliant, and it works every time. But you don’t have to take my word for it. Try it yourself. Stand in front of your bathroom mirror and practice. It’s hours of fun that costs nothing. And it’s good exercise, think of it as B-Fabilates. Just remember: Prepare, jut, tilt. Even better, if you have a digital camera, take a picture each time you hit step three. When you master the basic steps, I’ll then take you through some more challenging moves, designed for advanced students who need to extend the look to cover specific situations. You’ll learn the Fashion Fish Pout and the ever-popular One Eyebrow Inquisitive. You’ll even find out how to achieve the perfect Patsy Stone 60s Model Look. Follow me, kids, and you’ll be paparazzi-ready in no time.

CLICK HERE FOR ADDITIONAL INSPIRATION.

Caviar and Bananas

Found myself the other night at Caviar and Bananas, a fabulous restaurant in New York’s Flatiron District, for yet another liquor tasting event. I go to a lot of these don’t I? Hmm, do you think this means something? YES! It means that I’m FABULOUS and I get invited to these types of things because the liquor companies realize my finger is on the pulse and that this blog is read by high-earning, high-spending urban twenty- to forty-somethings who look to me for information on the hottest trends in food, wine and cocktails. This time the spirit in question was Cachaca, the Brazilian booze bombshell distilled from sugarcane, the main ingredient in one of the world’s most delightful elixirs, the Caipirinha. And to accompany the four shots of cachaca, were delightful Brazilian cheese breads and Plantain chips served with caviar (Get it? Caviar and Bananas).

My companions for the evening were Archie, a talented faux-painter, and his partner Toland, a high-level fashion executive. Archie and Toland, as my friend Jim would say, are very “upper butt crack”, a distinction bestowed upon them because they are fortunate (translated: rich) enough to live in Museum Towers, own two Warhols, and have a closet full of shoes, all with a little red stripe riding up the back. I prefer to call them “The WE-WEEs”, because they fall into that category of gay male couples that speak exclusively in first person plural—at all times—as if united under a hive brain, devoid of individuality:

“Well, WE were so hating Easthampton this summer. Too much riff-raff.”
“No gelato for us, thanks. WE’re lactose intolerant.”
“WE thought the Chardonnay was way too oaky.”
“WE don’t really drink Chardonnay anyway.”
“No pictures! WE’re so bloated today.” (I forgot my camera anyway, so there).

We. We. Oui. Jesus, I felt as if I were back in France. And when the conversation somehow wound up with “WE think Lufthansa’s first class service is way better than Air France’s,” I was ready to WEep. And cut my throat from ear to ear so, when healed, I would resemble a puppet. Instead I agreed to taste a type of Absinthe, against my better judgement. Let’s just call it self-medication necessitated by an acute case of the WE-WEES. Of course, I asked Archie and Toland if they would like to partake in the Absinthe. “Oh no no no no no. I’m sure WE’d be up all night with OUR acid reflux!” As the little green Absinthe fairy circled around my hallucinating head, all I could think was, though I too am half of a WE, thank god I am still ME.

Paris!

The ultimate Budget Fabulous experience is to be taken to Paris for your birthday. Thank you, Dan.

So, I've created a special nano-blog, Budget Fabulous Paris, for all my postings while here in Paris. Check it out!

Random Hot Guys

I realize I've been incredibly subtle about the whole thing, so in case you haven't been able to read between the lines: I am not heterosexual. And as a non-heterosexual, there is one aspect of the Budget Fabulous experience that is particularly appealing. The Budget Fabulous Random Hot Guy.

Random Hot Guys come in all shapes, sizes and hues. Like good coffee, they can be light and sweet or dark and delicious. They can be young and fresh-faced or ruggedly mature. WIth really great pecs. They can even be famous. There is neither rhyme nor reason to the qualities that constitute a Random Hot Guy. It is merely a matter of the camera singling out a member of the male species, who at that moment in time, radiates an undefinable yet pleasing visual aesthetic. I don't even attempt to explain it, for it is larger than me. I just go with the flow.

Want to see a collection of B-Fab Random Hot Guys from posts past? I thought so. CLICK HERE.

And stay tuned, B-Fab is about to hit Paris for a little Bu-jet Fabulosité. Gay Paree will never be the same.

Boyfriend Fabulous

Received a voicemail last night around 11:00 from my boyfriend Dan that went approximately like this:

"My name's Mr. Budget Fabulous and I must be too busy blogging or too exhausted from blogging to pick up the phone and speak to my amazingly charming and attractive boyfriend, whom I must not think is fabulous enough, since I never seem to take him to events with me or mention him in Budget Fabulous."

So, here he is. Boyfriend Fabulous. Mentioned.

Party Ubiquity

Okay, just read this article in New York magazine about the fabulous Tinsley Mortimer and how she has been Party-Ubiquitous all summer. Meaning, if there was an opening or a reception with open bar and a gift bag, she was SO there. Like stink on sh*t. Here at Budget Fabulous, Party-Ubiquity is a coveted distinction. We should be so lucky. Please, we're begging to go to NY Rangers parties and this girl is front row and center at the Marc Jacobs show. Said Tinsley, when asked if she ever feels overwhelmed by the plethora of invitations she receives on a daily basis: "I used to work in PR. I'm not just going to events randomly. But yes, sometimes I hesitate to open my mailbox. It's kind of nice to open an invitation and see that the date has passed--and you did legitimately miss it. I usually wait, like, two weeks at a time."

Tinsley Tinsley Tinsley. Tins. Ti. T.* By all means, forward any and all those invitations you simply CAN'T HANDLE to us here at the Budget Fabulous Global Headquarters. I mean the thought of call-brand drinks and skewered party foods going unconsumed simply pains me to the core. IM me and I will give you our bricks and mortar address. Just make sure all invites are "Plus One". Thank you in advance, dahling, for your generous support of Budget Fabulous.

*Budget Fabulous Tip: assume instant intimacy with the Beautiful People by reducing their names to single syllables or, even better, single letters. It does nothing more than underscore the jovial familiarity you feel towards the person. It shows you're simpatico.

Budget Fabulous

Welcome to Budget Fabulous. My name is Jon Pannier and I am a 35-year-old, umm, okay a 39-year-old Vice President/Design Director at one of the world's largest advertising agencies, based in New York City. One would assume that with these credentials comes a hefty salary and generous expense account, affording me the finest dining and entertainment experiences imaginable. One would be wrong.

This poses a problem. You see, I love to go out. Every night. And while I am no stranger to the fabulous world of cocktail parties and rock-star chefs, I have recently come to the realization that my unrelenting quest for nightlife fabulosity has been slowly sending both myself, and my long-suffering boyfriend Dan, to the poor house. To further complicate matters, my smart (and adorable) financial adviser Christopher, of Ameriprise Financial, has encouraged me to, shall we say, curtail some of this excess and repurpose what little disposable income I have towards retirement. No more cocktails at Koi for me. No big dinner parties at Bette. I mean, someone please tell me why should I care about retirement? I’ll be far too old to be fabulous by then. But then some would say I’m far too old to be fabulous now. So I’ve decided (against my better judgment) to follow Christopher’s sage advice and reduce the amount allocated to the “Fabulosity” line item in my Excel budget.

Which takes us to the point of this blog. Being that I still crave nightly fabulosity, I am now forced to be more creative in planning my social life. Since my friends and I are directly connected to the marketing and PR worlds, it should be easy to glam onto invites to the various openings, receptions, product launches, etc. that take place on any given night right here in Manhattan. For example, I recently read about the opening of a toilet. Someone designed a new toilet and of course they threw an opening for it. I wasn’t invited to that one—but I should have been. So this blog will serve as a diary of my attempts to enter this exciting world of free wine and cheese while tightening my Brooks Brothers belt. More often than not, I will be accompanied by my trusty sidekick, my unrelenting partner in The Quest for Cost-Effective Fabulosity, Patty Yang (big hotshot Marketing Director for a major satellite radio company).

Marketers and PR folk, I now come to you to shamelessly grovel for invites to free, but fabulous, events. What's in it for you? My many years in advertising and marketing have taught me how to promote the hell out of anything, which is exactly what I'm going to do with this blog. I will drive tons of daily, demographically-sexy hipsterati traffic to this site. Invite Patty and me to all your fabulous events and I will mention mention mention the heck out of all your clients, and I will link link link to all their product pages. It’s a win win win situation.

Stay tuned. Three great events this week already!