Copenhagen Fashion Week: Dansk vs.By Malene Birger afterparty

On Friday night around 2330hrs we headed to the Dansk vs. By Malene Birger afterparty at Jazzhouse. One of our number was an interior designer who had never the dubious pleasure of attending a fashion party.

His eyebrows shot up in to his hairline when we entered the hot, sweaty, crepuscular bar. I think he had rather been expecting this, or maybe a white loft space, with strategically placed orchids and maybe some Diptique candles gently wafting their scent. Unfortunately for him, the prevailing fragrance of the evening was beer.

Not that this dampened our - or anyone else’s - enthusiasm. Christ can those Danes party. I have never in over a decade of attending fashion parties seen editors, famous actresses or CEOs let their hair down with such unbridled enthusiasm amongst the usual motley crew of assistants, hangers on and random fashion people.

As Thriller belted out the speakers I almost expected a re-enactment of the Jennifer Garner scene from 13 Going on Thirty. As it was, the DJ segued into The Kings of Leon’s Sex on Fire, and the dancefloor erupted with air-punching Danes.

I cannot tell a lie; I was doing dancing too. Unfortunately I was rocking some fuck off Bionda Castana heels along with my black sequined cocktail tunic dress and there is only so much frolicking one can do in even the most comfortable of high heels. I retired to the stage where I sat with the interior designer, rotating my ankles to the beat of the music, and watching the packed dancefloor gyrate.

We called it a day at 3am.

My hotel was still heaving with exceedingly tipsy fashion people when I got back, and I fought an internal battle as to whether I should go perch at the bar to chat up some of the rather attractive Danish men giving me glances, but my good angel won out, reminding me of my 9am studio appointment and I wandered off barefoot to my very comfortable bed, heels swinging from my fingers.