Bedlam in Bedlam

When we left Mr. Bell at Barneys on Monday evening, he asked that the next day we go into the store, present ourselves to the sales representatives and reccy the Third Floor, which is where he envisages presenting us. First up I wanted to restock my favourite perfume, "Amoureuse" by Parfums Delrae, such as I discovered when billeted on the West Coast. The lady on the counter tried to sway my nose with their new whiff, "Emotionelle". If you recall that in the last blog I told you "Toy Story 3" made me cry, you will understand that I am the last woman on earth who needs a perfume called that, so I stuck with my old olfactory favourite.

On the Third Floor our dear Stefan Campbell was waiting for us and together we scoped out the sitch. Mr Bell asked us to walk the floor with a focus on how not to be "drowned" by the names already there. And we're talking names with some serious, resonating gravitas here - Dries, Jil, McQueen, Lanvin, Paul Smith, Rick Owens, Thom Browne, YSL and more of that elevated ilk.

Mr Stefan Campbell with the Earl on the Third Floor at Barneys

We introduced ourselves to HB who is just visible behind the desk above and dressed him up in Leslie's rasta-sweata. Now here's the magical thing, HB is taller than Mr Wesley and it looked great on him. André, who works with us back in London, is, how can I put this, quite a bit smaller yet it looks great on him too. So clearly the piece has magical fit qualities. We formulated a strategy involving a padded podium and iron bars and thereby exhausted, rose to the Fifth Floor to reward ourselves with dinner at Fred's. Then we tottered out onto Madison, but not before Mr Campbell took a picture of your two envoys of Bedlam, rolling our world in a Globe Trotter trunk along the corridors of the most stylish store in the universe. As SJP once told Vanity Fair, "If you're a nice person and you work hard, you get to go shopping at Barneys. It's the decadent reward.":

Dinner at Barneys beats Breakfast at Tiffany's

It does look a little secure-institutional here, in front of the elevators

Mark, jolly guard and pretty Julie in another elevator hall

Telesccope Face not Rolling Pin Face

The next day, Wednesday, Arsenal were playing Barcelona, and not only did Mr Wesley manage to find a pub screening the match but a gaggle of raggle taggle supporters, New Yorkers and a random Japanese man, who were so excited to meet the authentic Gooner deal, they stood him drinks all through play. I did possibly have a bit of a rolling pin face on when he got back to the apartment as we were late to meet my funny, feisty, fit, bass-playing friend Julie at the Empire State Building. She is going to be in our band, Earl and the Bedlams not least because she has the Willy Wonker Golden Rock-Star Pass that fast-tracks its bearer to the top of the pops - Hell yeah! - AND the top of tower. From there we gazed down upon the city.
"If we can mmm-mmm make it there... " ah c'mon, you know the rest.

Bedlam beholds Gotham through the bars

Brought down to earth, we hailed a cab and made our way to the Lower East Side
where sits the Bedlam Bar - www.bedlamnyc.com - on Ave C and Third.

When they opened before Christmas it garnered quite some column inches. Its opening night was attended by Sarah Jessica-Parker, Empress of Manhattan and Barneys' own PR dream. The event even made it into this publication, and we prophesied that in time we would present ourselves there. Well tonight that prophesy was fulfilled as we hosted our salute to the city and invited friends to come raise a tankard with the Earl. As their logo they have the dome of the Bethlehem Asylum, now the Imperial War Museum along the road from us.
On its card it gives three definitions of "Bedlam" - its own self; "a popular name for the Hospital of St. Mary of Bethlem in London, which served as a lunatic asylum from c.1400; and finally, "a scene or state of wild uproar and confusion."
Yes well, I think we can safely say we proved them correct in that. And our loyal much loved buddy of yore, Redboy - www.redboy.com and http://www.streetandstage.com/ - was there to record it for posterity (where not credited the shots below are mine, with contributions from Mr Andrew Clancey also). Many thanks to Sam the bar manager and our server - who will please forgive me mislaying the letters of his name other than the T with which it began - for indulging us.

Miss Michele Jaffe "cake" was also feeling indulgent when she agreed to model the most versatile piece of knitwear, Leslie's Rasta Jumpa.
www.michelejaffe.com

Redboy snaps the sweet woolly biscuit cake

Mr Campbell honoured us once again with his support and my surrogate mom and dad from LA, Francine & Paul also came along. I am happy beyond the clouds to report - and naturally relieved that I am no longer a ward out of wedlock - that they got so drunk they got engaged, and you can't put a finer stamp on a night than that. Check out their make-up company http://www.mudshop.com/:

Me with my West Coast Mudder and Fadder

Stefan, me and him

Sam the Bedlam bar manager wipes his brow. He forgot to heed the warning.

Ricky and the Earl get riotous

The Earl flanked by Messrs. Red and Clancey

Mr. Clancey passes one of the less outré of the initiation rituals to become a Bedlamite

The night rolled on and Mr Red recorded the good vibes, leading the die-hards on to one of his favourite whiskey dungeons before we called it a night. We let him have just enough sleep before rousing him to shoot the clothes the next day, some of which were worn tonight. It has been explained to those with an interest in placing an order that authentic beer stains and floor scuff are extra.