Who hates big fashion labels? I don’t. Nah-uh. It takes two flagship store openings, Diesel and Coach, to bring in Stretch Armstrong, Eli Escobar, Tittsworth, Pase Rock, Amanda Blank, the Popettes and John Mayer, all within the week. And then Volar hosted Ed Banger at HITEC.

So we were whisked off in shuttles from the new Diesel flagship store on Queen’s Road to the Pop TV Arena in West Kowloon at around 9:30pm. That’s where they had the major LV event earlier this year.

The show started really late, and I cursed myself for not bringing a fan—it was sweltering. On the elevated DJ altar, The Popettes from the UK were all decked out and having a lot of fun by themselves. Phierce with a ph. And total props to Wilbert Das and the Diesel Creative Team—they’ve added much needed aesthetics to the Diesel brand with the creative color (lots of bone and gray, mysterious neutrals that I love), unanticipated contrasts of materials (denim + cashmere + soft leathers) and unforeseen silhouettes. A lot of people were like, “uh, normal people can’t wear this shit.” Whatever. Who would want to see NORMAL jeans and denim jackets AGAIN ad nauseum, in varying shades of blue? I don’t. Nah-uh. Nightlife can own those balloon pants. And bring it with that bag. Styling depends on layering, like a great collage, or musical piece, or oil painting, or a fabulous dish. Those Diesel stylists worked it over.

I had never sweated so much in my entire life. The giant TV screens heated up the entire length of the stage. Together with a roof and crowd trapping in all the heat, it was pretty much a fahionista furnace in the front. Didn’t really see the show either, as I just stayed in one spot, near the ocean for the breeze and the fans. No, not electric fans, I meant readers who enjoyed my column and worshipped my wit and style.

Wasn’t planning to go to Coach on Fri. In fact, I almost felt like I had been there already, because before getting off at the Diesel tent on Wednes, everybody on the bus saw the Coach tent with all those Cs. Bizarre.

But then I went anyway. Not a major fan of John Mayer, but when he came out and just started singing, I was mesmerized. And I kept going forward, in a trance, towards the stage. That man is angelic. Too bad half of the people at Coach were DEAF. And BLIND. I’m going to be hated for this, but BITCHES PLEASE, shut the fuck up. Why do y’all stand in FRONT of the stage and TALK at a bloody performance? There’s a whole parking lot outside if you want to chat and scream and socialize. There’s the VIP section at the back with hors-fuckin-d’oeuvres, so why don’t you just go to the back room and let the John Mayer fans enjoy Your Body Is A Wonderland.

Ed Banger was a mess. Not hot. There was a drinking section that was separate from the dancing section. I, on the other hand, was a hot mess after all that free champagne at Coach, so I serendipitously climbed on stage for a boogie, where I saw my intern Caroline. I proclaimed her fierce as none of editorial were there, except for me (and our Breathtaking Editor) and she was on the freakin stage. And promised that she’d get a mention in my column, so there.