The Hellp, Lux and Wolf Gillispie & Special Guests at the ZORA Party for Paris Fashion Week

Parisian it girls Molly and J Baby threw a party in collaboration with Zora, Post Party, and Biuro. It was the most hectic event of Fashion Week and here’s what went down.

8.30 P.M. 
Wolf and Lux are already waiting for us in front of Gallopin, where we are gathering for a pre-party dinner. We occupy three tables on the internal smoking terrace and order drinks. Those more sensible than I stick to beer and wine. I manically down two Martinis. Wolf joins me. Molly, Jordan and I order food: miso salmon, fries, side salad. The fashion kids and models abstain from eating. Naturally. 

9.15 P.M.
The phone rings. The callous gentleman who owns the club where our event takes place in less than 2 hours informs us that the sound system is not working. Molly argues with him, demanding he fixes it. He pretends he doesn’t understand English. Molly, her vermilion cheeks and blonde hair, rushes out to fix the problem. I don’t think I could name a person who knows less about sound system installation than her. Her food and Cosmopolitan remain untouched. 

10.30 P.M. 
I arrive with the remainder of the crowd to Tape, the 1st Arr venue. The entrance sort of resembles that of a strip club. I stare at the leopard carpeting and attempt to convince Molly that people will be too distracted with the interior design choices to even notice the lack of music. Noah and Chandler could also appreciate a night off. 

11.30 P.M. 
The party starts. We are running half an hour behind, and there is a queue outside,which serpantines around the block. I greet a ravishing crowd of well-dressed friends who are itching to get inside. 

11.45 A.M.
The impatient outsiders finally pour into the club. Lux Gillispie plays the first song: Sweet Emotion by Aerosmith. He plays it off the DJ booth’s sole deck, as the other one hasn’t arrived yet. No chance for smooth transitions. My peripheral vision takes notice of J Baby, tight beige bondage dress hugging her silhouette and black wedged heels carrying her feet as she deals with every oncoming crisis. 

12 A.M.
The other deck prodigally arrives. Lux plays Rottweiler by Esdee Kid. The air thickens with cigarette smoke and warm exhales from the beautiful dancers. Time slows down, and the ecstasy of movement holds space as its own. Let the party begin. 

12.30 A.M.
I ignore my phone and the fifty-seven messages it holds captive. My friends have yet to master the subtle art of egalitarianism.

1 A.M.
The lights turn off. The music stops. Complete power shut down. Someone puked on Lux while he was transitioning to the next song, ruining the decks. The saliva stained CDJ rests in peace. 

1.09 A.M.
I climb on top of one of the VIP tables to get a better view of the situation. Why… why is nobody leaving? Why doesn’t anarchy take rule, the event getting shut down? Everyone stands patiently, waiting, unwilling to leave. I don’t mean to stroke my ego but that has to be the hallmark of a good event. 

1.11 A.M.
Miracle! Music is back on! No lights, but, c’est la vie – a little discretion never killed anyone. Hurrah! 

1.30 A.M. 
Cobrasnake arrives. Everyone’s posture tightens as they await having their portrait taken by the king of nightlife. 

1.45 A.M. 
The AC finally turns back on! The sweat from dancing slowly evaporates. I put an ice cube on the nape of my neck and light a cigarette. 

2 A.M. 
The Hellp stumbles in. All skinny pants and leather jacket, they make their way to the VIP. Suddenly, bottles of vodka and girls swarm around them like hornets. Lux, his girlfriend Elsa, Wolf and Noah drink Belvedere from a glowing bottle. It’s so crowded and vivacious I give up any hope of making my way to the bathroom. 

2.20 A.M.
We are forbidden from smoking outside. We MUST smoke inside, so as not to disturb neighbours. The French ridicule persists.

2.45 A.M.
The Hellp comes on. The crowd erupts. 

2.55 A.M.
A girl runs into the bathroom and throws up into the sink. Then throws up some more on her hair. Cobra snaps a couple of pics and moves on. 

3 A.M.
I have a strange conversation with Gaspar Noé. Though details are fuzzy, the basis of our dialogue centers around him asking why I can’t add more of his friends to the guestlist. We are four hours into the event. 

3.30 A.M. 
I sit down for the first time. I furrow my browns and sink my face into my palms. Three more hours to go. No sign of the crowd dying down. The Hellp controls the rhythm of the room and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a dance floor more alive.

4 A.M. 
Luca, who arrived in Paris merely hours before the event, has just been on tour with The Hellp for two months. He introduces me to Noah. We’ve met before. We briefly converse about the coincidence of both of our names being Noa(h). He is disinterested and does not hide it. 

4.30 A.M. 
The density of people slowly dissolves. I bump into Molly. She informs me she is leaving. I remind her that this is her event. She, too, is disinterested in my observations. 

4.35 A.M.
We leave our own event. Cobrasnake, Matt Weinberger, Molly, and I make our way to the afters. I take off my pants and drink prosecco from the bottle. Mark and Matt take some photos. I’m having the time of my goddamn life. 

6 A.M.
Molly and I get out of the cab in front of her house. She turns to me and asks: Where are we?

Words	Noa Fischer
Photography	The Cobrasnake