Liesbeth werd fan, werd groupie, werd stalker

Confession: I have a slight obsession with Olivia Palermo and Johannes Huebl a.k.a. the hottest couple on earth. They live in New York and the idea that I could spot them here spotting has been giving me butterflies for weeks, I’m really going full groupie on that couple. It all started last Tuesday when May-Britt had a dinner at the Bijenkorf with all the editors-in-chief of the Netherlands and sat diagonally across from one Eduardo and Ricardo. These men turned out to be the designers of one of the coolest shoe brands ever: Aquazzura. A brand I mainly know because O.P. (as Johannes calls her) owns about a thousand pairs of them and I had seen them on her slender legs multiple times. A total wave of hysteria took over me when May Whatsapped me that she A was sitting at the table with these two, and B that she knows Olivia very well. So well, in fact, that they were present at The Proposal. You understand, it was almost too much for me, Olivia was only a few handshakes away.

You understand, it was almost too much for me, OLIVIA was only a few handshakes away.

Meanwhile, we have arrived in New York and the hunt started the moment I walked through customs on Friday afternoon. On Saturday, we started with the Lacoste show at Lincoln Center at 10 AM and I could already see Olivia strolling across the square, but none of that happened. No Olivia, no Johannes. That afternoon we had several shows and appointments, so with the jetlag heavily weighing on our eyelids, we rushed through NYC to be on time everywhere, which barely worked. Since everything was of course miles apart, we missed the Rebecca Taylor show, so we were on time for the Baja East presentation, so we thought, okay, fine, it is what it is. But then, ladies and gentlemen, I saw a photo on Instagram of O.P. in a taxi with the text “on my way to Rebecca Taylor.” The disappointment was rarely greater, so close, yet so far away.

The DISAPPOINTMENT was rarely greater, so close, yet so far away.

The next day, Sunday, is even more intense than Saturday in terms of schedule. Everything is happening at the same time on the other side of the city, including at 5 PM the show of Diane von Furstenberg, 6 PM Tim Coppens, 7 PM Porsche Design, and also at 7 PM drinks with the guys from Aquazurra at the Carlyle Hotel. For DvF, we are outside the door taking photos when I suddenly see a purple coat with shiny hair flash by in my peripheral vision, it was Olivia. It was her! Only I didn’t see much more than her hair and coat, so I am far from satisfied. The show started late, causing us to almost completely miss Tim Coppens, and during DvF it started snowing impossibly hard, making everyone quite fed up with running around outside. Wine or cocktails at the Carlyle sounds very appealing and besides, they are our new best friends, so we can’t keep them waiting. The Carlyle it is. Anyway, you probably feel it coming, I haven’t even had a second with a glass of white wine, check my Instagram and see a photo of O.P, front row, with Johannes, at Porsche. Now I ask you.

So far, it seems that fate does not want us to meet, see, or whatever, and especially the constant almost-not irritates me immensely. The lessons we have learned are at least to never EVER miss a show and secondly to get better at tapping phones, so I can just look in her agenda myself and no longer have to wait for Instagram. From fan to groupie to stalker, I don’t care. Keep you posted.