Liesbeth turned fan turned groupie turned stalker
Confession: I’m slightly obsessed with Olivia Palermo and Johannes Huebl a.k.a. the prettiest couple on earth. They live in New York, and the idea that I might spot them has been giving me the heebie-jeebies for weeks. They’ve turned me into an utter groupie. It all started last Tuesday when May-Britt, together with all the editors-in-chief of the Netherlands, enjoyed a dinner in the Bijenkorf and sat across these guys called Eduardo and Ricardo who turned out to be the designers of one of the coolest shoe brands ever: Aquazzura. A brand that I mostly know because O.P (as Johannes calls her) owns about a thousand pairs, which I subsequently spotted several times on her slender legs. An absolute surge of hysteria erupted when May whatsapped me that she A. sat across this couple, and B. that they happen to know Olivia really well. They know her that well that they were actually present at The Proposal. You must understand, I almost couldn’t handle it, Olivia was only a few handshakes away.
You must understand, I almost couldn’t handle it, OLIVIA was only a few handshakes away.
We’ve arrived at New York and the hunt started the moment I passed customs on Friday afternoon. Saturday we started at 10AM with the Lacoste show at the Lincoln Center and I just envisioned Olivia strutting across the square, but this didn’t happen. No Olivia, no Johannes. That afternoon we went to several shows and appointments, and with the jet lag heavy on the eyelids, we ran across NYC to arrive everywhere on time, which we barely succeeded at. Everything is nowhere near each other, which made us miss Rebecca Taylor’s show, but arrive on time at Baja East’s presentation. And so we thought, okay, fine, we’ll just have to make do. But then, ladies and gentlemen, I saw on Instagram a photo of O.P in a taxi with the caption “on my way to Rebecca Taylor.” The disappointment has never been as great, so close, yet so far away.
The DISAPPOINTMENT has never been as great, so close, yet so far away.
The next day, Sunday, was even more hectic than Saturday. Literally everything happened all across town at the same time with at 5 Diane von Furstenberg’s show, at 6 Tim Coppens, 7 Porsche Design to conclude at 7 with drinks with the men of Aquazzura at the Carlyle Hotel. We stood outside shooting some photos when I saw a purple coat with shiny hair from the corners of my eyes; it was Olivia. It was her! Though I didn’t see much more than her coat and hair, so satisfying it not was. The show started late which practically made us miss Tim Coppens, and it snowed so intensely during DvF that everyone was done running around outside. Wine or cocktails at the Carlyle sounded very appealing, and besides, our new best friends were already there and we couldn’t keep them waiting. The Carlyle it was. Great, well, you probably already feel it coming. I had a glass of white wine for about a second when, as I checked my Instagram, I saw a photo of O.P. sitting front row with Johannes at Porsche. What’s going on?
It looks like fate doesn’t want us to meet, see, whatever, and especially missing them last-minute irritates me endlessly. The lessons we’ve learnt are in any case that we should never NEVER miss a show, and to work on our phone tapping skills so that I’m able to look into her calendar myself, and don’t have to wait for Instagram. From fan to groupie to stalker, I couldn’t care less. Keep you posted.
