Fashion's First Family

The Restoin Roitfelds are often hailed as the first family of fashion. There's the patriarch, Christian Restoin, who founded the clothing line called Equipment. His life partner, Carine Roitfeld, is the editor in chief of Paris Vogue.

Carine Roitfeld with Vladimir Restoin Roitfeld at the MOCA gala/Donato Sardella for WWD

Their son, Vladimir Restoin Roitfeld, is an up-and-coming curator who has collaborated with surf brand Rvca's artist network.

Rock & Republic's ad created by Julia Restoin Roitfeld

Their older daughter, Julia Restoin Roitfeld, is an art director who launched Rock & Republic's music-meets-bondage ad campaign last year (Mama would have given her stamp of approval) after interning for Fabien Baron.

Thanks to a fun and sassy Web site, I Want To Be a Roitfeld, we can all live vicariously through this ridiculously chic family.

Working the Weekend (with Lady Gaga)

Last weekend was a doozy for me. I didn't go on any benders and then wake up surrounded by countless bottles of champagne. Instead, I had to stay sober while covering back-to-back galas filled with philanthropists and celebs partying in a decadent pre-Great Recession haze. The apex of the revelry was the Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art's 30th birthday bash on Saturday night. In lieu of clowns, pony rides and cupcakes, the 1,000-plus guests celebrated with Brangelina, Lady Gaga's premiere of a new ballad with Italian artist Francesco Vezzoli and the Bolshoi Ballet, and coq au vin and mini baked Alaska pies whipped up by Wolfgang Puck. Plus, there was not one reality TV personality spotted within a 100-foot radius. (Perez Hilton, on the other hand, decked out in white sunglasses and a sequined jacket, came as a FOLGy -- Friend of Lady Gaga.)

Some discoveries of the evening that never made it in my story: Producer Ridley Scott was rather approachable and friendly when I had to grill him about his Gucci project (I thought he would lash after me a la the fighters in his movies "Blade Runner" and "Gladiator"). Eighth-grade fashion blogger Tavi Gevinson, bundled up in Rodarte and Missoni like a little gypsy, was smaller than I thought. I made James Franco laugh by asking if he was wearing a Guckie suit. Gwen Stefani accessorized her Dolce & Gabbana bustier with fake diamond earrings she bought in Thailand. Billionaire philanthropist Eli Broad only wears Brioni or Ermenegildo Zegna suits. I misheard Liz Goldwyn say "lesbians" when she actually said "burlesque queens." Hedi Slimane was more shy, unassuming and thoughtful than I expected from someone of his talent and reputation. A tentacle sleeve of my champagne-colored Gianfranco Ferre blouse made a cameo in a photo with K.D. Lang.

The one-night-only presentation was organized by Moscow's Garage Center for Contemporary Art and the Gagosian Gallery. In tribute to the Russians in the house, the posters lining the white tent erected in the middle of Grand Avenue paid homage to another distinguished Slav: Alexander Rodchenko. Here's a poster of Vezzoli done in that simple, clean, bold style.

The only time I got to sit down and relax was when Lady Gaga sang "Speechless" in Vezzoli's "Ballets Russes Italian Style (The Shortest Musical You Will Never See Again)." Unfortunately, I wimped out of challenging copyright law to post the ghetto video footage I took of the performance. But you can find some on YouTube.

Damien Hirst painted blue butterflies on the pink piano that Lady Gaga played during her performance. The Steinway was later sold in an auction -- with the help of leggy models in gold lame swimsuits and "The Price Is Right" theme song -- to Larry Gagosian for $450,000.

Following their performance, Lady Gaga and Vezzoli did quick costume changes to better enjoy their dinner with the MOCA crowd and later do a round of interviews with the press. The lady remained demure in another pouffy Prada dress, albeit one in black with a cutout revealing her pale tummy. She also switched her lipstick color from blue to black. Vezzoli slipped on a leather bomber jacket and jeans, but kept the rhinestone tear under his right eye. Now that's a true artiste.

Candy in Cookies

I rarely buy candy. But on Halloween, when Miguelito and I swung by the grocery store to pick up sweets to pass out to trick-or-treaters, I urged him to buy the mix of miniature Nestle Crunches, Butterfingers and Baby Ruths. Why? I had an ulterior motive to bake cookies with the leftover Halloween candy, using a recipe that I found on Goop. (The recipe is listed below.) I loved the way the caramel from the Baby Ruths and the Butterfingers' peanut flakes melted and then oozed out of the dough before hardening into crispy circles. Since only one kid rang our doorbell all night, I had enough chocolate bars to chop into two and a half cups of candy. The recipe is so good, that I'd use it on any of the other 364 days of the year.

Crystal’s TNTs
3 cups unbleached, all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
1 stick unsalted butter (8 tablespoons) at room temperature
1 cup packed brown sugar
1 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 tablespoons milk
2 to 3 cups candy, chopped (recommended: chocolate bars or chocolate covered anything, caramel anything, chips, pretzels, raisins; just so-so: lollipops, hard candies; not recommended: gum, gummies, pixi stix)

Preheat oven to 375° F. Line two cookie sheets with parchment paper.

In a medium bowl, whisk flour with baking soda and salt and set aside. In another medium bowl, cream butter and sugars together with a whisk or wooden spoon until light and fluffy (this takes about 3 minutes). Add eggs one at a time, thoroughly incorporating each, and then add vanilla and milk and beat until combined. Add the flour mixture to the butter mixture, mix until incorporated, then fold in chopped candy.

Drop by rounded tablespoons (a mini ice cream scooper is my favorite way to portion them) onto cookie sheets, leaving about 2 inches between each cookie (room to grow). Bake for 12 minutes or until golden brown. Let cool on a wire rack.

Yield: 4 dozen cookies.