Nothing Comes Between Me and My Warhols

Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match. When art looks at fashion, it sees glamour, sex appeal and lots of shiny lucre. When fashion looks at art, it sees depth, intellect and culture. The blissful union of the two has spawned the Fondazione Prada, Richard Prince handbags for Louis Vuitton, most of the social calendar of Art Basel Miami and other fruitful, fruity enterprises.

Last night, couture and kunst once again made sweet love as Calvin Klein hosted a party in collaboration with LAND (Los Angeles Nomadic Division, a public-art initiative) to celebrate the opening of Art Los Angeles Contemporary, an international fair at the Pacific Design Center.

The show itself was surprisingly intimate and jolly—not nearly as punishing as this type of thing tends to be. Without much heavy-duty, blue-chip artwork weighing down the proceedings, the fair instead focused on the work of younger artists, presented casually in a series of empty PDC showrooms. The fair runs through January 31, and if you're anywhere near West Hollywood, it's well worth checking out. Don't forget your rainbow flag.

As for the post-opening shindig, that was jolly, too, if not particularly intimate. In addition to booze and starlets (hot tamale Penélope Cruz, crazy insect woman Kate Bosworth, etc.), there were installations by artists Jennifer West and Jean Shin and curator Neville Wakefield—all inspired by the designs of Calvin Klein creative directors Francisco Costa and and Italo Zucchelli. 

With throbbing music and video projections in a raw, unfinished space (across the street from the PDC), the hoedown had a zippy, cinematic vibe—think Eyes of Laura Mars party scene meets Less Than Zero New Year's bash. There's one thing I can say about the fashion crowd: They know how to live it up, and they're not afraid to embrace superficiality and sybaritic delight without apology.

As for the art folks, well, they apparently want to get down and boogie L.A. style, but they just can't seem to get it right. Memo to the art fair organizers: Next year, leave the glamour to the professionals and skip the embarrassing red carpet. If the best celebrity you can come up with is Doogie Howser, it's probably wiser not to call in the paparazzi. Just a thought.