Hit up a super sweet NYLON party at Villains Vault in the Haight neighborhood in San Francisco last Friday and took some photos for SF Station. Their fine assortment of flashy Nixon watches were the stars of the party, their big and bold style make for a stellar wrist decoration for guys and girls.
Check out the entire gallery I shot of the event at www.SFStation.com
Hipsters galore, this party was stacked with ridiculously good style on the shelves and on the tiny frames of San Francisco residents in attendance. Vintage blazers, perfectly worn-in boots, lots of flattering black, handmade accessories and outfits that took some artful inspiration to arrange.
Free booze was provided by the always appropriate PBR and the bartenders were quite charming even after serving some of the same throats three and four pours.
The photo lounge was set with a box full of hideous Christmas props: the usual ugly green and red sweaters, scarfs straight from the snowman, a Mrs. Claus frock and cute mittens and hats for the daring models. Piggy back rides, proposals and lots of good looking people got dressed and undressed and posed in front of the green screen– I felt like I was at a 2001 Abercrombie and Fitch holiday bag fashion shoot.
I really liked the way this kid’s wrist looked wrapped with two fancy Nixons instead of the traditional, one time-machine per person.
After the in-store shindig, we got invited to hit up the after party at some apartment down Haight Street and attended with multiple forties in hand. The speakers blared with a Lil’ Wayne Pandora play-list and the living room smelled like nail polish, due to the furniture taggers using paint pens to scribble out their name on the bookshelf and spare mattress in the corner.
I soon learned that fourteen people live in that 12 bedroom apartment. Two kitchens, neither of which had more than a few cans of beer and to-go boxes in their refrigerators and closets filled with more extra mattresses.
One guy lives a closet attached to another small room, which is only accessible by climbing through a window. His mattress lies atop a mess of chicken wire, atop a window, which is the ‘sky light’ of the cafe downstairs on Haight Street.
Another room only had a drumset inside and a few blankets in the corner.
Later on in the evening the party really got wild and a few hipster boys stared throwing punches. It seemed to clear up but then another half-hour passed and three more boys in skinny jeans were rolling around on the floor, kicking and hitting in a whirlwind of flannel and slouchy hats. One of the main trouble instigators was wearing a Christmas sweater with teddy bears on the front.
I was shocked. I guess I wasn’t aware that hipster boys were like other, overly masculine men, filled with disgusting rage and desire to get physical when booze and ladies are present. I was not impressed. As to what they were fighting about, I couldn’t say, but I would guess it was a disagreement over which Sonic Youth album is better or maybe someone’s said ‘vintage’ leather jacket had an Urban Outfitters tag still attached. Sick.
