A VANITY EXCLUSIVE
The magazine’s bash amply upholds its reputation for being an A- lister hangout.
The glitz and A- list celebrity of the Vanity Fair Oscar party is really a sight to behold.
The Vanity Fair Oscar party has long been recognized as the most exclusive Hollywood bash of the year. But until you actually pass through its hallowed doors, it’s hard to understand what all the fuss is about.
Just getting to the door is difficult. First, you and your 13- year- old Prius must join a line of black SUVs and go through three security checkpoints — the same number of car stops as at the actual Oscars.
Then you must agree to a set of rules. No interviewing. No tweeting. No picture- taking. Notes may be taken on your phone, but only in a corner, where few will notice you. Oh, and you can stay only one hour, so make the most of it.
At this point, you’re probably asking yourself: Why even go? And then Lady Gaga and Elton John get out of a white Rolls-Royce in front of you and are promptly serenaded by a mariachi band. Suddenly you’re like, yeah, I guess there are worse places I could be.
The party has bounced around different venues over the years — Morton’s steakhouse, the Sunset Tower, a West Hollywood parking lot. On Sunday, for a second year, it’s in a custom space connecting the Wallis Annenberg Center for the Performing Arts and Beverly Hills City Hall.
After I awkwardly run down the red carpet, I walk into the party and see half a dozen big stars before I even turn my head. There’s Caitlyn Jenner, statuesque in a red gown, chatting with Kris Jenner’s BFF Melanie Griff ith. Selena Gomez wears something shiny. Oscar presenter Sofia Vergara is sans hubby Joe Manganiello. And songwriter Diane Warren is upset that her song with Lady Gaga was overlooked by the academy in favor of Sam Smith’s “Writing ’s on the Wall” for “Spectre.”
“I mean, it’s my eighth time losing. I didn’t think I’d lose this time,” she says, shaking her head. “I mean, [ Lady Gaga] gave the best performance I’ve ever seen in my life. That’s like an Oscar moment of all time.”
If Warren is looking to soothe her sorrows at the party, there’s certainly plenty of comfort food available. Servers hand out In- N-Out burgers and sugar-glazed beignets from Bouchon. And the stars — likely relieved to be at the tail end of awards season — are actually eating. I see Rooney Mara eat French fries.
There is a lot of smoking too. Cigarette girls wander around carrying trays of smokes containing actual nicotine or just sugar. Courtney Love seems to be a fan of the candy — I see her gnawing on a few of the confections during my hour.
Listing all of the celebrities I see in just 60 minutes is kind of meaningless — frankly, it’d be easier to list the famous people who weren’t there. The star- to-civilian ratio is so high that celebs wait up to 20 minutes to step into the photo booth. While Lana Del Rey piles in with a bunch of her friends, models Emily Ratajkowski and Ashley Graham patiently wait their turn.
Elsewhere, partygoers seem transfixed by Ben Aff leck and Jennifer Garner. The actress, of course, is on Vanity Fair’s cover this month, saying less than-glowing things about her estranged husband. I don’t witness any PDA, but the two do seem cordial around each other and spend the majority of the party by each other’s side.
Other star couple sightings? Paul Dano and Zoe Kazan, Miranda Kerr and Snapchat founder Evan Spiegel, a very pregnant Anne Hathaway with husband Adam Shulman, and Jessica Biel and Justin Timberlake, who seems to know everyone in the room — he gets huge hugs from P. Diddy and “SNL” video collaborator Andy Samberg.
Silicon Valley shows up in force as well — Spiegel chats with Facebook’s Sheryl Sandberg, and Apple CEO Tim Cook makes an appearance. Not surprisingly, though, the person who seems to attract the most attention is Taylor Swift.
She doesn’t roll up to the party alone, of course: In her Oscars squad are her brother, the singer Lorde, model Lily Aldridge and Aldridge’s husband, Kings of Leon guitarist Caleb Followill.
Just when my hour is up at 12: 45 a. m., Ms. Swift also heads for the exit. She passes Nick Jonas — high f ive, “How’s it going, buddy?” But as she and her posse emerge onto Santa Monica Boulevard, fans lined up across the street spot her and begin chanting her name. She takes cover in a tent where guests wait for their cars. Patricia Clarkson, sitting on a couch, bleary- eyed at the late hour, seems amused by the gaggle of tall, pretty girls.
Less star- struck is “Love’s” Gillian Jacobs, who’s hanging out with “Game of Thrones’ ” Emilia Clarke. Jacobs is more interested in beignets than Swift. While waiting for her ride, she grabs a bag of the Bouchon doughnuts — guests are given to- go packets upon exiting — and tosses a few in her mouth.
And that’s how you end an awards- season right.