This Sunday, an old assistant of mine, Norisol Ferrari (like the car), will present her line of bespoke creations at a fashion show at Safe Harbor NY, that 5000-squre-foot loft space at 446 Broadway just north of Howard. I went to a few great events there this past summer, and this figures to be fab. I'll give Norisol a plug here because she has traveled real far to get to this moment, and her story is entwined in the fabric of New York nightlife. Her biological parents gave her up at 11 -- first her mom, then her dad -- and she was a guest of various unsavory New York State facilities for girls like that. "That set the tone for the rest of my life," she says without a visible tear or even a whimper. The state facilities were like prison -- "I couldn't live there, so I ran away to New York. Another runaway took me to a club because they were warm and safe and rarely closed back then. The drag queens took care of me."

Robbie Martin, transvestite and all around nice person who had her 14-and-a-half minutes of fame in the flick Last Exit to Brooklyn, "was a savior. She and Cynthia Fuentes kept me alive. Dmitry and Kier from Deee-Lite fed me. I lived most of the time in [675 honcho] Adam Cooper's apartment with his brother [Miami scenester Michael Tronn]. Going out at night was fun after I found out what couch I could crash on. Back in those days, people sewed and shopped all day and created their own persona for that night ... everybody dressed, and I spent a lot of time just helping out. I wasn't sexually active but was constantly chased by boys. Lady Bunny would say yea or nay, stay or stay away from different guys ... she was like a mother to me, and you were like a dad."

I had seen Norisol around for a couple of years. I first noticed her at the World in 1988 or so. She was milling with the drag queens and club kids but traveled well in the older circles -- the fashionistas, the trendies, and the players. She was beautiful and street-tough with a stylish edge. She could shine in a white t-shirt, jeans, and boots one evening, and the next feature Christian Lacroix. When I opened the Palace de Beauté with Larry Tee, Michael Alig, Maurice Brahms, and some other old pros, I asked her to be my assistant. Unbeknownst to me, she was 15 years old. She told me she was 19, and at that time the drinking age was 18, and it was very common for younger types to be around. No excuses ... back then no one checked ID. It's hard to understand now in a world with restrictions on smoking and deep regulation, but back then there were no hours, as there were clubs which blasted their way till noon. There was no age restrictions -- it was kids and ancient players. Everything was different. It was a drastically different sexual world ... a dark and grungy time of late-night orgies and drugs and frenzy where clubs seemed safer than the streets but were not really safe at all. Gangsters and distractions were everywhere. Dark corners were filled with spider-like men and women with endless traps and pitfalls. It was common to loose a few friends to a bad batch of heroin over some lost weekend.

Today it's all sanitized and neat. I remember thinking this one night about a year ago, at Butter, when my ex exclaimed hysterically and louder than the decibels that she got "crystal on her Louboutins." Norisol was trying to survive in a jack- and combat-boot scene. She tells me, "I thought of myself as an adult back then ... I had been growned up fast." It's hard to believe those times ever existed, and the crash and burn of so many, including myself, often seems very necessary. Although I think the pendulum did swing a bit too far towards Pleasantville.

We launched the Palace de Beauté with our other assistant Susan Anton. Norisol and Susan distributed large multi-colored crystals as invites to VIPs. We were a smash. The Palace was located where Petco now lives in Union Square. The Coffee Shop had opened just before, and its crowd of A-listers walked across to validate us. We were a hit. Larry Tee was working hard on securing the hipster crowd of that day, while Michael Alig knew his presence alone would bring his flamboyant crew. He spent his days picking up underage hustler boys at the Port Authority and then bringing them back to meet us. We learned to hide our valuables.

So Norisol -- what was it like being my assistant, launching "the" club of the day at 15 years of age? An awesome responsibility ... you gave me so much creative freedom and respect. I hated disappointing you. You worked so hard, so many hours. I saw you more than your wife. Jennifer hated me, don't you remember that?

I don't remember a time when women fought over me. What clubs have you worked in? Oh, geez, since 1989? The Palace, Palladium, USA, Limelight, Redzone, Mars, the World, Tunnel ... Oh my, tons more. Recently, Bed, Pink Elephant, Aspen, Room Service. Clubs always fed me. I did a five-year stint in Europe where I decided to be a designer. Got a job at Gas Jeans, in Italy Came back to the US in 1999, did an underground film with Eli Morgan Gestner of Zoo, NY.

Eli was the leader of a posse of skateboarders. I convinced Peter Gatien to put a huge half-pipe at the end of the dance floor at the Tunnel, and Eli's crew, who still are out and about, played behind the chain-link fence. When did you say "No more clubs for me, I'm going to be a full-time designer." Serge Becker gave me Joe's Pub for my first ready-to-wear collection in 1999, and although I've occasionally had to go back to clubs to make ends meet, I knew my life was in fashion. I was still banging a buck out at night, and they still fed me, until about a year ago.

And your show is this Sunday. Yes, at 446 Broadway, this Sunday, November 1, 6:30pm. I've traveled a long road to bring this collection in, helped by incredible people who fed and inspired me.