● Valentino wants hot men, and he wants them now! The legendary Italian designer went to 1Oak last Sunday for their gay night, but left shortly after arriving when he found nothing visually pleasing. [P6]
● Britney Spears has soiled her private jet by leaving junk food everywhere and letting her puppies do their business on the plane floor. [PostChronicle]
● Speaking of classy, former Hef-girlfreind Kendra Wilkinson is starting her own line of stripper poles. Wilkinson describes them as “... like Carmen Electra's, but ... better.” [UsWeekly]

“It’s the end of an era,” director Matt Tyrnauer said while introducing Valentino: The Last Emperor during its opening night at the Film Forum Wednesday. While the statement may seem a bit extreme (especially coming from a young director obviously intent on promoting his debut film), it’s anything but. As you’ve likely heard, the documentary in question follows the iconic designer as he celebrates the 45th anniversary of his namesake fashion house, faces the brand’s being sold off to an outside party, and, eventually, announces his retirement. While the film is well worth watching regardless of ones interest in fashion -- it’s chock-full of comic relief, intimately human moments, and plenty of celebrities -- altogether the documentary touches on something immensely historically significant: the end of the era of couture.

Last night at the MoMA, while the aristocracy of the fashion and entertainment worlds trailed in and out of the star-studded premiere of Valentino: The Last Emperor hosted by Quintessentially and the Gilt Groupe, the designer’s pooches stole the show. While only there in spirit -- Valentino’s six pugs, Molly, Milton, Monty, Margot, Maude, and Maggie -- were the hot topic of the evening.

A fashion god who has designed impeccable creations for socialites and celebrities ranging from Jackie O to Gwyneth Paltrow, Valentino celebrates his 45-year history and recent retirement with a documentary film, a museum retrospective and a lavish coffee table book. Here, the couture icon talks business and pleasure with James Servin while in the midst of a “fashion detox.”

And just like that, the city is alive again. Let’s romanticize this, this end of summer, return to the city, vapid and self-important seven days of fantastic shows and merrymaking that is otherwise known as Fall Fashion Week. You know what I’m about to say. Insert varied Candace Bushnell-esqe clichés insinuating the foray into fall: the September air, the tanned Hamptonites returning from their dream cloud, and day-timers overflowing with party invites. Sounds fine to me, especially since I spent the end of summer checking my spam folder for possibly missing evites. The open bars were closed or existed only in sober memory, the swag bags had no swag -or bag for that matter, and I drank my ego deflation away at the Beatrice an embarrassing number of times. Finally, it began last night at the premiere of The Red Thread: The Inspiration and Passion of Valentino Garavani.