• by Kelly Samardak , September 3, 2009

Uptown After Hours, Cafe at Saks Fifth Avenue, New York
September 2, 2009

"Sunday morning I'm waking up/Can't even focus on a coffee cup/Don't even know whose bed I'm in/Where do I start/Where do I begin." Where do I start, where do I begin? Because of the deplorable acts of others, I am not myself these days. The previous words were Chemical Brothers lyrics that spoke to a younger irresponsible me years and years ago (don't get literal) and now, without an ID, without cash, without my cards, without my camera, and now, because of an alleged theft last night, without my phone, I do lie in my own bed trying to focus on who I really am. Maybe I was letting my material possessions define me to the point of soul leakage and the universe is trying to plug the hole. Last night, Uptown brought it midtown and soon, I'm going to have to take someone downtown.

I have no idea why, but when I'm headed for Saks Fifth Avenue, I always stand on 6th and 50th, stomp one heeled foot down with exasperation and with a befuddled puff of air wonder "Where the hell is this place?" Fifth Avenue, Kelly. Fifth. Every time. Anyway, I entered the building, welcomed by the full assault of decadent fragrances and headed to the Café at SFA with Rebecca Reyes, IBM web editor extraordinaire. The doors opened to the shoe floor and jazz grabbed our earlobes and yanked us toward the café and check-in table.

The one word that truly describes the night is... tinkling. Not that kind of tinkling, you weirdo! The tinkling of jewels, of delicate glass bubble chandeliers, of plastic straws against the mouths of mini Moet bottles, of little burger buns jostling against each other on their silver platters. Tinkling. The tinkling of conversation ranging from the history of The Queen's chocolate and infidelity to the Harlem neighborhoods and how to make sure everyone is welcome. The tinkling of my nerves as a young man, Hummel (name changed to protect the... well, just to not mess with karma anymore), brushed the back of his hand not once but twice against my belly; after I corrected him gently, he rubbed my upper arm. The tinkling of the incredible warm smiles of the bartenders, helping impatient guests to navigate elsewhere for more Champagne -- but encouraging them to stay put to sample the Hennessey Black Uptown, a dangerous mix of Hennessey Black (which is clear), cranberry juice, apple juice, lime juice, and a blackberry garnish.

Tinkling.

Jackie Saril (the woman behind The Racktrap, too -- she does EVERYTHING) and Karen Hertz, of Squeakwheel Promotions, were sipping and gabbing with WPIX's Tamsen Fadal while relationship expert Matt Titus shared his expertise nearby. I had a fabulous time talking fashion and bubbly with Edward Coaxum, contemporary designer and shoe specialist (my kind of guy!) at Saks, and launched a tobacco leaf aggressively up my nose as Mark Montague, Northeast Sales Agent for Graycliff Cigars, instructed me on proper cigar-wafting technique. Mark Montague: that's a sword-fighting name.

I saw Brett Wright, Co-Founder and Chief Creative Officer of Uptown, scoot by, but I think he was in high demand last night. Also making the rounds were Uptown Editor in Chief Keija Minor, and publisher Jocelyn Taylor, who tried her best to quiet the Champagne-quaffing crowd in order to thank the band and give recognition to Ronald Brown and the Evidence Dance Company -- who were slated to perform, but were edged out by the amount of attendees. It would have been fascinating to see them avoid eye loss by stiletto.

Big thanks to Michael Williams, Robert from MTV, and their cast of hooligans for providing most of the laughter of the evening. Oh! I almost forgot Olympic Champion, hurdle leaper, and mini burger hunter Kevin Young (who was there with his sparkly bereted niece). In between burger bites I learned that Kevin Young holds the World AND Olympic record (as YET unbroken!) for Men's 400-Meter Hurdles. As a sidebar, I tried hurdles in high school. In case you don't know me, I'm 4'11", which qualifies as "stumpy." I faked a twisted ankle and never showed up for practice again. I know, I'm pretty awesome. 

The party was fabulous, the people were fabulous (why was everyone so tall?), and everything would have been A+ if only, after leaving the building and reaching to grab my BlackBerry to text The Boy, I hadn't discovered that my BlackBerry was missing. Oh, that's right. I checked my bag at coat check with my BlackBerry in it (wearing a dress, no pockets) and left without it. Good times. I'm crossing my fingers that it popped out while being jostled by other bags and coats, and that the good people of Saks Fifth Avenue will be able to discover and return it safe and sound. Seriously.

Send good karma and invitations to kelly@mediapost.com!

Check the after hour photos on Flickr!