Fashion Week is arguably one of the more stressful times of the year when it comes to getting dressed, what with all the style bloggers, photographers and twitpic posters following your every move. By Wednesday, I was certainly feeling some fashion fatigue, so I was a bit apprehensive when I received the invite for that night’s V Magazine Black & White Ball, celebrating their Heroes Issue: boys were instructed to wear “Black and White evening”; girls were told to be Elizabeth Taylor inspired.

Seeing as I am many breast augmentations and Sugar Daddies short of emulating Ms. Taylor’s voluptuous, diamond covered physique, I was at a loss. National Velvet equestrian? Cleopatra? Crazed Cat on a Hot Tin Roof?

I went for Butterfield 8 (aka a slip dress) and upon arriving at the Boom Boom Room was glad I did—it seemed most guests had either missed the Taylor directive or ignored it altogether.

Not that it put a damper on the evening: the room’s ceiling was covered in a sea of black and white balloons whose silver tails dangled over people (and into their drinks) like tentacles; there were stuffed zebras in various corners and on the bar, a glass sculpture of a crouching naked woman. Waitresses passed out trays of black and white Magnum Ice Cream bars.

And just thirty minutes into the party’s start time, the space was so packed it was sweating room only. Linda Evangelista chatted with Joseph Altuzarra, in a striped sailor shirt; Cecilia Dean maneuvered in a voluminous white Viktor & Rolf gown with impressive ease; Oliver Theyskens chatted with a tomboyish model and a drag queen resembling a Naomi Campbell impersonator barreled through the crowd.

Over at the bar, the model Saskia de Brauw and a friend rather charmingly tried to pay for their beverages with a black Amex, not realizing the board was gratis and Cynthia Rowley and Bill Powers congratulated Prabal Gurung on his show before offering him a drink.

“Just a beer—nothing fancy,” he said.

“You know the champagne’s free?” joked Powers, before ignoring his request.

Andre Pejicj entered in a ruffled white shirt, black sequined hot pants and thigh high socks, licking a Magnum chocolate bar suggestively for a video camera while Lady Bunny, the evening’s DJ, played “Let the Sunshine In.”

Around midnight, Sky Ferreira sang “If You Could Read My Mind,” followed by cast members of Priscilla Queen of the Desert performing a medley of “Finally.”

Lindsay Lohan made an appearance soon thereafter, installing herself in a booth with Rowley, whose show she took in last week, and a group of friends. Looking practically unrecognizable with snow white blonde hair, she still managed to attract attention (shocking, I know) and had many amateur snappers shooting photos with their iPhones and cameras.

“Does anyone even care?” sniffed one man as he glanced at her. “And where is her mother?”

Not sure Dina would have helped the situation that soon ensued when Lohan finally got wind of the people taking her picture. She pointed her finger at one man as she stood up on the booth’s seat, walking closer to him. When he backed away, leaving only the booth’s barrier between them, she grabbed her drink and threw it at him, just missing him as it hit the ground.

Guess she got the diva portion of the dress code right, though not the class part.

Photos: Billy Farrell Agency