EDITOR'S NOTE: BiZBash is pleased to introduce a new correspondent: Ted Kruckel, the experienced—and opinionated—event and PR pro who ran events for high-profile clients like Vanity Fair, Elle Decor, Christian Dior and Carolina Herrera, before he shuttered his firm, Ted Inc., earlier this year. Here's his first dispatch for us:
What makes an event truly great? If you're looking for a laundry list, don't ask me, because after producing and peopling events for almost 20 years, I admit it's hard to predict. But if it's an annual event, one usually reliable barometer is how good it has been in the past. Guests who have attended in past years arrive with a certain sense of expectation, good or bad, that I think makes up about 70 percent of how they'll judge the current one.
So I arrived with curiosity at the New York City Ballet's Dance With the Dancers benefit at the New York State Theater. I have attended a number of times before, served on the committee and even helped scrounge up gift bag items, so I came with my own pre-judgment. Two years ago, my then-new friend Rena Sindi chaired the event and whipped up an Arabian nights theme. Ballet lovers swirled with finger bells, tandoori scents wafted though the air and around 10:30 PM—when the room usually starts to clear—a rainstorm prevented everyone from leaving and the house stayed packed with wild dancing well after midnight. I told anyone who asked it was the party of the season. The next year my friend Alexandra Golinkin, the sleek and sexy publisher of Lucky magazine, did the co-chair honors for, as I recall, a "diamonds-and-danger" kind of night, complete with a jewelry sponsor and a 30's gambling motif. But the weather was perfect, 9/11 hung in the air, and everyone went home on time.
This year, the call was for Studio 54 dress and disco behavior, and my date was Muffie Potter Aston, whose husband Sherrell was operating the next morning. Arrivals were nothing special (for $500, I like a formidable army of greeters that assures no one is slipping in for free). As often happens since I'm "in the biz" I was handed a 24-page seating list, and we made our way to the balcony. At the bar, the tenders wore only baby blue cotton undershorts with navy piping that left nothing to the imagination, except where they came from: Each boy's behind said "City Club Hotel."
Who was there? It was a New York crowd, many of them dressed in appropriate 70's outfits: Nina Griscom (who has chaired more NYCB benefits than anyone I know), Candace Bushnell, MAC's John Demsey. Michael Kors had fun in 70's shades. Cynthia Rowley and New York's Marc Malkin arrived in matching red afro wigs.
But this is supposed to be a professional review of the event, so let's get to it: The d?cor, by Bronson van Wyck of Van Wyck & Van Wyck (the other VW is his mum, I gather) was, well, nothing to write home about. Red votives surrounded glass cylinders filled with water on each table with floating candles and the obligatory floating flora. To be fair, it looked fine and not too expensive (which matters for a charity). But for a disco theme I guess I was expecting Lucite and mirror balls. The designers say their plan to have giant mirror disco balls was impractical (too heavy), so they settled for weather balloons with disco ball projections. I did balloons with projections once for Christian Dior, executed magnificently by the incomparable Bentley Meeker. I thought this effort by Ultravision's Travis Bass fell short—they just didn't catch your eye. The other lighting was professionally done, with follow-spots doing their job (at one point they fixed on a worker on an upper level getting into the groove, which the crowd loved).
The food—by Glorious Food, of course—was fried chicken, tasty but served on the bone, which is an event no-no for me. No one at my table touched the mashed potatoes. The wine was served "butler style," which means there is no butler. They leave it for you to pour, which I don't object to if the white is on ice and the red has a napkin wound tightly around the bottle for pourers who don't know the turn-the-bottle trick. That was not the case here.
The service, however, was very good. When a woman at my table asked for a napkin it arrived in less than a minute, and then the waiter asked if anyone needed anything. I can count on one hand how many times I remember that simple courtesy being proffered at a gala, and I have been to some parties. Later at the bar, there was a shortage of red wine, so the bartenders ran to salvage unused table bottles quickly and successfully.
Music, of course, can cover all sins, and with Tom Finn you rarely go wrong. Robert Isabell told me about Tom a long time ago and he never disappoints, although there was one music gap before dinner.
The musical moment with Deborah Harry, however, must be dissed. Every year the NYCB dancers do a moment at the benefit; this year they snaked and twirled around her like there was no tomorrow, but her uneven warbling sent me out of the room. I'm an older fella who saw Blondie at CBGB's and Central Park when I was in high school. She couldn't sing on key then, and time has not helped.
After the skit, the dancers were rewarded with a shower of big plastic confetti squares and tiny glitter. When you use confetti, you should go big, and they did.
Next, the chairs took the stage to dole out door prizes, which took way too long. But fear not, Tom was back spinning uninterrupted again and the party took off.
I guess you could say they got lucky. In all honesty, little of what the event organizers did really blew my hair back, but I'll go again. And when it comes to fund-raisers, isn't that all you really need?
—Ted Kruckel
What makes an event truly great? If you're looking for a laundry list, don't ask me, because after producing and peopling events for almost 20 years, I admit it's hard to predict. But if it's an annual event, one usually reliable barometer is how good it has been in the past. Guests who have attended in past years arrive with a certain sense of expectation, good or bad, that I think makes up about 70 percent of how they'll judge the current one.
So I arrived with curiosity at the New York City Ballet's Dance With the Dancers benefit at the New York State Theater. I have attended a number of times before, served on the committee and even helped scrounge up gift bag items, so I came with my own pre-judgment. Two years ago, my then-new friend Rena Sindi chaired the event and whipped up an Arabian nights theme. Ballet lovers swirled with finger bells, tandoori scents wafted though the air and around 10:30 PM—when the room usually starts to clear—a rainstorm prevented everyone from leaving and the house stayed packed with wild dancing well after midnight. I told anyone who asked it was the party of the season. The next year my friend Alexandra Golinkin, the sleek and sexy publisher of Lucky magazine, did the co-chair honors for, as I recall, a "diamonds-and-danger" kind of night, complete with a jewelry sponsor and a 30's gambling motif. But the weather was perfect, 9/11 hung in the air, and everyone went home on time.
This year, the call was for Studio 54 dress and disco behavior, and my date was Muffie Potter Aston, whose husband Sherrell was operating the next morning. Arrivals were nothing special (for $500, I like a formidable army of greeters that assures no one is slipping in for free). As often happens since I'm "in the biz" I was handed a 24-page seating list, and we made our way to the balcony. At the bar, the tenders wore only baby blue cotton undershorts with navy piping that left nothing to the imagination, except where they came from: Each boy's behind said "City Club Hotel."
Who was there? It was a New York crowd, many of them dressed in appropriate 70's outfits: Nina Griscom (who has chaired more NYCB benefits than anyone I know), Candace Bushnell, MAC's John Demsey. Michael Kors had fun in 70's shades. Cynthia Rowley and New York's Marc Malkin arrived in matching red afro wigs.
But this is supposed to be a professional review of the event, so let's get to it: The d?cor, by Bronson van Wyck of Van Wyck & Van Wyck (the other VW is his mum, I gather) was, well, nothing to write home about. Red votives surrounded glass cylinders filled with water on each table with floating candles and the obligatory floating flora. To be fair, it looked fine and not too expensive (which matters for a charity). But for a disco theme I guess I was expecting Lucite and mirror balls. The designers say their plan to have giant mirror disco balls was impractical (too heavy), so they settled for weather balloons with disco ball projections. I did balloons with projections once for Christian Dior, executed magnificently by the incomparable Bentley Meeker. I thought this effort by Ultravision's Travis Bass fell short—they just didn't catch your eye. The other lighting was professionally done, with follow-spots doing their job (at one point they fixed on a worker on an upper level getting into the groove, which the crowd loved).
The food—by Glorious Food, of course—was fried chicken, tasty but served on the bone, which is an event no-no for me. No one at my table touched the mashed potatoes. The wine was served "butler style," which means there is no butler. They leave it for you to pour, which I don't object to if the white is on ice and the red has a napkin wound tightly around the bottle for pourers who don't know the turn-the-bottle trick. That was not the case here.
The service, however, was very good. When a woman at my table asked for a napkin it arrived in less than a minute, and then the waiter asked if anyone needed anything. I can count on one hand how many times I remember that simple courtesy being proffered at a gala, and I have been to some parties. Later at the bar, there was a shortage of red wine, so the bartenders ran to salvage unused table bottles quickly and successfully.
Music, of course, can cover all sins, and with Tom Finn you rarely go wrong. Robert Isabell told me about Tom a long time ago and he never disappoints, although there was one music gap before dinner.
The musical moment with Deborah Harry, however, must be dissed. Every year the NYCB dancers do a moment at the benefit; this year they snaked and twirled around her like there was no tomorrow, but her uneven warbling sent me out of the room. I'm an older fella who saw Blondie at CBGB's and Central Park when I was in high school. She couldn't sing on key then, and time has not helped.
After the skit, the dancers were rewarded with a shower of big plastic confetti squares and tiny glitter. When you use confetti, you should go big, and they did.
Next, the chairs took the stage to dole out door prizes, which took way too long. But fear not, Tom was back spinning uninterrupted again and the party took off.
I guess you could say they got lucky. In all honesty, little of what the event organizers did really blew my hair back, but I'll go again. And when it comes to fund-raisers, isn't that all you really need?
—Ted Kruckel