Karlie Kloss’s Birthday Party
by Jeremy Allen | photographed by Taylor Jewell
The fashion industry has a funny way of tampering with one’s sense of time: Collections are presented six months before hitting stores, and trends of decades past are dusted off and repackaged as next year’s novelties. Which might explain why Karlie Kloss, she of the mile-long legs and deceivingly cherubic countenance, was having a bit of trouble reconciling her own chronology on Thursday night: “I feel like I’m 20 going on 45—or 95,” she laughed as the sleek confines of the newly refurbished Paramount Hotel began filling up with well-wishers for her 21st—yes, 21st—birthday. “I started this career in fashion when I was fourteen years old, and it’s gone by in a”—snap—“flash.” A pause. “It’s funny because I’ve already been able to travel the world and buy my own home, but only now can I finally have a drink!” Not so fast. In a dash of crimson Dolce, she was off to greet the entire Kloss clan (dad Kurt, mother Tracy, and sisters Kariann, Kristine, and Kimberly), nearly seven feet tall in her towering Louboutins. “I must say, this whole thing was a surprise,” Mrs. Kloss chuckled, her eyes darting from Calvin Klein Collection’s Francisco Costa, to Prabal Gurung, to Lauren Santo Domingo, to fellow St. Louis native (and the evening’s host) Derek Blasberg. “But when Karlie puts her mind to something, she does it one thousand percent. She’s golden.” Costa, watching the sylphlike model make the rounds, shook his head in awe. “I knew her from the beginning—she was my exclusive,” he reminisced. “She was not the star she is now. In fact, she was so nervous back then. And now this is happening. Just look at her.”
Indeed, guests couldn’t stop doing just that—even Emma Watson, commanding in a cream Osman crop top and L’Agence skirt, was captivated. “How do I know Karlie? Because she’s sweet and lovely. She’s even interviewed me a few times!” The Bling Ring star practically gushed, eyeing Kloss from a banquette the way most people, one guesses, eye the actress. Watson would share the dance floor with Kloss later. As would models Cara Delevingne, Joan Smalls, and Jourdan Dunn, a preternatural pack if ever there was one, swaying to the summer’s can’t-miss-em hits (“Blurred Lines,” anyone?) in a tangle of skinny jeans and leather jackets. Watching Kloss stoop down three feet to give each and every new guest her undivided attention, Harry Brant (himself turning a staggering seventeen today) sighed. “She’s the perfect St. Louis girl—it almost makes me nauseous,” he said without missing a beat. “It’s always the nicest models that are the best.”
At 10:30 p.m., the music paused for a rousing rendition of “Happy Birthday” and servings of Momofuku’s famous funfetti cake, and then everyone quickly returned to the dance floor. Sure enough, the Klosses were still on hand, sipping champagne and marveling at all that had transpired in the past six years. “Karlie used to be afraid of missing school,” Mrs. Kloss confided. “And I’d say, ‘Look around. This is your school.’ And now this”—she swept her arm across the room—“Is also her family.” Happy birthday, Karlie.
