In a week when Gucci apologized for a balaclava sweater that evoked blackface, and Virginia’s governor and attorney general admitted to wearing blackface, Alexander Wang threw a fashion week party at the Rainbow Room.
The theme was “Big Trouble in Little China(town),” and the dress code was chinoiserie. What could possibly go wrong?
Guests arrived on Saturday wearing Chinese silk dressing gowns over street clothes. It was hard not to wonder what Jeremy Lam, an activist who criticized a white teenager on Twitter for wearing a cheongsam to prom last year, would have made of the spectacle.
By 11:30 p.m. the room, decorated with red paper lanterns and a dragon, was a veritable United Nations of cultural appropriation. Black, Asian and white partygoers in a mix of hip-hop street wear and Chinese silk tunics, some with chopsticks in their hair, danced to performances by Tommy Genesis, City Girls, Trina and ASAP Ferg.
Mr. Wang himself came across as a hip-hop goth. His long, well-conditioned hair tumbled over a billowing black shirt and pants, accented by two gold chains.
“We threw this party together one week ago, because we thought New York Fashion Week needed a little spice,” he said, before handing out red Lunar New Year envelopes stuffed with dollar bills to a cheering crowd that included Kaia Gerber, Ansel Elgort, Joan Smalls and Selah Marley.
By midnight, there were non-Asian women in cheongsams, followed by, uh oh, white guys in bamboo coolie hats. One of the men punctured a rice-paper screen with mock kung fu strikes. He then lifted the model Jacquelyn Jablonski, apparently intending to emulate Chinese acrobats, before dropping her on her face.
Ms. Jablonski stuffed a precautionary paper napkin into her nostril and rushed to a mirror to evaluate the damage. Fortunately she was unscarred, no face-covering balaclava sweater required.
Where Is Kanye?
Two years ago, Mr. Wang took to Instagram to accuse Philipp Plein, the maximalist designer, of copying the staging concept of one of his fashion shows.
Mr. Plein presented again on Monday night, but this time he had bigger worries. The concept called for a three-course “dinner show” at the Pool and the Grill, with a performance by Kanye West. But it turns out, Mr. Plein’s team had been misled and Mr. West would not be singing for his supper.
Nevertheless, the show — a double bill of Mr. Plein’s namesake line and Billionaire, a label he acquired in 2016 — went on. Guests included Bella Thorne, the actress; EJ Johnson and Jonathan Cheban, the reality television personalities; and Billy Porter, the Broadway star.
Billionaire went first, after the endive salad. Two dozen male models with silver hair and beards marched between tables in variations on green jackets, many the color of money in a Scrooge McDuck cartoon.
Rounding out the parade of sugar daddies was Mickey Rourke, the actor, clutching his Pomeranian, Igor. “I’ve known the Billionaire people for years, and it was a line I always liked,” he said. “It’s not conservative, it’s not too weird. It’s just rock ’n’ roll.”
The Philipp Plein collection followed the branzino course. With bulky sportswear coats over shirts of acid yellow and black, the models looked as if they were heading to post-apocalypse hockey practice: “Mad Max” meets “The Mighty Ducks.” Celebrity models included the teen-idol musicians Charlie Puth, Austin Mahone and Luke Hemmings.
The final person to walk was Lil Pump, an 18-year-old rapper from Miami who was wrangled to replace Mr. West. He was dressed in a riot of clashing green-and-black tartan and animal print, a signature of the collection, his set was every bit as raucous as the clothes.
After the performance, Mr. Plein joined Paris Hilton, Carine Roitfeld and her daughter, Julia Restoin Roitfeld, in a V.I.P. area in the dining room. The swell of photographers and guests became so intense that their table resembled “Raft of the Medusa,” with the Roitfelds hanging onto each other for dear life.
Mr. Plein extended a hand to Ms. Hilton, who had been pinned in the middle of a banquette, and she stepped across the table to freedom.
