William Forsythe and Lisa Blumenthal at the Boston Ballet Ball
The gowns. The jewels. The hairdos. The air-kissing.
As the first major black-tie hoo-ha of the year, the Boston Ballet Ball never fails to enchant, and this year was certainly no exception.
Held at the Castle at Park Plaza, An Evening Celebrating Forsythe honored the world-famous choreographer, who was front and center, along with artistic director Mikko Nissinen and executive director Max Hodges, glad-handing donors and dyed-in-the-wool balletomanes such as co-chairs Charles Carignan and Michael Cerruti, board chair Jack Meyer, uber-philanthropists Eleanor and Frank Pao, the flawless Nina Fialkow, a whole passel of Humphreys, including Pam and John, ballroom dancer and equestrienne Diana Rockefeller, one-woman Mardi Gras Susan Poduska and the debonair Bill, junior socialites Alex and Lianne Leventhal, real estate mack daddy John Ruggieri and his husband, principal dancer John Lam, Persian painter Susie Bonakdapour and the dashing Majid, design avatar Rich Cobb, the toothsome twosome of EJ Zhang and Vlad Prokopov, Greek goddess Diana Reza, yummy mummy Samantha
Hansman, tall drink o’ water Peter Donohoe and the sylphlike Sharon Chirban, opera star Yelena Dudochkin-Berry and her super-genius other half, David, a surprising number of profoundly pregnant women and one person who wondered why it was the eggplant emoji that stood for a certain part of the male anatomy, as opposed to “the hot dog, the ear of corn or the baguette?”
Post-cocktails, an exquisite dinner was accompanied by breathtaking performances of Forsythe’s work, followed by a ballers-only live auction and dancing well into the wee hours.
Graham Johns and Patrick Yocum at the Boston Ballet Ball
Michael Cerruti, Mikko Nissinen and Charles Carignan at the Boston Ballet Ball
Margot Davis and Jonathan Davis at the Boston Ballet Ball
The Boo-Hoo Award for First World Problems went to the woman whose husband couldn’t make it because his jet broke down and then his backup jet broke down, too.
“I should be roped off with yellow-tape,” admitted one guest, adding, “Definitely the sign of a good party!”
However, the evening’s best comment was: “Just using the word ‘scuttlebutt’ means you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” ◆
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