Last night, we braved the brisk autumn air for a downtown jaunt to Skylight (Hudson, between Broome and Spring) where we mingled with pretentious artsy types who feigned interest in everything from the high-ceilinged loft space to the delectable hors d’eouvres in order to give the (false) impression that they were there for some reason other than to pick up their complimentary Microsoft Zune.

And despite the fact that (a) most of the event’s attendees looked like extras from the set of “Rent,” (b) we overheard someone in line for the bar complain, “My stylist told me I have a small forehead!” and (c) a girl wearing a tin-foil colored hat had the audacity to audibly ridicule our plus-one’s rather innocuous ballet flats, we actually managed to have ourselves a pretty good time.

The highlight of the evening? That would be a tie between the amazing original artwork, the delectable lemon meringue tartines and the realization that all the partygoers fit into one of two categories: out of place media types (like ourselves!) and grown-up versions of the bitchy, artsy girls from high school (the ones who totally could have been pretty if they didn’t spend so much time actively trying to make themselves look weird). A realization that was, incidentally, cemented later in the evening when we recognized one of our fellow guests as actually being the weird, artsy girl from our high school.

For those who are interested, our former high school acquaintance—which is to say, the person who frightened us into avoiding the second-floor women’s lavatory—looked almost exactly as we remembered her (think Rachel Bilson meets Wednesday Adams). Thankfully, we were relieved to see that she was no longer rocking the pierced septum that she had rebelliously acquired just in time for senior yearbook pictures.

[Image via Paper]