Matty steps out first and I'm right behind him. Morton's restaurant has been transformed into a Vanity Fair ad. The magazine's logo is up in yellow lights above the white building and there is also a thirty-foot high myrtle topiary sculpture. People dressed in black are everywhere, and I can see the magazine's editor-in-chief, Graydon Carter, way up ahead near the door, situated next to someone with a clipboard checking off names. Before we can even get to the door, we have to do the long red carpet.

"KAITLIN! KAITLIN, LOOK OVER HERE!"

"HEY, KAITLIN, IS THAT YOUR BOYFRIEND?"

"THAT'S HER BROTHER!"

"IS THAT KAITLIN'S BRO? YO, LOOK THIS WAY!"

"KAITLIN BURKE! TURN THIS WAY! NOW OVER HERE!"

"LET'S GET ONE OF YOU TOGETHER!"

"NOW KAITLIN ALONE!"

"Wow, that was intense," Matty whispers after we've made it through the line, greeted Vanity Fair's editor-in-chief and the magazine's owner, and slipped inside.

Morton's in West Hollywood has been home to the Vanity Fair party for over a decade now (well, except for that year there was a writer's strike, but there was no bash that year anyway). Matty and I are attending the dinner party, which about 150 people are invited to and starts at 5 PM. It takes place during the awards, which you can watch on large screens. After the show wraps, the major mingling begins. The after-party is in a large tent behind the restaurant. It can hold up to 800 revelers. With a Hollywood crowd that big, I'm told you can run into almost anyone your heart can imagine -- from old Hollywood, like Martin Landau, to politicians, athletes, and rock stars. You might find Kid Rock in a corner talking to Larry King. How weird is that?

A cluster of tables is set up with table numbers and Matty and I nervously make our way to ours. I know the guests have been carefully arranged to avoid any major drama. In years past, there have been a few scuffles, drinks thrown, and people tossed. The last thing I want is to get into a melee and get bounced from VF on my first year in. I've heard there's actually a list of major stars that have never been asked back to the party because they've behaved badly or been rude to the wait staff. Yikes.

I look around. The tables are sparsely decorated with white cloths, tiny lamps, and cherry brandy roses. Cookies stenciled with the image of VF's annual Young Hollywood cover are on the table, as well as covers dating back to the 1920s. My one publicity goal is to make the Young Hollywood cover. It's a who's who of hotness. They've had the occasional TV star, but it's usually girls with major up-and-coming film careers that are featured.