Invitations You Can’t Refuse

Moments before my daughter’s birthday party is set to begin, Marc Friedland returns my call. We’re supposed to chat about his new book, “Invitations” (Clarkson Potter), but as I pick up the phone, I hear a second-grader skipping up the driveway. “Can’t talk,” I gasp. “Seven-year-olds. Twenty-three of them.”

Friedland senses my fear. “Remember to breathe,” he coos calmly into my ear. “Breeeathe.”

This kind of social CPR is quintessential Friedland, who, before turning his considerable energies to making drop-dead gorgeous invitations for L.A.’s social elite, studied public health at UCLA. The leap from would-be doctor to invitation doyen is not so big as one might think. Each requires a soothing bedside manner, the 38-year-old says.

Friedland’s splashy book, a pictorial retrospective of a dozen years’ work, suggests that the famous and very rich do have more fun. One featured sample--a velvet box containing a handmade masquerade mask--invites guests on an all-expense-paid trip to Venice, Italy. And a birth announcement commissioned by actress-writer Carrie Fisher reads: “Someone summered in my stomach. Someone’s fallen through my legs. To make an infant omelet, simply scramble sperm and eggs.”

Friedland originals, assembled by worker bees in his Los Angeles studio, can cost thousands, but he also designs pret-a-porter stationery, sold at Neiman Marcus. One downside of his one-of-a-kind creations, of course, is that they raise expectations. “Yes,” Friedland admits, “I have heard of people saying the invitation was better than the party itself.”