Just when I wasn’t looking, Fashion Week Fall 2008 crept up on me! Yes, I know I have simply STACKS of invitations on my desk that my moronic assistant didn’t bother answering (or even tell me about). It was with horror that I awoke this morning in my silk-sheeted bed, Bucky nestled beside me, and realized that Fashion Week started TWO DAYS AGO!
Wait until that assistant comes in tomorrow…I’m going to make her life a living hell, let me tell you.
The most I can do for now is give you my impressions from looking over the shows on the Internet…a poor substitute, I know, but better than no coverage at all, n’cest pas?
First, that continuing blight on the fashion landscape, Yigal Azrouel, who can always be counted to present a large collection of boring, sexless fashion. Suddenly, the designs on “Project Runway” seem like works of GENIUS. He continued with his strange brand of scruffy androgyny:
I thank the Gods that be that I was not in attendance. I might have pelted the models with chocolate-covered cherries, and started a stampede (that got me ejected from the Erin Fetherston show a few years back).
For her show this year, Nicole Miller claimed to have been inspired by Joan of Arc. (That's Jeanne d'Arc to those of us who parle Francais.) One supposes there are worse inspirations than a hallucinating religious maniac who hears voices and ends up getting killed at the age of nineteen. Actually, that profile would fit quite a few modern pop singers, wouldn't it? It was a nice show, but not one of her best; in fact, one has a rather hard time connecting this puffer jacket gone wild with Catholicism:
Tonight we close with a rather frightening image from the Alexander Wang show. As much as I may rail in this blog against the terrifyingly thin models that stagger down the runways, it seems that nothing will stop the shrinking. Today when I at last arrived at Bryant Park, there were the usual paramedics armed with Ensure, cocaine and dextroamphetamine. The show must go on.
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog