Sunday night- I'm lying in my tiny artsy hotel room, surrounded by a mass of books, shopping bags from 4 countries, clothing, and fashion week freebies (how I love The Daily and WWD!). Genuinely cringeworthy karaoke "music" is filtering in through the open window from the bar across the street. It reminds me of that scene in Bridget Jones Diary where she is sloshed at an office Xmas party and gets carried away with the karaoke machine.
So... I will take this moment to reflect on my first two days of New York Fashion Week.
Friday was a wild buzz. Press registration, followed by hours scoping out the tents, media room, shows, and masses of well dressed people. Bryant Park is beautiful... an elevated space elegantly landscaped with terrace stones, trees, chairs for peoplewatching or reading in, and an outdoor cafe reminiscent of Paris. There are a few celebrities at the main entrance (where a crowd of people is always waiting to see who steps out of the black limos) and then later in the tents. They stand out only because tens of sweating camera men and fashion reporters surround them, taking photos and asking redundant questions. Much more interesting are the models, and lucky for me they are everywhere. Obviously straight off the plane from another part of the world, they zip around with a black portfolio under one arm, and oversized tote on the other.
Most of the attendees seem to be socialites and magazine staff. There is the odd "ingenue", some of whom I am sure will be gracing the pages of upcoming fashion magazines as 'trendsetter for fall'. They wear imminently covetable ensembles that seem to fall into two categories... Sweet: slip dress, small Chanel or Marni shoulder bag, Chloe footwear, and long hair that is either tucked back with one bobby pin or flies around (a la Carine) in their face. The alternative is a little edgier: black tunic type top, stirrup stockings or tights, and black pumps or wedges by YSL/Balenciaga/Lanvin. There was one Valentine Fillol-Cordier look alike who wore wide leg, high waisted overalls over a tight stripey T. She also had the requisite quilted clutch.
The MJ "bodybag" tote is a big hit here too. The women who carry it look like they could crawl comfortably inside of it for a kip between shows. Fan of oversized totes though I am, these remind me too much of the real body bags I saw while observing at the Toronto morgue. Can't quite envision carrying my dailies around in them...
In the late afternoon, I took off to see the Garment District (walking behind Caroline Trentini part of the way) and lower Fifth Avenue, and then collapsed into my little room, falling asleep to the honking of car horns and squabbling Spanish couple next door.
Saturday- I took the day off from the tents and met up with a friend, T, to explore the galleries of wearable art on Fifth Avenue (Saks, Bergdorf Goodman et al). We circled the floors, quietly oohing and aahing over each exquisite piece we came across. I won't even discuss the shoe floor... the fall boots are in, and needless to say, it was torturous to leave without a pair of black Pradas, or purple Pedro Garcia booties. One day!
I did manage to find a silk dress on sale from favourite contemporary label theory, and T considered a long cashmere sweater by Karoo that she has long been lusting after.
Shopping (or worshipping really!) was followed by sushi, and then we trekked down to Central Station for T to catch her train... all in all, a day fashionably spent!