As Fashion Week Continues, The Funny Hats March On!

DAHLINGS -

I could kill that idiot of an assistant of mine! I send her my notes from my Blackberry, and the fool DELETES two of the shows I attended on Thursday!

Bad enough that she made utter HASH of the names Badgley Mishka, but then to ERASE my deathless impressions of Stephen Burrows and Miss Sixty! She knew enough to be nowhere in sight when I reeled in on Thursday night after the after-party at Fashion Rocks. (Note: Carrie Underwood again displayed the common touch, which seems to be her strong suit.)



Miss Sixty displayed utterly ridiculous acid-washed jeans, low-waisted and short. Only the Olsen twins could pull them off, and that is being charitable. The hats were, for the most part, large-brimmed and transparent. Really, the only redeeming feature were the enormous envelope clutch bags.

I much preferred the Burrows show, if only because I love bright colors and I needed some cheering up. The dresses were lively and sweet, and more important; there wasn’t a hat to be seen!

Naturally I had written much more, but it is all GONE.

And my assistant was not in the office yet when I set out this morning. DAMN!

Nevertheless, I bundled up Bucky in his hand-made Dooney & Bourke carrier and hopped into the limo. This year, perhaps to make up for the starved appearance of the models, there are abundant sweet treats everywhere. The models merely stare at them, a little drool escaping their pale lips. And most of the fashion industry folk look as though—how do I describe it? —as if they are looking at the opposite of crystal meth. But I’ve been thoroughly enjoying myself. Too bad poor little Bucky cannot have chocolate…but he did get a praline or two.

Behnaz Sarafpour seems to have gotten back onto her medication. Which has also had the effect of dulling whatever creative faculties she possessed. Dozens of dull identical shirtwaist silhouettes, although she had her own contribution of the Fashion Week 2008 theme: funny hats.




Max Azaria’s show was quite nice if you like lingerie, and I do, but I could not quite imagine it as daywear. Although the heterosexual men in the audience, what few there were, seemed to be able to. As I watched the models march down the pink runway to the tune of "I Like to Play," their expressions numb with misery, the thought came to mind: "Would it kill them to smile?"

Perhaps it would. Perhaps they would simultaneously combust or some such.

The major commotion at the show was caused by celebrity void Nicole Richie, who, it is rumored, is pregnant and has what is now tastelessly called a “bump” showing. If indeed this gaunt attention addict is pregnant, we can expect some very special attention at the preemie ward at Lenox Hill hospital.

Meanwhile, Demi Moore was at the Proenza Schouler show at the Armory, surrounded by bodyguards and looking astonishingly wide-eyed at close range. (In fact, one is not sure she can actually blink.) My revered Anna Wintour was there, in what appeared to be a vintage dress! Oh, be still, my heart!

I am not a fan of this design team, and their choice of layered vests over various...things was only redeemed by the funny hat of choice for this show: tall military helmets with feathers. (Yes, one can quite imagine the fashionable young things at luncheon getting their helmets caught in the chandeliers and hanging plants.)



Ciao for now,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Bill Blass Goes Ebay: Fashion Week, Day Two

DAHLINGS -

Mon dieu, those after-parties can leave a female with quite the hangover!

Not to mention strangers in the bed, but I got rid of them with dispatch.

Because I was bound and determined to get to the Miss Sixty show, so I could at least smell Clive Owen. It was all the way down on the Bowery! Demi Moore, she of the liposuctioned knees, was there as well.

I left early to make the Bill Blass show at the New York Library. That was a mistake. Last fall the library was a wintery cavern, but this morning, because of the weather, the lights and the cameras, it was a bit stuffy. Like many of the attendees. I wore a light and airy maxi-dress from the mid-1970s, in yellow, to match the large Toblerone I was carrying.

Micheal Vollbracht has left Bill Blass, and so three ‘interim’ designers did the show. Thank goodness they are ‘interim,’ because the term ‘plagiarists’ would have suited them far better. Prabal Gurung, Ana Carolina Coelho, and Tyler Rose claimed to have gone into the designer’s archives and been inspired.

But the collection reminded moi of nothing so much as our great nation’s Internet flea market, Ebay. Really, doesn’t this look like every other strapless bridal gown out there today?



And although much of Ebay’s Vintage collection is outstanding (including, of course, mine), there are dozens of variations on what is called 'the secretary dress.'



In fact, many, many of the dresses at the library I saw could be found on Ebay, some of them by Bill Blass himself. However, one cannot imagine many of the socialites in attendance knowing enough about how to use a computer to actually take a look for themselves. So you will have to trust me on this.

The Badgley Mischka show in the Tent was far more satisfying, but then, evening gowns do something to a woman. To this woman, at any rate. And there were a plethora of evening gowns, many almost stupefyingly delightful.



Apparently the actress Teri Hatcher is the pair's muse. (Although this frock would look far better on moi--I have some flesh on my bones, and I don't dye my skin.)

She was in attendance, in a silver dress and spray-on tan. As was Kenneth Cole, Ivana Trump once again with her young charge, and many others of Ivana's social set. At times when they applauded, their jewelry rattled louder than their palms.

The funny hat factor was limited to a few huge floppy straws that bounced as the models strutted down the runway. Having changed my outfit between shows, I changed my sweets as well. As is my wont, I sat in the front row, munching on a large box of Godiva chocolates. (I always love the looks on the models’ faces when they first smell the chocolate—it reminds me of Bucky when he smells a far-away fire hydrant redolent of other dogs. Yearning, don’t you know.)

More later, mes enfants—it’s back to the limo and into another outfit! Dear me, I am getting quite the sugar buzz.

Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog