Fatigue Sets In At Fashion Week 2009...

DAHLINGS –

Because of my evening at the New York Reality Television School, I missed the ho-hum Halston collection. No great loss, as my friends at the Bryant Park Hotel told me when I stopped by the Zimmerman Spring Preview.

But I did manage to take in three earlier shows (although how anyone expects an important, busy woman to get up at dawn to attend a 9 AM collection, no matter by whom, baffles me).

Speaking of ho-hum, my day started with the Monique Lhuillier show in the promenade. Maybe it was fashion fatigue setting in, but this collection seemed dull, derivative and uninspired, even if many of the fabrics were lovely. This poor model was absolutely wall-eyed with exhaustion and hunger.



As she passed , I was nibbling on a chocolate croissant, and for a second I feared she was going to attack me, as Natasha Poly had a few seasons back. Fortunately, as always during Fashion Week, there were paramedics stationed at perimeter points armed with Ensure, cigarettes, and crystal meth.

But back on topic, haven’t you seen varations of this dress in catalogs a hundred times?




Next, it was over to the Betsey Johnson show, where I was quite pleasantly surprised. Ms. Johnson and I do not have the same style sense by any means. But this collection was a delightful campy romp, and there were giant cupcakes for all of us in the front row! The big-little-girl dresses and adorable wigs brought back strong memories of my childhood. Particularly since dear, darling Mama forced me to pretend to be eleven years old for ten years.




As Maurice Chevalier sang, "Ah, yes, I remember it well." By the time she allowed me to turn twelve, I was far more zaftig than any of these models, I can tell you that. Ms. Johnson herself astonished me by coming out looking quite chic before she did her trademark cartwheel.



The final show I had time to attend was Dennis Basso, who obviously does not believe personally in the gaunt aesthetic he promotes. Basso profundo, indeed! More like Basso gigundo.



My idol Anna Wintour was in attendance, as was Nina Garcia of "Project Runway," and a galaxy of socialites. Basso's clothes were lovely, but could any model have looked more miserable than Cecilia Mendez?



It made for a bit of cognitive dissonance. However, I made a note to order this stunner for myself. Imagine it with a real body inside!



Oh, damn, I hear whining from the bedroom, and Bucky is curled up at my feet. It must be my assistant. She gets SO confused at the simplest instructions; all she has to do is lay out my five outfits for tomorrow, with matching shoes and jewelry! Is that so very much to ask?

Must dash –

Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Dead Fashion Models: A Modest Suggestion

DAHLINGS -

I was reading in the newspaper over the past weeks that those poor anorexic girls are dropping like flies down in Brazil. Brazil, mind, where they used to CELEBRATE the lushness of the female figure! How has society come to this? One of those hideous Olsen twins was quoted this morning as saying that it was her bad hair dye that made her look too thin. Yes, sweetie, and it was having two faces that made that calf look slightly odd. All in the eye of the beholder, don't you know.

Rather than encouraging girls to waste away and die, we should keep the dead ones, and use them. Why keep asking these poor children to starve themselves to death, when we have plenty of deceased models around?

I am fairly certain most of them come from deprived backgrounds, so the families would be happy to be saved funeral and burial costs.

Here is my plan, which is not only practical but could save dozens of young lives in the future:
1) Take one dead young female fashion model;
2) Freeze-dry her, the way people freeze-dry their dead pets, preferably in an attitude of disdain and one arm bent;
3) Lacquer the body, because it might smell under hot lights;
4) Make a runway with a sort of rolling thing, you know, like those sushi restaurants where you grab the little trays off of the rotating circle thing;

And voila!

An entire fashion show of unliving fashion models, just the way the designers want them. Gaunt, bereft of female flesh, and of course, expressionless. If the designer wants the illusion of living, he can paint the faces in gaudy colors and use a wind machine.

Or--

Fashion designers and the fashion industry in general could promote a healthy ideal of female beauty, one that celebrates fleshiness, the slight rounding of the female stomach, a plump elbow, perhaps even the unthinkable...breasts, hips, and thighs. Girls who look like young WOMEN, not starvation victims. Girls who feel GOOD about their bodies, no matter what the shape, no matter what the size, because wherever they look they can find a role model.

I admit, I do not see it happening in my lifetime. But it is something to dream about...

Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog