A New York Fashion Week Thank You...

DAHLINGS -

Most of my staff may be total incompetents, but the people "behind the scenes" at Mercedes Benz Fashion Week have made many things infinitely more tolerable to your faithful correspondent. And so before I go on to review more shows or try to write something philosophical about The State Of Fashion today, I wish to thank those, shall we say, little people who grease the wheels of the mighty engine of MCFW.

1) The IMG press office. Despite being continuously deluged and frantic in their small outdoor cubicle, they consented to my bringing an assistant, were always polite and patient with my many requests, and remained unflappable in the face of hysterical reporters and photographers. And somehow found the time to send out media alerts every day. I can barely keep up with this blog-thing, heaven knows how they do it.

2) Citadel, the security staff. These handsome gentlemen (and a few women) turned out to be very pleasant company while one waited in the endless lines. Some of the men have to stand for more than 12 hours a day. If I had to do that and deal with the continual parade of lunatics who attend Fashion Week, I would probably bring a machete in my purse. Or Bucky, who could inflict just as much damage with his razor-sharp teeth. Plus, they are quite easy on the eyes.

3) McCafe. Ordinarily I would not set my high-heeled foot in a McDonald's. Too many of the great unwashed, you know. However, their coffee bar was a lifesaver! Especially when I asked for an iced mocha with an expresso shot and whipped cream! Those caffeine and sugar bombs kept me going for hours on end.

4) The Lu Biscuit girls. These beautiful young girls, mostly aspiring actresses, were always amusing to converse with. Intentionally, I mean. Highly observant and intelligent, and they gave one chocolate biscuits! What more could one ask?

5) Fern Mallis and Lynn Yaeger, for reasons they will understand.




















Fern Mallis

6) The technical crew, who kept the tents from collapsing on all of us, or the floors from collapsing underneath us. (Imagine the huge piles of fashionistas screaming "Don't you know who I am?" at the rescue crews.) Plus, they were good looking men, and you know how I feel about that.















(Hubba hubba)

7) The Information Desk Staff. Not only did they give me scads of reading material, they tried to help me when:

Un Grand Merci Not You To:

The French documentary crew who had me rush to Bryant Park at noon for an interview, only to stand moi up! Now you know why so many people do not like the French. And the phone number they gave me was in France! For almost an hour, the staff at the IMG Information Desk tried to help me dial the number, to no avail. Je crache sur les producteurs de documentaires français de films.

Off to the tents - more later, dahlings!

Ciao,
Elisa and Bucky the Still Sulking Wonderdog

Fashion Week Fall 2009 Trims The Fat But Not The Big Macs!

DAHLINGS –

What a week, vénérable mes lecteurs, what a week! On Wednesday your faithful correspondent attended a luncheon at Bergdorf Goodman (one of my beloved childhood department stores…dear darling Mama used to let me play at the fine jewelry counters because she knew how I cherished sparkly things).


The occasion was for the House of Dior, with several top executives there. If you have been following this blog with half an eye, you know my vast love for Dior! The lobster plates and champagne were courtesy of Dior executive Delphine Arnault-Gancia. It was attended by the typical pack of undernourished socialites and a model or two. Thank God I did not have to sit next to Tinsley Mortimer.


Photo of Delphine Arnault-Gancia and Jim Gold
copyright Patrick McMullan


(J'ai presque écrit socialistes, mais c'est le contraire, n'est-ce pas?) I wore a red velvet vintage Dior “spider hat” in honor of the occasion. Lovely how in this dreadful economy we can still look forward to the Dior Spring Line!

Speaking of the appalling economy, Fashion Week Fall 2009 has scaled back to an unprecedented level: fewer runway shows, and top designer names opting for “presentations” instead. It is something like putting live models in department store windows or something like that. They have to freeze in place for hours while fashion editors pluck at them. (cf. my post of January 26 2007 ‘Dead Brazilian Models: A Suggestion’.)

The most shocking development to your faithful correspondent was that menswear designer Duckie Brown has inked a deal with (ugh) McDonalds—speaking of places where never a model has been seen actually eating—holding the food does not count—to produce the show and have a “Mc-Cafe” backstage. So instead of snubbing the fruit bowls, the models can snub Chicken McNuggets. Well, one supposes that when you’re simply not used to ingesting food, an apple is the same thing as a Quarter Pounder With Cheese.

The star power in the front rows has also been considerably dimmed, if my experience is anything to go by. Where hast thou gone, Ashton and Demi? And why are you not missed?

Friday night I passed on the AMFAR benefit (one had quite enough of that sort of thing in Washington, thank you) to go to the actual Mercedes Benz opening party, held at Shang at the Thompson LES. Other than being extremely noisy, it was quite fun. I spotted Christian Siriano (one swears he would easily fit into Bucky’s Gucci dog carrier!).



One dearly wanted to thank the little imp for not being overly snarky on the Golden Globes Fashion Wrap-Up Show. Christian has strong opinions, but not the pure mean streak that many of the other commentators have. That might be because Christian actually has a functional talent in the real world…oh, dear, did I just write that? Mes plus sincères excuses. (Debbie Matenopolous’s dress on that show still baffles me…two, two, two necklines in one!)

Fern Mallis graciously took the stage to thank us all for being there. Things being what they are these days, she should have been grateful anyone was there. Nothing against Fern personally, of course. After all, she is the only woman who is allowed to look faintly normal at Fashion Week, presumably because it is her baby.

Photo of Fern Mallis copyright Patrick McMullan

A very loud band, The Virgins, took the stage, and I hied myself to my limo, along with a handsome waiter I’d met. I think his name might be Jose, or Julio, I can never remember these things. He was gone before daylight, which was the important thing.

There will be a great deal later, including reviews of the shows, but I have been far too busy and I must get some rest. Tomorrow: how Yigal Azrouel rocked my world, and ever so much more!

Here's hoping you all had a joyous Valentine's Day!

Ciao,

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog