Fashion Week Goes On, and On, and On...

DAHLINGS -

I've been thumbing through my notes (or rather, listening to them), and wanted to mention a few shows I forgot to Blackberry to my assistant until today. Pardon my unforgivable laxness.

The Michael Kors show on Tuesday was THE show to be at, dahlings, so naturally yours truly was there, in the front row, resplendent in a quilted cream velvet trenchcoat, carrying a large lacy cream-colored chocolate box of...what else?...chocolate creams. My dears, I plan these things to the tiniest detail. Matching stilleto-heeled cream glove leather boots. I would have worn gloves, but one needs to be able to lick the chocolate off one's fingers in order to get the maximum suffering from the catwalk girls.

I sat in the front row, quite near Sarah Ferguson the Duchess of York, who politely asked for a chocolate cream. But as soon as she took it, she had to stuff it in her mouth lest the photographers see her eating it. It must be such a bore never to be photographed eating! It quite undid any semblance to royalty, watching her chew the candy like a cow chewing its cud.

Seated next to us were Donald Trump, his hair, and his latest wife, as was a security guard to keep The Donald's hair from moving whenever there was a stray breeze from outside the tent. Amazing how fast the man could move! Plus every fashion editor of every magazine, dressed in an array of fur, leather, and various warm things. As usual, it was the actresses and the lower-paid who were shivering in sleeveless dresses. They don't have health insurance, what ARE they thinking?

As for the collection itself, it was all about luxury, which is my bread and butter. Once again, the models were dressed more warmly than many in the audience. Even Coco Rocha was completely swathed, which is a blessing. One does wish Kors would use more than a splash of color here and there. However, the fur dresses--a mink shift!--did make me feel a bit wistful about my decision not to wear fur during this particular Fashion Week. I have such lovely things at home--but then I saw some more of those idiotic Russian hats and my self-esteem rose to its usual high level.

Back to the limo!

Ciao,
Elisa (who still doesn't dare bring Bucky the Wonderdog, who is sulking)

Fashion Week - Coco Rocha, Why??

DAHLINGS –

I had to take a break to Blackberry my assistant to send you word of the shows…I only hope no mistakes are made in translation.

Since Saturday I admit, I have been looking at the collections with an even more jaundiced eye than before, if such a thing were possible. I was refused entrance at the Marc Jacobs for show for my unflattering remarks about his Venice party a few weeks ago. I say, if you can’t take the heat, stay out of the atelier.

Speaking of heat, we are having some of the coldest weather in donkeys years here in New York City. I jump into my limo as soon as I’m finished with one show to go to the next (and to change my outfit and my chocolate box--each have to match!). But all the same, those five seconds on the sidewalk make me quite sympathetic to the less privileged. As long as they don’t try to touch me.

Carolina Herrera’s collection spoke to moi the most. So elegant, so classic, a little flat, but after some of the ordure I have seen on the models’ backs I was grateful for some dullness. There was some lovely dresses, in sophisticated purples and the ever-present gray (too much like the weather for my taste). Including a strapless number I will be ordering for myself that will show off my creamy shoulders perfectly.

Jill Stuart showed her collection at the New York Public Library. If there is a worse setting for a show than a huge, frigid marble cavern in winter, I’d like to know where it is. She claimed to be “inspired by vintage,” and yes, most of the outfits were copies of Swinging Sixties styles. Inspiration, my foot. I see the same things on Ebay—A-line dresses, peacoats (although Stuart had a lovely shade of blue for many of her things), fur toppers—for a fraction of the cost. For a change, the models were dressed more warmly than the crowd, which included many shivering interns in thin blouses and short skirts.

If Stuart’s inspiration seemed a little thin, perhaps it is because she is busy launching more product lines than Halston did when he was desperate for drugs. Not that I imply a thing, mind you. Just musing.

Lara Stone receives my vote for Model Who Looks Most Like She Was Just Hit By A Two By Four Before Her Entrance
The ubiquitous Coco Rocha for Model That Makes You Ask, Why?

Tanya Dziahileva for Most Starved Model (A Ferocious Competition, but Tanya tried to snatch a truffle from my hand at the Luca Luca show!)

The Oscar de la Renta show was wonderfully luxe. Furs, checks, so much to buy! I'm wondering who has had the tightest brow lift...Barbara Walters or Diane Von Furstenberg? Feel free to write in with your vote.

I am simply mad for his beautiful evening gowns. This was my personal favorite:



Of course the ubiquitous Coco Rocha was modeling, as was Tanya Dziahileva, who can look staggeringly gaunt in anything:


Off to see more…I’ve heard that Rod Stewart is in attendance. Did you know that he looks remarkably like my dear Mama did in her dotage?

I did have a lovely time at the Marchesa party (banned from the Marc Jacobs party, of course, and I know better than to try to get in). Harvey Weinstein is such fun, and we played "find the almond" in my decolletage.

A few more days of this and Rosie O’Donnell is going to seem like a breath of fresh air.

Ciao,
Elisa and Bucky the Wonderdog