New York Fashion Week doesn’t do much for me. (Or should I say it does too much, to me?) Not just because I am stuck slaving away inside the designer showrooms slash makeshift galleries I am casting and styling from, or because I dread the irresponsible trek up to Lincoln Center every day, or because I hardly have time to eat, but more so because, besides Rodarte, and maybe Alexander Wang, who thrive on the surprise element, most shows are quite predictable and conservative. I always look forward to favorites like Phillip Lim and Thakoon, but this season I was missing that bit of theatre to keep my attention.
I don’t want to sound like a grumpy, old hag, but to me it felt subdued – I barely remember anything – despite the fact that the Spring/Summer collections are usually the more exciting ones. Don’t get me wrong, I too am taken by the all-the-rage 90s minimalism, but we can’t all be wearing a Parental Advisory sweatshirt next season. Of the shows I attended, I loved the flowing layering at Theory, the poignant zebra print at Suno, the frayed hemlines at Peter Som and the fringed patchwork dresses at Herve Leger. Diane Von Furstenberg put on a good show by playing Pharrell Williams and casting Naomi Campbell to close; so did Prabal Gurung and his orchestrated set of sorbet-colored models. I was mesmerized by the minimal beauty of Vanessa Axente in Calvin Klein, the shorter-than-usual cuts at Narciso Rodriguez and the way Victoria Beckham always seems to be making clothes, just for me.
There’s a few things I tend to focus on. Obviously: will I wear any of this? (“Is this Joosy?”) And if not, who will? I always imagine my friends in the looks, which makes it easier to identify with the idea and woman behind the collection. I could easily picture myself in one of the Honor gowns or those incredible creations at Delpozo for example. I also scrutinize the casting. I love a good line-up, even if it’s not all top models. First prize goes to Angus Monroe at Helmut Lang. I loved every girl, from beginning to end; each one contributed to the cohesive, streamlined story of the show. The décor, the fabrics, the sober silhouettes and slick hair, it was flawless, and also reminded me of one half of the Colovos design duo, Nicole. You see? We all do it.
All in all it wasn’t bad. I’m just tired. And ready for Europe.
If you’re a Soho House member, please catch some more snippets of my busy week. You’ll see. I’m not really that bad of a whiner.