No matter how self important we fashion people may become, Mother Nature proved that she’s the one calling the shots during New York fashion week. The defining trend this season: The cold. Not in recent memory has there been so many women wearing down jackets and Wellington boots during fashion week. Pity the street style photographers.
Despite what was happening on the streets, however, the city still brought the glamour the industry has come to expect from New York, the first stop on the month long fashion season.
Red was big this season: There was the last look at Donna Karan, which was Karlie Kloss in a flowing chiffon cape. And then there was Tabitha Simmons’ birthday dinner at the Bowery Hotel where she found herself in a ginger sandwich, courtesy of fashion’s favorite red heads Karen Elson and Grace Coddington. (Also at Tabby’s birthday, I met the actor called Kit from Game of the Thrones. I haven’t yet seen that show, but Kit was reason enough for me to add it to my Netflix queue.)
Perhaps the most poignant moment during fashion week was a dinner that Barney’s organized at the Swiss Institute on Wooster Street to celebrate their spring campaign, which Bruce Weber photographed using exclusively transgendered models. Fashion week dinners can be tedious, and using transgendered models could be seen as a gimmick. But Bruce’s 35 minute film, served during the first course, was an endearing tribute to some of the world’s strongest, most inspiring young people. I was sat next to a girl called Valentijn, who had been born a boy and started taking hormones when she was 5. She wanted to be a ballerina, and has used the poise she used as a young dancer to grow into an elegant – and extremely tall – model based in Holland.
Other memorable moments? Alexander Wang’s dance party, which was held in a much more convenient venue than his fashion show. Grace Jones performing at AMFAR. Moncler’s presentation at the Hammerstein Ballroom, which had an acapella group on stilts swinging around a stage that was filled with a Hollywood Squares-inspired grid of their outwear. Prabal Gurung had a streaker at his show, which was amusing and sort of annoying. (To work for six months on a show, and then some Urkanian douchebag mucks it up? Not cool.) The Purple party was cooler than school. And just as the snow started to come down, Proenza Schouler hosted an afterparty for their show — which was one of my favorites of the week — at Westway.
Finally, on the snowiest, slushiest, coldest day, it all ended: Marc Jacobs presented a sparkled and ruffled fantasy of a show under plushy clouds. It made me think that even on a cloudy day, in fashion we can find beauty. After the show, I ended fashion week in the most fabulous way I could think of: At a crappy midtown karaoke bar to celebrate my friend Kristina’s birthday. Not to brag, but I killed it on the mic to ‘Fergilious’ and ‘Jesus Walks.’