I think the phrase “tapped out” probably originally referred to maple trees, but it’s surely become literal for all the people at fashion week having to tap-tap-tap out their tweets and Instagrams and Vines and blogs. I was happy though that some after-show tapping meant I looked up from the bench at Thakoon to see and hear (real life!) the designer talking about his show.
“I wanted colours that were greyed, soft almost like…a kitten.” He talked about melancholy, about being inspired by Dandelion Wine the Ray Bradbury short story from Gourmet that nostalgizes bottling summer’s growth and drinking it in winter. He was serious, and I loved him for it —fashion can be hard and scary and when I saw his short goatskin patch collar jacket in the gentlest cheetah prints, Ashleigh Good with demi micro bangs that make a face so vulnerable and open, I was suffused with the unnameable feeling of grasping after a time that’s always gone. Or the tender heartache you get when Piper Laurie stands up for the first time in The Hustler and you realize she’s lame.
But back to grasping after concretes: I want this coat at DKNY right now.
In comedy you kill, right? Or you die out there? I’m not sure what you say for runways, but Jeremy Laing’s collection killed! He’s got this long sanded silk crepe two tone slouchy wind dress (and thank you for putting pockets in your clothes!) that basically answers every dress problem (like I want to look sexy, and smart, and surprising, but not have to put something on my body first thing in the morning that makes me feels like I’ve got the grasping hands of 21st century late capitalism squeezing the joy out of my day and it’s only 7:30am).
Happily, by evening women are more ready to be squeezed, and Zac Posen’s satin modified fishtail floor skimmers, some in genius chocolate lab brown, gliding down the restored Terrace Room at the Plaza Hotel, made me wish I had somewhere fancy to go and lots of money.
And, bonus! I sat next to Stefano Tonchi, W editor. He’s tall, grand and Italian accented but charming, and in a fuzzy bear Margiela coat, was looking positively huggable. I got to ask him about the image on page 170 of W‘s entertainment issue. The one with Quentin Tarantino in a Hugh Hefner smoking jacket with his hand on a naked Nichole Galicia’s bum. She plays a slave holder’s concubine in the movie. It was W’s idea, which seemed likely, but QT went along without complaint. It’s not that I believe in censorship, I’m psyched W is busy creating images for our times, but WTF was Tarantino thinking? I’m sure he was drawn in by the persuasive power of the Fashion Lens but that image debunks his posturing about Django Unchained being a politically significant movie about American history rather than an instant gratification Gen X fantasy genre fulfillment. (Confession: I haven’t seen it yet! Will redress this rant after I do.)
Trend spotting: Padded hip bones (analyze!!), molding and structural swingy forms, cropped pants (a cynical trend spotter seat neighbor told me it was because shoes are such a big business), men’s tailoring (witty and wearable at Tommy Hilfiger), loafers of all heel heights, more purple and dark greens, chocolates and steel blues.
Check back daily for reports from the front lines at New York Fashion Week.