Fashion Week Spring 2013: B.O. Booze and Bad Breath

Guess which one is mine...

 You wonder what I'm talking about? You probably think I've spent one too many days in East Hampton. Truth be told, I'm referring to the great unwashed crowds of Fashion Week. On the very first day back to school, pinched in my seat between a very well known personage and someone who's known somewhere by someone, I was overcome by smells, both noxious and pervasive.Thinking the cloud was coming from the left, I tried as best I could to shift a little to the right. I must of caught my fellow guest on an exhale as I hit a wall that forced me back to my original position. It didn't take long to figure out that despite the haute-est fashion being worn by lots of folks in the crowd, despite Scott Schuman, the diminutive force behind The Sartorialist lurking and zooming in on people to my left and right, and despite the relatively early hour of the day or lateness of the night (you choose) there were a few people who needed more than a strong cup of coffee, a splash of cologne and a tick tack.

The Sartorialist

 I stopped breathing through my nose and scanned the crowd to see what this season has wrought. First trend alert: tote bags. They were everywhere, on every arm and nestled at the feet of everyone. From distressed, D.Y.I. paint splattered L.L.Bean bags to very fancy, spare luxurious leather ones. It was hard to tell what was what. The Sartorialist was busy shooting bags, skinny suited guys and eccentrically dressed women. Sun glasses were worn by too many, as well. The implication of self importance and an inflated self regard, endemic to the fashion flock, makes this particular tick really unattractive. Particularly, when watching front row friends reuniting with exaggerated peals of laughter, air kisses and expressions of surprise and all for the sake of hovering photographers. Like fashion today, so much appears hollow and forced as if the creature died long ago and we're left with its dried and brittle shell.



Its the children that give us hope. The standing room section is always the most interesting one to study. That's where one finds the novices, the saplings who one day will grow to be the Redwood trees of the fashion jungle. For the most part, these fresh faces hew to the idea of fake it til you make it. Tote bags and sun shades predominated in standing, along with preening and posing in hopes that Scott Schuman might notice. One young man caught my attention for opposing reasons. He had an innocence in his face that one rarely sees these days. He looked so fresh, bright eyed and happy to be at the show.

Toteville

Despite being herded with the rest of the people standing on either side by determined P.R. assistants, he looked unbothered and cheerful. This was some one's kid who had run away to the big city to make it, like so many of us. It wasn't until that standing room crowd shifted that I  got a clearer picture of what he was wearing. It was all white with the top cut like a sleeveless vest with cascading panels and trousers also in white. His clothes looked to be of his own design. There was a naivete and charm to their generous fit on his overly thin frame. Like so many in the room, this young man had a key accessory that drew the eye and punctuated his look. Around his neck was a narrow leather choker from which tresses of human hair fell to his waist.

There are a lot of gimmicks out there, from beauty marks, excessive foundation, drawn on eyebrows with magic markers and a re-do of Gloria Vanderbilt's hairdo (the combed back tight flip at the base of her neck) and all of this employed by a man of a certain age. Its no wonder that a kid who's barely crossed the threshold of puberty would feel compelled to sport a neck beard. Well, gang, It's On! Fashion week is in full swing. Grab your tote and shades, take a couple of Xanax and don't forget to bathe. Let's compare notes as we go!