Fashion week - Day Five
Day five - Tuesday
Heatherette
Fashion show zoo
Considering the theme of the collection was American strength, I find it more than a little unnerving that a large amount of people, (not only the designers) consider their envoys of the States to be: daughters of famous hoteliers and rock stars who don’t actually do anything constructive other than live on the fame and riches of their fathers, socialites, wig wearing Chihuahuas, ex porn stars and post op transsexuals who have more plastic than true flesh covering their bodies.
I knew it was going to be high up on my scale of ‘encounters with fucktards’ when one the designers glided up to me on gold roller-skates and instead of the usual reciprocal greetings one comes to expect like a nice hello, hi, ciao even, I was saluted with an “Ow!”
The finale of the show was when idiot Hilton, carrying a bewigged Chihuahua, was married to her (slightly less) idiot sister by Amanda Lepore in a playboy bunny outfit and dog collar. I think that says everything.
The collection reflected the mental institution’s creative therapy group that was the backstage area: clusters of spray painted shells and tassels glued to tie dyed, (find a happy place) vests Hawaiian grass skirts and gold studded bikinis, block printed, short romper suits worn by oiled up surfers, skull print dresses turned into halter necks with plaited rope collars. The painted ballerinas’ tutus worn under distressed military jackets actually restoked some of my interest. All the models were finished off with white blonde bob wigs, whilst the ‘celebs’ (and there were many more than the pretty people) had to make do with their own hair, poor loves. The collection would have looked better along with its creators as extras on the set of ‘Party monster’
I was tired, can you tell? I possibly felt more vicious about the fact that we couldn’t even have a sip of the mojitos that were floating round than the actual clothes, I wasn’t asking for a pint, just enough to make dealing with idiots bearable.
I’m thinking of letting my 7 yr old niece go through her mum’s wardrobe with a can of car spray paint, a bag of dried pasta and see if she can’t come up with the autumn/winter collection
Heatherette
Fashion show zoo
Considering the theme of the collection was American strength, I find it more than a little unnerving that a large amount of people, (not only the designers) consider their envoys of the States to be: daughters of famous hoteliers and rock stars who don’t actually do anything constructive other than live on the fame and riches of their fathers, socialites, wig wearing Chihuahuas, ex porn stars and post op transsexuals who have more plastic than true flesh covering their bodies.
I knew it was going to be high up on my scale of ‘encounters with fucktards’ when one the designers glided up to me on gold roller-skates and instead of the usual reciprocal greetings one comes to expect like a nice hello, hi, ciao even, I was saluted with an “Ow!”
The finale of the show was when idiot Hilton, carrying a bewigged Chihuahua, was married to her (slightly less) idiot sister by Amanda Lepore in a playboy bunny outfit and dog collar. I think that says everything.
The collection reflected the mental institution’s creative therapy group that was the backstage area: clusters of spray painted shells and tassels glued to tie dyed, (find a happy place) vests Hawaiian grass skirts and gold studded bikinis, block printed, short romper suits worn by oiled up surfers, skull print dresses turned into halter necks with plaited rope collars. The painted ballerinas’ tutus worn under distressed military jackets actually restoked some of my interest. All the models were finished off with white blonde bob wigs, whilst the ‘celebs’ (and there were many more than the pretty people) had to make do with their own hair, poor loves. The collection would have looked better along with its creators as extras on the set of ‘Party monster’
I was tired, can you tell? I possibly felt more vicious about the fact that we couldn’t even have a sip of the mojitos that were floating round than the actual clothes, I wasn’t asking for a pint, just enough to make dealing with idiots bearable.
I’m thinking of letting my 7 yr old niece go through her mum’s wardrobe with a can of car spray paint, a bag of dried pasta and see if she can’t come up with the autumn/winter collection