Blogspot, dispatch from baby's first fashion week.
Wikipedia once told me that The Nanny, Fran Drescher's masterpiece sitcom, was inspired by her interations with her friend Twiggy on a cruise they once took. That Pygmalion tension of mixing rich and poor, fabulous and horrifyingly unclassy--I was meditating on these issues as I urinated at the Gotham Ballroom after the Cynthia Rowley show on Thursday night.
I had just physically collided with Alan Cumming as he came out of the bathroom. He, being fucking awesome, brushed it off with a 'oh, terribly sorry.' My response was 'Oh my God', followed by a weasel-quick fleeing into the bathroom.
Thinking of this experience now, a story of one of the physician's assistants I volunteer with comes to mind. During a female pelvic examination in her early years, she had taken a peek into this one woman's vagina, stepped back and shrieked 'Oh my God.' This is perhaps a little more mortifying than my collision with celebrity, but in my mind now, Alan Cumming and massive yeast infections will be coupled until I die.
As for the show itself, I took issue with some of the detailing on the shoulders. Remember in middle school Home Ec when you made stuffed animals and had to leave about an inch between the seam and the edge of the fabric pieces you were sowing together? Probably not, but they disappear when you flip the sown fabrics inside out. The shoulders on two or three of these dresses looked like the edges of unflipped 7th grade stuffed animals or the crinkled edges of a well made empanada or pot sticker dumpling.
I took issue with one of the looks in particular, a metallic dress with flame print covering the bottom of the skirt. I'd like to RSVP on this invitation to call this dress "The Firecrotch." Granted, I didn't have the greatest view of the models, but I did have the most amazing vista of Tim Gunn's grimaces. He was clearly not digging the empanada shoulders.
But I a lot of fun and bonded a bit with the gays. And the open bar at the afterparty was nice. Cynthia Rowler herself is adorable and elfin. She even deigned to speak with me! A big thanks to Svedka for sponsoring both the fashion industry and my Friday morning hangover! A big thanks to Leigh Watts, the greatest publicity intern ever. Whoever is reading this: hire him.
Wikipedia once told me that The Nanny, Fran Drescher's masterpiece sitcom, was inspired by her interations with her friend Twiggy on a cruise they once took. That Pygmalion tension of mixing rich and poor, fabulous and horrifyingly unclassy--I was meditating on these issues as I urinated at the Gotham Ballroom after the Cynthia Rowley show on Thursday night.
I had just physically collided with Alan Cumming as he came out of the bathroom. He, being fucking awesome, brushed it off with a 'oh, terribly sorry.' My response was 'Oh my God', followed by a weasel-quick fleeing into the bathroom.
Thinking of this experience now, a story of one of the physician's assistants I volunteer with comes to mind. During a female pelvic examination in her early years, she had taken a peek into this one woman's vagina, stepped back and shrieked 'Oh my God.' This is perhaps a little more mortifying than my collision with celebrity, but in my mind now, Alan Cumming and massive yeast infections will be coupled until I die.
As for the show itself, I took issue with some of the detailing on the shoulders. Remember in middle school Home Ec when you made stuffed animals and had to leave about an inch between the seam and the edge of the fabric pieces you were sowing together? Probably not, but they disappear when you flip the sown fabrics inside out. The shoulders on two or three of these dresses looked like the edges of unflipped 7th grade stuffed animals or the crinkled edges of a well made empanada or pot sticker dumpling.
I took issue with one of the looks in particular, a metallic dress with flame print covering the bottom of the skirt. I'd like to RSVP on this invitation to call this dress "The Firecrotch." Granted, I didn't have the greatest view of the models, but I did have the most amazing vista of Tim Gunn's grimaces. He was clearly not digging the empanada shoulders.
But I a lot of fun and bonded a bit with the gays. And the open bar at the afterparty was nice. Cynthia Rowler herself is adorable and elfin. She even deigned to speak with me! A big thanks to Svedka for sponsoring both the fashion industry and my Friday morning hangover! A big thanks to Leigh Watts, the greatest publicity intern ever. Whoever is reading this: hire him.
posted by Byron at 3:00 PM
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