In fashion, make-believe is far, far easier than other industries. We've built an entire commodity on the belief that something so temporal, so ever-changing can improve one's look and emotional standing. We spin silk from the shadows and alleyways; we convince all that it is the absolute Must Have.
Until now.
And now. Well, now this world crumbles
I moved to New York to pursue the written word. To prove to the world that my scrambled text actually could move someone or something. To seek that almighty question mark, and ampersand with ellipses... But that was years ago. Shortly after settling on these fair islands, I found myself messengering swollen bags to big designers. Rubbing shoulders with them. Soothing their ego. Wigging out over the insignificant. Attending shows and anticipating the lavish, the overdone and lovely.
Fashion was the cultural zeitgeist.
We celebrated the over-the-top and scrumptious. Marie Antoinette was crowned our queen; Karl Lagerfeld, our king. $800 camis were called big bargains. The bubble expanded more and more, and more thinning its elasticity. Fashion girls hobbled down Fifth Avenue, their red soled shoes attracting Bill Cunningham's lens. Patrick McDonald arched his brow: hand on the hip now, pose. Team Anna & Team Carine formed. Achingly long hours wasted at castings; go-sees; brainstorms fittings; sprees through the City, searching for wrapping paper in the perfect shade of silver. And still, the ladies shopped - closets bloated with Balenciaga, Lanvin, Zac, CDG, JPG, Peter, Rodarte, and more. We ached with anticipation.
Doesn't it feel good to be so full and happy?
But then something happened - it started with my sister-in-law. Almost a year ago. Her company streamlined its efforts; she no longer was needed.
But we were ok. We had the Europeans! And Russians with their dripping oil accounts and Germans with their fanny packs bursting with weak dollar bills. The streets echoed with foreign voices and words. Subway advertisements became multi-lingual. Macintosh sapped their honey pots dry - at least temporarily.
Madoff. And your ponzi scheme. And, truthfully, I don't even really know what a ponzi scheme is. I can't even begin to explain how one can easily trick so many. But I can relay how, exactly, these tricks have affected our little cozy nest.
See - I just was beginning to enjoy this paillette-encrusted world. I just was beginning to see its beauty and truth. I was beginning to fit in; to see it up close, with my own big eyes. The resentment faded and I embraced this garish frivolity. I anticipated and enjoyed it. And then watched it fade as quickly as the fashion girls snapped into my life.
Now WWD report disintegrating sales and announcements of Chapter 11. Bryant Park Cancellations. What will Fall trends be? Who will we pick to worship for a few months? What will CFDA focus upon?
It's all silly stuff. Yes - silly, transient stuff that does zero to improve the world. But it's beauty. Impossibly beautiful things that consider so much .
And, yes, I'm a little drunk. Vodka's a wonderful thing these days. Numbs reality for a bit. Because, as I told a friend, nothing's worse than going home alone, facing a cat & dog who want nothing more than a full bowl of water & food. They don't understand my sadness in losing breathtaking fashion spreads to an assembly-line of models standing before beige backgrounds. Nor will they comprehend the sorrow in losing shows in lieu of showroom visits. The romance dwindles. My heart sinks.
Fashion soon, I fear, will be long out-of-fashion.
And then what will we do?
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