Five Awkward Things
We’ll get right to it — though if you have no idea what we’re talking about, do take a look back at the first installment, which went live last Sunday and chronicled the, duh, five most awkward things that occurred on that magical fashion week(end) day.
In this edition, we’re actually compiling a selection of situational snafus that transcend the boundaries of just one single day and produce a more concise glimpse into the most amusing nuances this week has offered starting with one recollection I cannot believe escaped me.
1. Prabal streaker, be damned! Far more entertaining to acknowledge is that upon my walking out of the venue that was blaringly situated on 8th Avenue between 32nd and 33rd streets, Bill Cunningham took one long look at me — with his eyes, not his lens — and cackled like I have never even heard a hayena cackle before. Did you see the Lion King? Remember when the hyenas were surrounding Simba? This was louder than that. I wonder if he knows I was trying to approximate Fran Lebowitz.
1a. I saw at least a dozen photographers nearly get killed outside this particular venue. One tripped over a block of snow and hit the concrete face first. I know that technically the Olympics are in progress in Sochi but unofficially, we’re kicking their asses. Snow wise and where athletic ability is concerned.
2. Also related to the public domain and that which occurs just outside the gauntlets: there is this one photographer who can be seen ambling about almost every off-site fashion show and he is wearing what appears to be a hand-stitched panda mask for seemingly no reason other than to get the gallivanting subjects to look at him and perhaps crack a smile. Though I do suppose it is cold outside. Frankly, I laud his creative acumen and appreciate his decision to guise himself as a panda and not, like, a killer whale.
3. Yesterday at Thom Browne’s Catholic school show, one front row squatter impaired the vision of all spectators behind her with her white, white basket weave of a head. In an earlier post, I called her hair ‘Squidward hair’ which is likely relatively difficult to understand because, well, what *is* Squidward hair, right? But just picture Squidward if he were mid-somersault and wasted. And on top of a woman’s head. She was also wearing sunglasses but it was really dark in there.
4. The sneakers at Marc by Marc Jacobs. I know Amelia said that parents find Fashion Week more confusing than a cucumber farm on Mars but I actually believe these shoes are the precise footwear that farmers well versed in cucumbers and indigenous to Mars wear. I can’t wait to see who defies gravity in them first.
And finally, arguably most awkwardly, it’s a wonder to see show-goers refuse to acknowledge the weather. I am not discounting my own inability to sartorially grasp a 17 degree day, especially because I have become regretfully so well versed in them but particularly in the ankle depot (aisle 9), limbs are free balling like no ball has ever been freed before.
I agree that leaving them bare is incredibly cool, too cool, even, especially on days when you might run into Thom Browne but like I said, it is 17 degrees and you know what that means? That means that come next week, I am bed ridden. And you know what that means? That I have not survived.
So, Fashion Week: 1. Leandra: 0.