People tend to think that Fashion Week is this highly galvanized assemblage of women commenting on other (often lither) women wearing new clothes that serve as markers to comment on the ways in which other (a third other) women will want to dress. Yes, there are air kisses. The outfits off the runways typically are as good as they seem in photos and considering how icy it’s been out this particular season, the heel wearers walk with the poise of Elizabeth Taylor.
But even in spite of the stereotypes proven right, there’s something amusing to be said about all the other stuff. The riff-raff and clumsy nuances that make getting from one to the next all the more worth it — which is why we bring you this: a new series indigenous to Fashion Week called Five Awkward Things where we point out the unusual happenings of Lincoln Center, Milk Studios and beyond and share it with your fine asses.
And we’re starting today (Saturday, February 8th for those of you who have chosen to lead lives indepedent of time keeping), so:
#1: The most saliently awkward thing to have reared its head today (outside of my eyebrows, of course) was the attractive and well-built streaker who interrupted Prabal Gurung’s show earlier today, which was held on 33rd and 8th. Said attractive man appeared from behind the same curtain where models were emerging in a black knee-length trench coat and leopard print, Borat-style g-string thong. He was wearing a Burger King crown tilted as though he were Biggie and a security guard chased him for a mere 25 seconds across the venue, while the models continued on as they do, to no avail.
Frankly, it has to be said, not even the Prabal Streaker could detract from the designer’s smart use of knit layers coupled with rich silk and chiffon.
The second awkward — though this one isn’t so much awkward as it is equal parts amusing and awesome — thing came care of the Prabal Gurung show (well, after show), too. See, when all was said and previewed, one ubiquitous model, Hanne Gabby Odiele, made it out the door faster than most showgoers did in what was effectively a full-length windbreaker. She posed with yellow police tape and gave them hungry photographers precisely what they wanted. Then she went off on her merry way — presumably to run a marathon. Or NASA space camp.
#3: At Ostwald Helgason, Amelia sat next to a man who appeared normal from the torso up. He smiled and clapped when appropriate – donning a baseball cap and facial beard de rigeur. His t-shirt was grey and demeanor unwitting but with just one gaze down to his lap, there it was: a full face mask that may or may not have belonged to a bona-fide murderer one time, replete with fur head, bruises and scars. I hope he doesn’t know where I live. Do you think he knows where I live?
And finally, the fourth and fifth awkward things to note not just from today but from the week heretofore, include the gesticulations of both myself and Amelia because, you see, I’ve been doing this terrible, terrible thing where I blow kisses at people that I recognize and then have to apologize for being such an ass while Amelia has been winking-in-earnest at familiar faces in place of nodding like a regular human being. Why? We have two hypotheses running but I’d rather let you cogitate, so, go on.