Twice a year, the fashion elite gathers to celebrate fashion in four cities—New York, London, Milan and Paris. For an almost endless, whirlwind month, designers, stylists, makeup artists, and editors show us what we should be wearing, now and in the coming seasons, parading from show to show in an ever-changing array of expensive outfits to prove exactly how important and stylish they are.
For most of the world, fashion is a spectator sport. We look at the collections from afar, the unattainable works of art that only the wealthiest or most influential possess. It’s not much different from owning a real Picasso—very few have the privilege. The rest of us mortals must go to museums to gaze upon his genius.
Of course, most fashion is not quite as exclusive as owning a Picasso, but from here, it can feel that way. Sure I’ve saved up and added a few nice bags to my collection (Marc Jacobs, my love, I will happily work hours on end so our family can grow); however, most other purchases are just out of the question, at least until I make my first million.
Fashion (and especially Fashion Week) is about more than just clothes. As in any business, designers strive to create buzz around their lines, and success is generally measured in dollars. Showmanship is a huge part of the equation, too—editorial darling Alexander McQueen’s productions are notoriously brimming with bizarre effects, like skeletons lining the runway. Most of the clothes are more exaggerated on the runway than when they hit the showroom floors in the coming season.
Even without Fashion Week’s tendency to make things larger than life, there’s still a major gulf between us and the fashion elite. What we wear is much different, in many cases, from what designers and editors think we want to wear. We don’t have fashion magazines or lines to promote, so there’s less costuming and more getting dressed. Sure we all want to look good, but it would be pretty absurd to head out on a Saturday night (much less a Sunday afternoon) in a bold green-jewel-encrusted, body-conscious, long-sleeved, strong-shouldered mini-dress by Balmain and five to six-inch Christian Louboutin sandals—like Anna Dello Russo, fashion director at large of Vogue Nippon, would.
So then, what do we take away from Fashion Week when a shopping list is out of the question? Appreciation for the art, inspiration for new ways to wear things, and perhaps ideas we’d like to wear on a smaller scale. Maybe you’re not buying that Balmain dress I mentioned earlier, but who says you can’t buy a pencil skirt from Urban Outfitters and put some shoulder pads in a blazer or long sleeved t-shirt and try to mimic the look yourself this weekend? You’ll look more normal that way, anyway.
Send Kathleen more bags at ksimone@georgetownvoice.com.
