>> Courtesy of The Observer:

When Tom Ford first approached Carine Roitfeld and Mario Testino to work with him, they refused. 'But he called, he called, he called. And one day he come to visit us on a shoot and we said, "Oh, he is very good-looking ... Let's do the job with him!"'

I love that this anecdote is so telling about the way the fashion industry (and the world, really) works:  to get noticed, you must be insanely persistent.  And it doesn't hurt if you're pretty. 

More attitude from Carine here.

>>  I'm not going to spend much time on the Oscars, because they were highly uninspiring.  No favorite dresses this time around, no one made me stop and wow.  I don't like to say that, but it's true.  And sometimes truth hurts.  Where's Michelle Williams when you need her?  Even Bjork, where's Bjork -- at least her infamous swan dress (so shoot me, it grew on me) had personality. 
Bits and pieces of note:  the salmon color of Gwyneth's dress (beautiful), the clashing black and navy and fringe! of Portia's dress (loved the braided back), and the spiral seams of Reese's dress (sigh, Olivier).  Oh, and Andre Leon Talley, stick to your day job, darling.  Don't do styling (O Jennifer Hudson, the travesty) or live interviewing on television.  Or practice more in front of the mirror beforehand, get all those talkingwaytoofast jitters out. 

>>  During New York Fashion Week, New York Magazine asked two models (one male, one female), a show producer, and a fashion editor to keep diaries of the food they ate -- and it was the fashion editor who ate the least.  Interesting, no?

UPDATE: Aforementioned editor defends herself, says she eats pasta in Milan.

>> Marc Jacobs once wrote an angry letter to a New York Times journalist who dared to refer to him as "cool," according to The Guardian.  Perhaps that's why Cathy Horyn at the New York Times called his most recent Marc Jacobs collection "a little bored" instead.

>> If you listen to Anna Bayle's sources, models today are "generic," "nondescript,"  and even "disposable."   Bayle, who used to be a top model in the eighties, wrote an interesting in-depth article about the state of modeling today, and how it differs from the past.   It brings up quite a few interesting points, and even begs the question that she seems on the verge of asking: if fashion shows have become so "boring and robot-like," void of personality, are they even relevant anymore?  Editors see most clothing in preview sessions anyway, and if the designers really want models to be like marching hangers, why not save the money and use mannequins?  But then nothing adds to the idea of fashion being glamorous in the public eye than a runway show.

>>  If you are in any way, shape, or form a claustrophobe, going backstage at a fashion show is not a good idea.  The place is crawling with people -- everywhere you look, more people -- photographers and cameramen, makeup artists, hairstylists, reporters, dressers, all wielding their weapon of choice -- cameras, makeup brushes, scissors, microphones, steamers.  Backstage has a major case of "let's put as many things and people as possible into a very small place" syndrome.  To get anywhere, you have to wade through a sea of people. 
    And the models are caught up in the middle of all of it. 
    The makeup artist grabs one model, starts applying makeup, talking to a video crew and reporter about how the "look" for the show is accomplished.  Two models loiter near the table which supports a basket of bananas, some bottled water, spools of thread, blister bandages, and Lifesaver peppermints.  One picks up a mint, pops it into her mouth, and says to the other, "These things are great, they fill me up."  It makes you wonder, a comment like that, if she's for real, or if she just says that to be competitive as a model, to seem more legit.  Another model is crouched under the racks of clothes, drinking some water and scarfing down a burger.  A zillion flashes go off, all the photographers have to chronicle the moment, because look -- models do eat after all!  Actually, quite a few models crouch under the clothing racks -- the only free space available.  Some text on their phones, some write in notebooks.  A model has to undress in front of everyone, put on her runway clothes on to take polaroids.  She looks uncomfortable.  In fact, most of them look uncomfortable.  Miserable, even.  Flashbulbs go off everywhere, chronicling every step they take.

    But it's their job, you say, to have their picture taken.  Yes, I say, but I just couldn't help but feel bad.  The way they crouched under the clothes racks, looking so miserable, cowering away from the cameras.  Never before before has the word exploitative crossed my mind in conjunction with modeling, but it did.  I felt bad watching this go on, taking their pictures.  It was a very different experience than what I expected.  Maybe it was just this group of models -- they seemed very green and I didn't recognize many.  I didn't feel the same vibe at other shows, with other more recognizable, more experienced models -- they seemed more comfortable, happy, at ease -- they even cracked some smiles and made some funny faces.  So maybe this particular group of models hadn't yet come to terms with the model lifestyle.  But it was very surreal, this peek into the life of a model.  And very different from my experiences at age 16, 18, or even 20.  I can't say I would want that life.  I can't say I would.

>> As high-end/low-end collaborations like Christopher Kane for Topshop are becoming more and more de rigueur, the whole of fashion seems to be moving away from the art and towards the commercial.  Enter Jefferson Hack and his Another Magazine.  For the past two years, at Hack's request, 15 designers have been collaborating with artists of their choice on a unique design, featured in Another Magazine's spring 2007 issue.   Stella McCartney worked with Jeff Koons on a dress that ended up costing $250,000 to manufacture. 

Christopher Bailey and Annie Morris produced a dress that was half Burberry trench, half flowing train of 25,000 hand-painted clothes pins.  Due to the participant's busy schedules, "Some pieces had to travel back and forth between the artist and designer," Hack told WWD. 
    The final products are all beautiful, but best final presentation goes to Martin Margiela and Gotscho, with the dress eerily hanging from a mannequin and tethered down by a pair of red pumps.

"Dress Art" Part 1, Part 2

>> Or Bryant Park, rather.  Mercedes-Benz really brought out the beef in front this time around -- there was no walking through the Red Rover line of security guards with a simple "I'm on the list."  It was all press credentials, invitation, or bust.  The funny thing is, even when you're inside the tents, it doesn't guarantee you'll be seeing the show.  The only things you're guaranteed are free copies of Fashion Week Daily, New York Magazine, The New York Times and a visit to a smelly Port-a-Potty (the poor woman cleaning the toilets was wearing a surgical mask, just to illustrate).

         After running the security-guard gauntlet, you have to face the table full of public relations people.  If you're lucky (an editor, buyer, well-connected person), your name is on the list, you have an invitation and a seating assignment, and you can pass right through.  You can even arrive a few minutes late from your last show (fashion shows on average start 40 minutes behind schedule, and the actual show lasts about 10-15 minutes).  If you're not so lucky -- you have an invitation, but no seating assignment, you are relegated to the standing room line.  If you think (or know)  you will be in standing room, it's good to arrive about 20 minutes before the show is scheduled to start.  Because there will be a lot of people in the standing line, and almost never will they all be let into the show.  Once you're in the standing room line --  you will be doing just that -- standing -- for about an hour and fifteen minutes (20 minutes before the show is scheduled to start, another 40 minutes before the show actually starts, and 15 minutes during the show). 
    If you are part of the standing line allowed to go into the show, be prepared, you feel like cattle being herded through the chute.   People elbow, push, and power-walk just short of running.  They have to get into the (insert designer's name here) show, goshdarnit!   Then you file behind the rows of seats along both sides of the runway, next to the wall.  If you're really lucky (notice how much luck is involved in this process), a public relations person will ask you to fill in a seat that was assigned to someone who neglected to show up. 

    You're in.  You breathe, prepare for the spectacle -- because believe me, as much as you have to go through, it is worth it.  Very very worth it. 
    Welcome to New York Fashion Week.

>> Forget Proenza Schouler for Target.  Everybody and their mom is going to have a variation on that bustier dress.  Christopher Kane for Topshop showed up online this morning, in all its neon-highlighted, body-conscious, lacy goodness.  (Don't kid yourself, it's not nearly as good as his high-end collection, but what do you expect?)
Lucky for me that I've been wanting something (dress or top) with a sweetheart neckline and and sheer overlay above -- Mr. Kane's got three options waiting for me.  I just have to choose -- nude, gray, or black.  I'm thinking nude. 

>> Just in New York for fashion week.  And without reliable internet access.  Many apologies.  Please hang tight!  xx