Guys, we're delighted to bring you a new Special Correspondent today, the ever-divalicious Vivienne Vyvanse, who has deigned to cast a bit of second-hand limelight and slightly irregular glamour our way as she struts, pouts, and puts it out at the schmatta trade's biggest annual event:
At dusk, as I strolled past the hors d'ouvres and cocktails in Bryant Park (not to mention the riot squad protecting these treats from the indigenous "Occupiers") I realized: "Gee Vi, Fashion has become such a bore." One might conceive that by now we ought all be adorned in a "Jetson" family prêt-à-porter. Or perhaps wearing spray-on togs or something similar. So sad, the street scene seemed totally retro, like the 19-somethings. Ripped jeans, ripped tees, ripped shoes...ripped abs on the guy who casually snatched the cocktail weenie from my hand as he sashayed, quite satisfyingly, through the grounds.
Then, in a moment empty-mouthed and -handed, your correspondent had an Epiphantholic experience (my bad, darlings, check the next OED).
Even before I learned the technique of cutting fabric in such a way that it was impossible to repair, my "Jetson" leisure-line was rejected by Marks & Spencer. This was just the beginning. My exclusive line of "spray-on" casual-wear (developed thanks to a generous grant from E.I. du Pont de Nemours) didn't exactly capture the Zeitgeist in a sustainable manner to continue the crusade.
But every brave designer working this industry will agree: one must be open. And open. Always open. Open to the new -- the deep, wide & tall. So enough about Vivienne, and more about the first night of Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week.
One of the first and foremost trends noticed upon entering the white tent was "hair." Did you know hair-ironing is now back in vogue? Girls (& guys if your man enough) locate your Proctor-Silex ASAP. (The thing with the flat bottom with holes around the edge).
To be honest we all get on in years, so I cannot remember this celeb's name. I'm very sure she is not the young woman who portrayed the "Donna" character in That 70's Show).
I can't remember this name either. She didn't speak to me when I approached. But still evidence of more "chores for scores" on the Big Apple night-life circuit.
I must warn you -- always engage the "steam" option on the Black & Decker or Hamilton-Beach. Make sure moisture is properly distributed or you may end up like this unfortunate creature below:
Who you wearing? I think I saw you outside the tent.
I can't afford Vamptinis anymore.
Carl, darling, I was wearing Lacroix.
Unfortunately I've been fired by my contractor (AARP) for missing two consecutive days of Fashion Week 2012 even though I faxed them the Bellevue Hospital emergency room discharge notices and such. Also I've been served with a notice to leave New York immediately. It's from the US Dept. of State and Hillary signed it. (Ooooh, valuable autograph there ... off to Bonhams with it straight away).
Yeah, hair ironing.
Mallory, a bartender at the former Uppity Turtle on Third, had lots and lots of curly red hair. We discovered one night that we'd gone to the same college, though not at the same time, and the next night Mallory brought in her old yearbook (mid sixties), in which she was barely recognizable, because like every other girl pictured, she had long well-ironed hair.
Seriously, every one. Priceless.
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