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Last week, I caught up with the goings-on of NY fashion week almost entirely through the musings of our pals The Fug Girls for NY Mag, who thankfully survived a 20-minute fashionista pileup at the Erin Fetherston show, multiple uses of those hideous Port-a-Johns in Lincoln Center, and about a zillion (which is probably a zillion too many) sightings of the newly-single Vanessa Hudgens:
But aside from The Fug Girls’ fun anecdotes, stories about this annual fashion clusterfuck tend to just annoy and/or confuse me. Maybe I’m grouchy because I need a new bag. And some new booties. And a new brown pleather minidress. And I’m suffering from a raging case of lady hormones. And I’m freezing my arse off (LA’s in the 50s right now–but it feels like 37 degrees in my house), so looking at a bunch of skinny people with bare legs instead of winter coats in February in cold-ass New York just makes me feel COLDER.
Now London is celebrating its own Fashion Week, and I can’t seem to deal with it either. My fingers are freezing just as I type the word “fashion.” Is that why I can’t look at these pictures of you outside the Burberry show, Gemma Chang? Whoever you are? Who are you?
Filed under: Alexander Wang, Alexander Wang's Niece, Alla Goldman, Burberry, Chanel, Clusterfucks, Fashion Shows, Fashion Victims, Fashion Weak, Fashion Week, Fug Girls, Gemma Chang Who Are You?, Go Fug Yourself, Lady Hormones, London, London Fashion Week, Maggie Cheung Rules, New York, New York Fashion Week, Strappy Sandals Make Me Vomit, Vanessa Hudgens
I used my sister’s California drivers license as a fake ID from age 14 to 20. She’s eight years older, four inches shorter, and about 20 pounds lighter than me. I remember using the faker in Vegas with a mouthful of braces to win $160 in blackjack, during high school to get into 21+ shows, and all through college to stock my liquid-soaked house parties with coconut-flavored rum and Wild Turkey. Look, if the person checking my face was too dumb to tell us apart, who was I to point out their inadequacies? And for crying out loud, if a Parrot Bay and Wild Turkey purchase isn’t a dead giveaway of total underage-ness, I don’t know what is.
Is benefiting from some dork thinking all Asians look alike wrong? I don’t know. Do I care? Eh, not really.
Gawker reported this morning that three Japanese Lolitas (image above is not them) crashed Tom Ford’s ultra-secret, 100-seat fashion week party Monday night (just one bash, according to a tipster, of many among “the hottest parties all around town.”) Clad in platforms and pinafores, the trio gained entry by saying that one of them was Vogue Nippon editor-in-chief Mitsuko Watanabe, whose photo is to the right (One can only infer that Watanabe rarely, if ever, rocks her homeland’s esoteric, dirty-little-girl street style).
Unfortunately for the imposter and her party pals, Watanabe had already arrived and was seated in her, er, seat. The jig was quickly up and the girls were sent on their merry way. But the coup did happen–success for the Japanese Lolita tricksters! Can you blame them for trying? And succeeding?
Look, if the hoighty-toighty party list weilders are too stupid to tell them apart…
Filed under: Editors, Fake I.D.s, Fashion Week, Fashism, Gawker, Japanese Lolita Trio, Japanese Lolitas Crash Tom Ford Show, Lolita Fashion, Mitsuko Watanabe, New York, Parrot Bay, Party Crashers, Private Shows, Really Dumb People, Tom Ford, Vogue Magazine, Vogue Nippon, We All Look Alike, Wild Turkey