For fashionistas, buyers, the media, and insiders in the “rag trade” the past week was an adrenalin rush, you betcha.
Last night’s closing “bash” was no exception!
Whether the tony elite mixed-and-mingled under a canopy of stars or inside the big top (fashion tent) it was an upbeat experience replete with a smorgasbord of sensory delights.
For starters, the sexy boy band – "Midnight Red" - were on hand to perform for the packed house.
“They’re going to be big,” chirped Mikey Koffman (producer of Los Angeles Fashion Week) shortly after introducing the lead singer to the hyped-up audience ready to party-hearty.
A highlight of the night were the fashions unveiled by Dina Bar-el and menswear designer Anthony Franco.
Bar-el’s collection was all glam as usual!
The designer dazzled the fashionistas with her eyel-popping fashions which featured sheer fabrics, sexy silhouettes, and unique styling flourishes.
I have been to a couple of Bar-el’s shows in the past.
Unfortunately, the designer appears to be so focused on her creations, that she neglects to take a glance in the mirror.
The sparkly body-fitting gowns she crams her fleshy body into are not flattering at all!
Up-close, it’s obvious she’s in bad need of skin moisturizer, too.
If Bar-el was better-known, she'd end up on my worst-dressed list.
She comes across like an amateurish MC for a Drag show at Hamburger Mary’s.
Sorry, Dina.
Franco established that he’s a designer here for the long haul, by the way.
With great style and originality, the charismatic designer whipped up a collection of Men’s suits that were simply stunning.
A risk-taker, yes.
Franco managed to strike an excellent balance - and in the process - created stylish outfits ready for widespread appeal in the mainstream.
His patterned suits – with peacock subtleties – are for the confident bold man with a keen sense of style and adventure.
On occasion, when the handsome male models strutted down the runway – half-naked (showing off perfectly chiseled abs and pecs) the audience went wild (whooping and hollering it up).
Franco is instinctively keen on what sells.
At the close of the show, he was adamant to fashion editors that the offerings weren’t that difficult to envision.
“I didn’t’ give the designs much thought,” he stated matter-of-fact.
Well, you’ve either got “it”, or ‘ya don’t.
He has a natural flair for the original – and the daring – in spades (that’s for sure).
Earlier on in the evening, Beverly Henry’s models caused quite a stir when they strolled out in over-the-top cocktail dresses fashioned in plastic!
What a novel idea!
One dress – which fluttered up on one side – appeared to be windswept. And, a sapling woven into the design, was obviously a subliminal message about the environment.
It will be interesting to see what Henry fathoms up next season for an encore.
For the most part, Fashion Week was a festive vastly entertaining event.
But, there were a few missteps as usual.
Young ladies at the front desk were a bit testy (attitude problems?) when it came to sign members of the media in for the splashy much-anticipated event.
How difficult is it to check a name off a list?
Duh!
The inexperienced staffers were clueless about one vital fact.
It is generally not a good idea to tick off the press.
One of the caterers was a bit insulting to the guests, too (bubba sweets).
When fashionistas sashayed up to her table for a cupcake, she scolded them.
“Just take one. That way, there will be enough to go around.”
The walnut-sized designer cupcakes weren’t substantial enough to satisfy anyone’s sweet tooth. If she was having a problem providing enough treats for the house, she should have asked Koffman to bring in a second baker to bring up the slack.
One golden rule to follow at high-profile events?
Never be rude to a guest.
One Asian photographer (sporting a white hat) showed his lack of breeding on the red carpet, as well.
Out-of-the-blue, he’d push his way in-between photographers to nab a publicity shot last-minute
When he did so, he'd bump into a handful of photo journalists – at which point – he ruined their chances for nabbing that "money" shot.
According to Mr. Manners (aka Julian Ayrs) that fellow displayed a shocking lack of class.
Security!
I’d be remiss if I did not mention that there were some glitches when it came to the after-parties, too.
For example, one evening the guests were invited to trot over to AV (on Selma in Hollywood) to mix-and-mingle and down a cocktail-or-two on the house.
After bidding good night to a few associates at Sunset Gower Studios, I headed out to the party to unwind a little, if possible.
On the street, I bumped into another reporter heading in that direction, so we struck up a conversation as we scouted the darkly-lit street for the nightclub.
When we came up empty-handed at first, a doorman at a popular watering hole down the street, noted that the after-hours hideaway was situated on the corner.
Once we tracked the joint down, a burly black security guard proceeded to ask us to rustle up our credentials. Once inside the impressive heavilly-panelled front doors, we made a beeline for the bar.
Guess what?
The bartender informed us that the “open bar” allegedly courtesy of Fashion Weekend was already shut-down for the night at 10 o'clock!
But, with a bit of arm-twisting we managed to scoff up a Vodka cocktail.
The funniest thing happened when we sought out a quiet corner to chat each other up. Inside a second room, we located a small table that appeared to be free, so we plunked ourselves down to chit-chat.
Within minutes, a handsome young waiter glided up and placed a tray of sushi in front of us.
So, of course, we dug in.
Big mistake!
A few minutes later a young man strode up and informed us that he had rented the room we were kibitzing in for his 22nd birthday!
OMG!
We apologized profusely.
The nightclub had rented two separate rooms to two different parties which accounted for the mix-up.
Fortunately, the young lad was cool and forgave us.
“We crash so many parties,” I joked.
“But, we finally got caught!”
Yes, it was one of life’s embarrassing moments.
But, the biggest let-down occurred last night.
At the close of the scintillating runway show, Mikey Koffman graciously invited all present to attend an after-party at the Premiere Club on Las Palmas.
“There will be an open bar. We’re going to take care of you. You’re all invited,” she enthused in so many words.
Unfortunately, it turned out to be a downer.
Once there, guests were informed that there were no “drinks” on the house.
“They never made any arrangements with us,” the bartender confided in me.
Say what?
I was surprised because Mikey and her gang were usually on top of things.
Koffman, in particular, usually pays attention to all the niggling details.
Did one of her handlers screw up?
In addition, it should be noted for the record that the Premiere is a little hole-in-the-wall in a seedy part of Hollywood.
A dive!
For many, it was a jarring end to what had been a dazzling night out at the high-energy Fashion event.
The week did not unfold without mishap for me, either.
Early on in the week one of my crowns (porcelain tooth) came loose.
But, I was unable to set up a dentist’s appointment before the Fashion Weekend kicked-off.
So, I was forced to swab a little paste on the cap and pray for the best.
Damn!
On a couple of occasions – when I was having a conversation with folks in the glare of the spotlight – the crown popped out and rolled across the floor!
Because the little sucker cost approximately $500.00 – and I needed it for the dentist tomorrow – I was forced to scramble after it.
Unsuspecting guests must have thought I was loonie tunes (or a bit tipsy).
How embarrassing.
But, I have a great sense of humor, fortunately.
I should have invited Lauren Hutton to be my guest at Fashion Weekend, then we both could have showed smiling gap-toothed!
What a hoot that would have been.
‘Til next year, eh?
Lauren Hutton's gap!
Dina Bar-el fashions tout design flourishes!
Producer Mikey Koffman - tattoos & all!
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