Philly Fashion Week: It Ain’t Over till It’s Over

The bar--always a hit.

Alright.  So we’ve watched a few shows.  Drank a few cocktails.  Do we feel any differently about the Philadelphia fashion scene?  Have the previous three days provoked a budding designer within me to start crafting pencil skirts out of rubber, or purchase acid wash jeans directly off the runway?  At the very least, did the accompanying DJ sets provide enough bass to keep my head thumping for the rest of the week? (Yes)

If I am to be honest—and isn’t that what blogging is all about?—Philly Fashion Week was not what I expected.  I do not mean that in a bad way or really a good one, but the strictly-business mental image I had procured prior to Thursday’s show was completely shattered when I recognized the goal of the night was not only to showcase “Philly’s finest” but to provide a small-scale shopping venue to get girls grabbing at their wallets.  The twelve boutiques located conveniently between the entrance and the stage were just as focal in the nights’ presentations as the designers.  I mean, with a half hour between shows—what’s a girl to do?

The majority of the shows were, for me, a bit of a letdown.  While most runways tend to feature ready-to-wear or haute couture, the designers here showed street wear.  More affordable, and certainly more wearable, but do I really want to see the seven deadly sins strut down the runway pasted in glitter across a [very built] male model’s chest?  And how many different types of acid wash jean can you make, anyway?  Moore College’s student showcase on Thursday was one of the few shows with a little more imagination to it.  Pale leather bondage straps across white fabric, a few classic ruffled pieces—the show was good, and the students had clearly thought outside the realm of ‘typical fashion’.

From left: Moore College, Moore College, GAR-DE, GAR-DE

GAR-DE, on Friday, was also impressive—lots of great leather jackets, and some drapey tops with a few cut-outs.  This seemed to me a relatively good balance between RTW and street wear.  Not too outrageous, but with a little variety in shapes.  Wrath Arcane, albeit being a bit boring, showed a very clean-cut silhouette and some particularly adorable men’s loafers.

From left: Wrath Arcane, Palmieri Jeans, Nine Days Denim

Of the disappointments, I wasn’t particularly intrigued by Street Star Custom Clothing’s aforementioned glittering sins.  Asserting gluttony?  Sexy.  Palmieri Jeans were just kind of weird to me.  Their claim to fame is unique tailoring, one that lacks a waistband and includes overdrawn seams.  Interesting concept, but I’m not sure anyone was ready for that.  Also, Nine Days produced an astounding amount of acid washed denim.  I know I keep mentioning it, but it was literally all over the runway—hopefully not as a prelude to a terrifying trend.  Their models donned some cool hair and makeup, though, in a teased-and-electrocuted sort of way.  Definitely sexy (although perhaps more credit should be given to the solid five seconds they all spent eye-fucking the camera at the end of the runway.)

But as stated before, the fashion week experience was much grander than these shows.  After being bored out of my mind Thursday night; notepad in hand, stationed properly within the front row waiting patiently between shows, I decided on Friday to treat the night as it was meant to be treated—like a party.  Thursday’s late-start compelled me to arrive fashionably late on Friday, which really only ended up cutting off my nose to spite my face, as I missed the first show and a seat.  Fortunately I had decided to forgo stilettos for the evening, so my heels were at least comfortably weighted to the floor.

David Evangelista emcees a VIP ghost town

Let’s talk, for a minute, about the design flaws surrounding this event.  First, the runway is a circle.  Not that this in itself is bad news bears—only when there is seating within the circle that can only be accessed by climbing over the runway.  Further, the seating was VIP only, which meant quite a few empty seats filling the backdrop of most professional pictures during the night.  Awkward.  Seats for us normal/poor people were limited, with three rows on each side and an amassing crowd looking antsy standing behind.

There were also an obnoxious number of breaks between each show, due to the fact that each designer used the same models and had to change hair and makeup each time.  The 20-30 minute breaks were used to promote the boutiques towards the front of the runway, and guests sipped cocktails and munched burgers as they shopped. (By the way, Matthew Izzo had the largest and most popular boutique—is anyone surprised?)  I, on the other hand, used the breaks to test the many bottles of Fuse water available.  Pomegranate Acai Berry was a personal favorite, but Raspberry Cranberry came in close second.

Overall, the show’s flaws subsided as the “week” went on, and I imagine, should they generate enough interest, there will be another one in our future.  Thursday’s crowd just looked kind of uncomfortable, but Friday night brought more people and more excitement to the event.  And again, the show isn’t just about the designs.  It is compelled to creation by the customer; by the girl in spike-heeled boots, the one in a glittering mini, the other in a fedora and brocade jacket.  We populate this event, and pursue aesthetic gold on a daily basis.  So if the crowd was happy—and I’m led to believe they were—Philly Fashion Week just might have a future after all.