Never mind that our president is throwing us into war. It’s ridiculous again in fashion land, and everybody’s really happy about it. The reigning color on the runways is an aggressively feminine Pepto-Bismol-ish shade of pink, and the reigning mood carries the same bubblegum frivolity. Of course, all this Fashion Week mayhem warrants a short report card.
PROPS to Imitation of Christ’s retrospective at the midtown Maurice Villency store. The chaotic spectacle featured Chloë Sevigny posing in a rainbow-sequined number like some bizarre android, and mouthy femme-C Peaches playing dominatrix to a bunch of topless Eastern European models slavishly vacuuming in an alcove. “Suck that shit up!” she commanded while tugging on their cords. A parade of stars checked out the ruckus, including actress Natasha Richardson, model Omayra, Le Tigre’s Johanna Fateman, comedian Jimmy Fallon, and Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black frontwoman Kembra Pfahler.
MAD PROPS to Bonnie Fuller for publishing a daily broadsheet edition of Us Weekly (our favorite publication—outside of the Voice!) for the tents. Interestingly, the first issue featured a fawning bio on Anna Wintour, the woman who got Fuller canned from her Condé Nast gig at Glamour. Ms. Bonnie, you might wanna wipe off that nose.
NO PROPS to the crowd-control dramas at Baby Phat’s show and Trace magazine’s party at 2 Desbrosses Street, where bouncers rudely redirected the crowds by cussing and pushing them. At the Trace fiasco, even Tiffany Limos, Larry Clark‘s main squeeze and the magazine’s fall cover girl, was refused entry. Meanwhile, over at Bryant Park, Honey editor in chief Amy DuBois Barnett had to race to the photographers’ entrance to beg for admittance into Kimora Lee Simmons‘s dangerously overbooked roll-out.
PROPS to the music at Sportmax’s party in way west Chelsea, where DJ Nicholas Matar supplied a bangin’ set of lush, melodious deep house. Matar, a former marketing director for Pasha in Ibiza, is set to open up Cielo, a mega-lounge for high-fashion househeads in the meatpacking district.
PROPS to Francis Hendy‘s command of prints and color. The show got delayed while staff sat two VIPs in the front row, none other than Ms. Angela Bassett and super-publicist Marvet Britto. The seating, with ushers handpicking spots for guests, was a little weird, but the cavalcade of lushly hued, hand-painted ultra-suede, denim, and leather pieces more than made up for it.
PROPS to Dominican honey Omayra and her phat new highlights. She got applause for her dead-on impersonation of Michael Jackson at Michael & Hushi‘s madcap (but fabulous) show at the Metropolitan Pavilion.
NO PROPS to the fisticuffs that ensued at Marc Jacobs‘s party. As if the mayhem at the tents weren’t enough, two attendees fought over the last of the admittedly generous gift bags (everyone got a full-sized bottle of Jacobs’s new men’s scent).
MAD PROPS to Cedella Marley‘s Catch a Fire show, full of beautiful, flirty rude gals in richly colored separates walking to reggae tunes, and topped off by performances from Ghetto Youth and Wyclef Jean. Plus, the best gift bag ever: Bob Marley incense and rolling papers.
PROPS to James Murphy’s “Losing My Edge,” which was Fashion Week’s unofficial anthem—the bass-driven track was played at Michael & Hushi, Jeremy Scott, and John Bartlett‘s shows.
SPOTTED: Models Natalia Vodianova, Amy Wesson, and Bridget Hall, plus The View’s Lisa Ling and (eww!) David Copperfield at Sportmax’s affair . . . Kevin Aviance, in shocking red pumps, waltzing into the Heatherette party at Elmo Lounge . . . Candace Bushnell, in fur and Manolos, riding down Fifth Avenue to the Marc Jacobs show in the back of a pedi-cab . . . Diesel’s iconoclastic head Renzo Russo visiting Johan Lindeberg at his Paper-sponsored Soho show . . . stylist Misa Hylton-Brim, one of the jilted Baby Phat VIPs, calmly watching the show on a monitor outside . . . Bono in the stands at Jeremy Scott . . . legendary music mogul Chris Blackwell at Cedella Marley . . . electro hottie Casey Spooner at Yoko Devereaux and Helena Fredriksson‘s show at Angel Orensanz . . . campy “lifestyle guru” Brini Maxwell with fashion plates Patrick MacDonald and Richie Rich at Patricia Field‘s party at Elmo.
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on September 24, 2002