There is an unspoken goodie-bag etiquette at shows—no one opens it until after they leave, or does so very surreptitiously, tossing aside garish keychains and fuschia-shade lipstick to unearth the $40 scented-candle score, the sacred spa gift certificate.
I say this because I’ve grown obsessed with the goodie bag. Where is it, what’s in it, may I have more Garnier Fructis “hard curl” hair gel please. I think about it on the way to the show, at the start of the show, after the show, en route to my next show.
At an earlier event, I look around but find no bag, and am convinced someone has pilfered it. Who is it? That blonde from Videofashion? Sure, seemed sketchy enough. I flag down a poor Olympus Fashion Week employee: “Where’s the goodie bag? Did you see my goodie bag? Can’t find the goodie bag! Someone grabbed the goodie!”
There is no goodie bag at this presentation. And at Zang Toi, with my open-seating status, there is also no goodie. There is only . . . show. Most everyone else seems to be satisfied with their just-show situation. Malaysian designer Zang Toi—who dresses celebrities and the exceedingly well-heeled for red carpets and costume balls—receives the first standing ovation I’ve seen thus far, for extravagant fur pelts thrown over tiny model shoulders (pretty clear whose runway PETA will be storming next); opulent, Cinderella-confection ball gowns in pink and lilac; and a show-stopping black column dress bedecked with a neckpiece of glittering jewels.