LA Fashion Week In Review

Posted: March 23, 2012 by Esteban in Events - On the Town

Photos by Homer Bell Photography

Words by Esteban

As an exhibitionism advocate, I find my wardrobe to be nothing more than a social obligation of decency, preventing me from getting arrested when I leave the house – for awhile, at least. Let’s follow that circle of thought to its logical destination and ask the obvious question, “Wouldn’t fashion week be a hell of a lot better if no one wore clothes?” But that is an entirely different week and this article is not about which of the UVSF staff looks best naked (since the answer is so obviously me). Welcome to LA Fashion Week in review.

By now you should know that Confidential Beverly Hills throws some sick ass parties. That’s why with the advent of LA fashion week, seeing CBH playing host to a kickoff event peaked our interest. A brisk stroll through the pallid, underground venue and the variety of its utility seem limitless when compared to our last visit. A Swiss Army knife of nightclubs, this destination is just as much lounge as it is dancehall. Still, the lack of an elevated catwalk and 8” by 6” red carpet comprised of astro-turf spray painted red make for an awkward, if not hilarious, fashion exhibition.

From one glamorous venue to another, all events during LA fashion week seem identical as models in their prime, and some a little post their peak, strut their stuff during Hollywood’s Top Designer. Clinging desperately to their favorite models as if shielding their ego, the top designers are easily identified.

Like any other FAME event you might wander into across the city of angels (they will let anyone in with silicon in chest or nylon around neck), the networking aspect is the focal point of the show, rather than the alleged acronym, Fashion, Art, Music and Entertainment. A twisted double entendre wrought by the plastic faces atop the networking ladder, laughing boisterously with index fingers magnetized to the try-too-hard, white collar working class. Bitter metaphors aside, let’s actually examine the clothing already.

It is obvious to even the least vain attendees that spring fashions are in full effect. Colors as light as you can get away with (and in LA that is not a whole lot) in addition to as much skin showing as society will allow. If one can pry a glance away from the tsunami of cleavage long enough to take notice of actual fashion trends, a certain feeling of déjà vu is prominent (No, I will not make that stripper joke). Is there really such a difference between the fashions of last year and 2012? The designers and the models. The Coutures and the Dolces. Beverly Hills and Hollywood. The fashion and the fashioff. Pretty girls in tight dresses and the hair gel hording, sunglass sporting creeps who ogle them. A superfluous rebellion created to enrage the father’s of teenage girls. New pieces, new outfits, new price tags; all crying out for your attention and the attention of your wallets. If I can get away with quoting Trent Reznor in a fashion article, “There is nothing like the feel of something new.” So, know that whatever LA Fashion Week showcased – whatever the models were wearing and whatever they weren’t wearing later in the evening – know that the savvy, young fashionistas of the city will whore out their credit in order to squeeze into the next hot thing.

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