It's Fashion

New York Fashion Week ends today following a week of summer displays - like pictured, forcing my lament: I'm going to the wrong beaches. 

The Big Show takes place in Bryant Park where it moved in 1993 having before that begun in 1943 as the world's first organized fashion week to attract attention away from the French during World War II, when industry insiders unable to travel to Paris. 

The circus moves to London next week, which has Sonnet in a flutter - the museum and her colleagues are also buzzy about hats, whose display opens around the same time. Sonnet informs me that it is "all about the fantasy" (I think: gay) which is well anticipated in this environment, escapism and all that. It is easy to be dismissive - hats? - until seeing the beauty behind something so simple and every-day. It is not only the garment, you see, but the full expression - the model's oiled hair, bared shoulder and sparkling smile+the accompanying outfit netting a sensation. Fun. 

Sonnet's colleague Oriel has been working (running?) non-stop in preparation these past few months and the pre-marketing seems everywhere. But back to the runways: having been to several many of the catwalks with Sonnet and even back-stage on occassion with the models, the thing that strikes me is: how bored the girls are. And young, generally under 19. The bam! they are on display in front of the most critical eye under a bright spotlight being simply revered, loved. Whom am I to wonder if the affection is for all the wrong reasons? Did you know there is a fashion-week in Columbus, Ohio? Snort!

Madeleine sings: "Here comes the bride, a thousand meters wide!"
(she repeats over and over and over until I scream at her to stop)

Eitan has the giggles so badly right now he cannot speak. And for no apparent reason. I look at him blankly but it is hard not to join his fun. Does one ever feel this good again?

Photo from the web, uncredited.