image: Brendan Adam Zwelling. BAZphotography.com
I did it. Yes, indeed. I wore Uggs to LG Fashion Week and nobody cared. But which is more alarming? That I wore Uggs to Toronto Fashion Week or that NOBODY cared? I tend to think the latter of the two is what we should all really be concerned about. Maybe it was the dreary weather or maybe someone should have swept the leaves, mud and gum wrappers off the red carpet that lay soaked in water, with two white tigers at its helm, in front of the tents at David Pecaut Square. Street style photogs convened in a circle talking about zoom lenses (presumably) more so than actually using their DSLRs. The pinnacle of glamour was the girl with the Mad Hatter top hat – I bet she’s in every single magazine and on every blog right this moment. And I bet you all know exactly who I’m talking about. Like my google analytics line graph on a post-fashion week weekend, the general chicness of TFW took a nosedive.
Fashion in absentia. That would’ve been a better name for the week than the oh-so-creative alliteration, Canada Cool. The venue, the buzz, the media lounge – everything was just a lacklustre excuse for cool. I mean, we went from zebra rugs, plush couches, a big screen TV, rows and rows of computers, and an espresso machine to two white tables, 12 chairs, and a vitamin water stand in Metro Hall’s lobby as our ad hoc media lounge. Did our $100 media pass not permit plusher accommodations or did the price of cookies go up? I swear I ate enough Special K bars that week to lose 30 pounds. Isn’t that how they work? Eat them and lose weight? Fuck, I even had one for breakfast this morning and I’m not even at fashion week. I’ve become dependant.
As I wean myself off Special K, I’ve got a lot of time on my hands to think about what our fashion week has become. Heritage Court was inconveniently located but I think the inconvenience was a good excuse to dress up. I mean, if I gotta go all the way down there, by taxi, I may as well wear my Louboutins. And the decor! Little dining room tables, chandeliers, candelabra, zebra rugs, couches, curtains. All we had this year was a pyramid display of Woolite and a matte-finished, Mercedes Benz. And oh yeah, Special K. I would never even dream of wearing my chocolate brown Uggs to fashion week; that shit cray! And yet there I was, getting the green light from my twitter peeps to don that controversial footwear.
I even sat front row at Baby Steinberg in them. Faux pas! As I looked around, however, I didn’t feel underdressed or anything like that. Has Toronto Fashion Week become a lacklustre event we fashion industry people dread? I mean, by the end of it people around me were actually groaning, out loud, while in line at Denis Gagnon. “Thank the lord this week is over” and “OMG if I see another Special K bar I’m going to hurl”. Is that how people feel at the end of Paris Fashion Week? I wonder….