"I think it's outrageous, I understand they want to set this tone of healthy beautiful women, but what about discrimination against the model and what about the freedom of the designer," said [Cathy] Gould, Elite's North America director, adding that the move could harm careers of naturally "gazelle-like" models.
Fashion Week is more than just an opportunity for designers to show their works with overblown, overpriced shows and overstuffed parties; it's also a chance for journalists to show off their linguistic talents, waxing poetic on hemlines and using language such as "socialite-a-polooza." Amidst the Pulitzer-worthy coverage, we've found one particularly compelling gem, courtesy of Nicole Phelps' review of the Lela Rose show, published on Style.com:
On her way out, Winona Ryder stuffed two or three pieces from Marc Jacobs' new line into her purse.
• Gays, hold on to your pants, because the ugly is about to get uglier: David Gest, estranged husband of Liza Minnelli, is requesting that the court disregard the duo's prenup, as Liza failed to disclose that she was a herpetic alcoholic with violence issues. Even more horrifying: this implies that Gest learned the truth once he got his own lesions, meaning the two actually slept together. Behold the miracles of science. [E!]
• Tom Cruise continues his descent into obscurity by making appearances as Six Flags and a Redskins game in an effort to appear "average" and "normal." [Wonkette]
• Ashlee Simpson hits Barneys, spends $11K in a mere 30 minutes. And you thought she didn't have talent! Also, post-surgery, she's rather attractive. [BWE]
• According to his ex-wife, cuddly Tom Hanks is a secret hate-fucker. [Page Six]
• Christina Aguilera endures the ultimate humiliation: getting bumped from the cover of Vibe in favor of Bobby Brown. [Lowdown]
• Ian Schrager bans Paris Hilton from his Gramercy Park Hotel. What we'd give to see her drunk ass getting denied at the door. [Page Six]
• Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen also experience the sting of rejection: having failed to RSVP for a Vogue-happy party, they never got past the entryway. [Gatecrasher (2nd item)]
• Young Hollywood acts stupid, amazes masses by nonetheless walking upright. [R&M (bottom)]
Do you realize what yesterday was? SEPTEMBER THE ELEVENTH, the day of the Marc Jacobs show! Just like last fall, Jacobs kept shit real by making guests wait an hour and a half for the show to start; the 90-minute delay no doubt provided cushy arrival time for the usual front row whores: Sofia Coppola, Mischa Barton, Lil' Kim, Kate Bosworth, and a no doubt impatient Anna Wintour (though really, shouldn't she expect these Jacobsian delays?). The ever-so-important occasion was also marked by an appearance from penis-waving director Vincent Gallo, who arrived with Kim Gordon. Fabulous beautiful darling blah breathtaking fabulous can't handle air kiss luxury fabulous fabulous love love LOVE IT!
While Fashion Week is a time of creative achievement and sartorial glory, it's also a time to hold grudges and grovel for mercy. After writing an unfavorable review of Carolina Herrera's previous collection this past February, Times fashion critic Cathy Horyn was not invited to this year's show (and that's exactly what you get for insulting a designer's ruching). A bold move for Herrera — but shutting out Horyn is a fresh new approach to this season's classic minimalism.
In a seamlessly perfect melding of 9/11 paranoia and Fashion Week zeitgeist, may we present this slideshow in Vogue Italia. Entitled "State of Emergency," the Steven Meisel pictorial mostly features models getting harshly abused by uniformed security thugs. Each shot is more jaw-dropping than the last (be sure to note the nicely animated boot crushing the larynx of the lady in red). Scans may be viewed here if you can't see the slideshow. Sure, there are a few pics of the models (now indoctrinated?) undergoing weapons training, but really. At least now you'll know all the hottest couture for getting reamed across the hood of a police cruiser.
• Is it possible to feel pity for Anna Nicole Smith? Maybe, considering her 20-year-old son mysteriously died in the Bahamas on Sunday, just three days after the birth of Anna Nicole's baby girl. Now the poor woman is grieving, locked in a dark room and listening to Lightning Crashes on repeat. [CNN]
• If you hire Paris Hilton for a movie, you should probably be prepared to deal with unprofessional behavior, considering the bitch doesn't have a freaking profession to begin with. [Page Six]
• Keisha Knight Pulliam — aka Rudy from The Cosby Show — has a totally unconfirmed cocaine habit. Whatever keeps the weight off, girlfriend! [Bossip]
• Martha Stewart predicts that Trump will fire everyone until he's left cold and alone. [M&C]
• For what it's worth, Calvin Klein designer Francisco Costa was in Milan on 9/11, and feels that a lot has happened in five years, particularly his departure from Gucci. [R&M (2nd item)]
• Clothes-whoring socialite Tory Burch will survive as well. Good to know. [Lowdown]
• Brad Pitt loves Daniel Libeskind. Happy 9/11! [National Post]
Of all of Fashion Week's many miracles (not a single overdose yet!), this may be the most moving: in the still-empty front row before the Costello Tagliapetra show, Vogue editor Anna Wintour turned off her deadly force field, allowing blogger Julie Frederickson to get close enough for a quick interview. And? Wintour didn't snarl once! In fact, she thinks you all are rather uncreative. Granted, Wintour only had to endure the indignity of talking to a nobody for less than a minute before fashion week's master puppeteer, Kelly Cutrone of People's Revolution, saw what was going on and cut that shit short. Nevertheless, a major coup for Frederickson, who now has the responsibility of telling us exactly what Wintour smelled like. We really want to know! Did she have that fancy shampoo scent?
Look at these heifers! Ladies, please, cover yourselves — you're repulsively enormous. While our own New York fashion week begins its weekend of anorexia-friendly fun, the Australian Fashion Week is still roiling in the aftermath of its own little Dreyfuss Affair. Seems that designer MaraJoara decided to champion "real women" by putting a few size 8-12 models on display along with the tiny waifs who can't keep their pants up over their skeletal pelvises. Though hardly even zaftig in any normal universe, models like those above caused much squawking among the Ozzie fashionistas. Even those who grudgingly admired the feminist statement couldn't help slamming the larger lassies' amateurish catwalking. Fashion organizers supposedly tried to get the designer to kick out the size 8-12s, but she refused; even though the fleshy models are calling it a win for their team, the puckish crones of Vogue Australia deleted coverage of the MaraJoara show from their website. Giant oozing lardos who look like they might actually consume food need not apply. Approved meals may consist only of champagne, Red Bull, cigarettes, and Vicodin.
The beautiful, starving locusts of Fashion Week are descending upon us all, sucking the blood and vodka out of the city until nothing's left but a few ratty old tents and some empty bottles of champagne. The madness officially starts tomorrow, but last night Fashion Week Daily — the freebie fashion gossip publication that litters the front rows of practically every show — started things out with a soiree at Tenjune. The invite indicated that music would be provided by the MisShapes, obviously making this the sort of event worthy only of the lowest member on the company totem pole, new GawkSlave Stephanie. After the jump, she admits to destroying her camera because she was acting kinda slutty.
There's something fucktarded in the air! Courtesy of Glamour magazine and DKNY Jeans, it's the Conde Nast chopper, a jet-setting helicopter rented by the companies to make the privileged folks' trek to Fashion Week seem all the more, uh, privileged. In the days leading up to the self-important ecstasy of Bryant Park, passengers have included Mandy Moore, Sheryl Crowe, and new eyeliner advocate Jared Leto. The flight plan is as follows:
As we were perusing Style.com's extensive photo collections of Paris' current fashion week extravaganza, we couldn't help but notice the lack of "and friend" captions. Whereas the picture at right, from the Dior backstage gallery, would have once been captioned, "Kate Hudson and friend," it now simply reads, "Kate Hudson, right." (Oh, is she on the right side? Thanks, we were confused.)
• Meet Tony Danza's daughter, 18-year-old Katie. Katie's a Delta Gamma at the University of Miami. She loves Lindsay Lohan, shoes, the color pink, and building massive gravity bongs. On the bright side, this is the sort of exposure Tony Danza just can't buy. [Ignore Mag]
• You know things are looking down for Fake Writer JT Leroy when he/she/it asks Courtney Love for help finding a literary agent. [Gatecrasher]
• Jamie Foxx cuts Mary J. Blige's solo from his debut album; we're still trying to understand why, exactly, Jamie Foxx even has an album. [Lowdown]
• The newly, uh, pudgy Janet Jackson has been ordered by her record label to lose weight. Virgin refuses to release her latest album unless she drops at least 20 pouds, and they've hired her a personal trainer. Apparently, it's hard to market a corpulent pop star. [Page Six]
• Someday, Ron Perelman and Ellen Barkin will settle their divorce, and then we can judge how much she got by whatever piece of property she buys next. [R&M (2nd item)]
• One last gasp from Fashion Week: IMG security men remove veteran Times photog Bill Cunningham from Betsey Johnson's show. Johnson's pissed, but not as pissed, we're guessing, as Guy Trebay and the Styles posse. [Page Six]
• In a Valentine's Day special from hell, Dr. Phil helps Paula Abdul find love — though she allegedly already has a boyfriend. Wonder how he feels about that. [Scoop]
After a mere two days of our new And Friend feature, in which we attempt to identify the nameless companions pictured with boldfacers, Style.com seems to have taken offense. How else to explain the complete lack of front row photos from yesterday's fashion shows? Did the pretty web editors think we were making fun of them? We weren't, honestly. The "and friend" caption is everywhere, and just imagine how many worthy people have been mislabelled as the anon-a-friend when, in fact, they're in possession of some identity worthy of being named!
Stop reading now if you really don't want to know. Seriously, we're not going to tolerate any hatemail from you queens who couldn't resist reading.
We're going to continue yesterday's mission to give name to those whose identities have been otherwise snatched away: the nameless vagabonds who appear in photos with their more-famous companions and are thus captioned as "and friend." Today's selection of orphans looking to be reunited with their identities:
• The most stunning assesment of Fashion Week no comes, of course, from the Observer. A sampling: "I want to be an important person, too!" [NYO]
• Understanding international relations through the characters of the O.C. Obviously, Marissa Cooper is Iraq. [YDN]
• So now that we've cleared the air about Fake Writer James Frey's fake books, lets talk about the real money: sup with his film deals? [LAT]
• Where do we draw the line on watching porn on the subway? OK on the iPod, but not on a 4-inch screen? [Too Saucy]
• You probably won't get salmonella poisoning at the Hotel on Rivington, but it's not a guarantee. [HotelChatter]
• You'll be happy to know that Tom Ford fought tooth and nail to show us Angelina Jolie's buttcrack in the latest Vanity Fair. [Tittle-Tattle]
