After six months of pretending to have half a clue about fashion I found myself attending the Rosemount Australian Fashion Week Transeasonal 2008. Luckily for me I manage to tag along with the Vogue Online team. Originally the deal was for me to provide technical support in the media room, but that fell apart. Nonetheless my ticket remained valid.
Although the week is really three days of stretched out shows. The white horse of designers in this event is Alex Perry. Better known for wearing sunglasses on his shinny head day or night. Prior to shows, people have drinks. A lot of them. Unfortunately the bar at the OPT was only serving two types of beer: light and the golden bottle of Australia's worst beer, Crown Lager. I was thirsty and not driving oneself home so I stuck to no bodies mate Crown Lager.
The Vogue posse managed to answer my fashion victim questions whilst glancing at lovely long legs and familiar faces. Sophie Falkiner was lapping it up for the camera and Lil John got rejected enticing local girls to a private party.
Lining up the for Perry show we pass the publicity photo booth where celebrities line up to be blinded by camera flashes. It's interesting that they line up. The likes of John Steffensen and Lizzy Lovette file in like cattle waiting to be prodded. Next I find my reserved seat in the fourth row of five.
Obviously the front rows either side of the catwalk are full of apparent celebrities. Including line drawer Michelle Leslie, David Jones good girl Megan Gale and hair frolicker Joh Bailey. The most exciting part of the night was the pre-show gee up. Everyone is almost settled, lights dim and the catwalk illuminates blue.
The music rolls, the Perry name appears, lights thrust themselves on and the models start there descent. With summer virtually on our door step one would expect to be entertained with the latest summer apparel, swimwear. Transeasonal means the threads worn in the spot between autumn and winter or something like that. With my hope of a night of naval gazing abolished I wiped away my tears and continued to watch the toothpick show.
As expected the models all looked the same, leaning so far back that walking was used as a way of avoiding permanent back injury. Some were on a mission to complete the catwalk in record time. Leaving me with only single non ghosted picture (which in itself is a hopeless picture). Lastly, one model almost cracked a smile.
Within 10 minutes the show is over and we are searching for more beverages. With the Vogue playmates I join in on which outfits Bloke Vogue gives the thumbs up to. Oddly I only decided on two after I saw the back of them. One tuxedo jacket had a clearly defined (almost chalk like) white lines lines on the back. The other was a Matrix style green jacket. Looking online, I can only guess which ones they are.
After polishing off a few more brown lemonades the after party become a drought so we headed home. I preplanned my next day: come into work fashionably late.