One Day in Fashion Week Paris

Gosh, what’s there to say really? It’s a whole bunch of models and clothes running around, being watched by people who need a serious reality-check. Afterwards, though, there’s always the parties.

So, after checking with Voin on Tuesday afternoon, we ran by the Chapel in the Beaux Arts, like I mentioned in the earlier blog. What I didn’t mention was that inside the Beaux Arts itself was a fashion show, a défilé as they like to call it, by Costume National. Of course, after the show, we raided the room for the “modem” which is the guide to the Fashion week, giving all the clues on parties and shows. Voin snatched a copy, and that’s that…now he’s got his party list for every night of the week.

Myself, fashion week didn’t really start until last night, and I think it ends there too.


Part 1 – In a chic hotel with Coke

The day being slightly shitty, and feeling a little unmotivated, still, manage to find Voin and head off to the Hotel Continental, just off Place Vendôme. (that’s where the Ritz and all those other mega-chic hotels are all located) He has a designer ladyfriend, his ‘original crush,’ who had rented a room there for a couple of days to show off her prêt-a-porter collection. After trying to sneak into a room to steal free champagne, and then finding the room (which was weirdly full of girls in pretty-girl outfits saying ‘hello’), find the designer ladyfriend, who then offers us coke (a cola) and chocolates. They speak for a bit…

I’m just bored, and the fashion isn’t what I’d spend money on. It’s like all blousy and gossamer with sequins sewn in, the type of shit Hong Kong has been ripping out for the last 4 years. So…duh, why would I pay 300Eu for something I know I can buy in Chinatown for 5 bucks?

On our way out, Voin stole a nice silver coffee pot that was sitting outside in après-room service mode. He stuffed it into his bag, in a horizontal position. This is an important detail to remember for the rest of this story.


Part 2 – Big Equipment, the Materials you need

Still though, she’s nice. Anyways, we’ll be seeing more of her later. Right now, it’s off to see the Materials show, which was jam packed full of twenty/thirtysomethings, very hip and rock and roll conscious. Just waiting outside was fun. Everybody saying hello, and being very friendly. Was offered two joints, and got introduced to many interesting looking boys, some of which were straight!!! (even with their fashion digs) One boy in particular, the Turkish connection, music-maker, very long fringe, was very charming…but he told me he was going back to Istanbul on Sunday. Darn.

The show was ok, lots of ripped shit, and suspenders and stuff. It was like that whole layered slouchy t-shirt thing all over again…but the boys were in very very tight jeans. At the end of the show, the models did this little walkaround. There was this tall guy, wearing the tight tight jeans, with his hair pushed back. A very arrogant nose and very noble voluptuous lips, all topped with some crazy Czech spong-do, and he stopped and looked right at me. At first I thought, well, it’s the game isn’t it? But shit…NO, that’s when I remembered he’s this crazy friend of Voin’s who hit on me at this industrial party…he invited us to another party, and then we disappeared. Shit! So I just looked away.

After the show, gave big hugs to Wolfie, German stylist boy who I met at the Louvre two days ago. Poor boy has the flu for fashion week, so only small amounts of coke for him! The Turkish Connection asked me to wait for him, but we were running out the door, so couldn’t. Managed to avoid the Noble Lips, but was a little intrigued by his staring contest. Wonder if he will snub me or be friendly the next time? Then talked to Wolfie about Noble Lips, and he said,

-oh my gawt! Das guy has the BEEG equipment. Vee saw him vithout his pants on…if dat’s what it’s like on vacation, I vanna see what he’s like excited!”

OH MY GOD! To think I just passed up on that! It’s like the whole fucking Bago story again!


Part 3 – Making art at the art-opening

So we sent to this stupid invitation-only art opening afterwards, at some gallery or another in the Marais. It was all like conceptual with mirrors and metal bars, like weird jungle gym for fashion victims. The bar was hot-packed because it was, sigh, OPEN BAR!!! The show was hosted by martini, so was drinking free Martinis all the nightl long. Martini Bianco with apple juice, and Schweppes, Martini Russo…yada yada yada. Packed into corner with Wolfie, and met Stephanie and Kim, and Julia too. Julia’s got a funny connection with me…old Toronto girl, but also the cousin of one of my best friends in France (weird???).

We were all having a good time, I put my hands against the wall, and suddenly realized that there was lettraset words all over the place…you know, the shit you scratch and then it appears on the other side. Anyways, what was written was the words EVE all in a column, about 9 words deep, and across the fifth was attached an N on the left and a R on the right. Anyways, with my sweaty hands and scratchy nails, managed to inadvertently scratch off the N. Whoops!!!

Anyways, I’m an artist, so it’s ok. And take credit that whatever harm was really done, at least it was in the name of feminism!

Then Voin starting hooting and screaming. Yes, the stupid coffee pot finally dripped out its stupid coffee, drenching the bottom of his bag, and all his fake documents, as well as, making a HUGE STAIN all over the red designer felt seat he was on. Was terrible mess. Julia finds him a plastic bag, stuffs all his shit inside and we hightail it out of there. Then we hear the terrible scream of the woman responsible for the gallery…so primal, so raw!

Have to say this his dark nasty coffee stain was an improvement on what was kind of a dull Dutch designer chair. And think my little improvement was good too. All in all, we are both such good artists that bad art calls out of the deep out inner child to go trampling all over that dull garden.


Part 4 – the Pulp and real Coke
There was a wine bar interlude, next to the Canal Saint-Martin. Designer Ladyfriend’s husband bought us wonderful bottle of Chardonnay. But the guy is really coked up, even if he’s nice. The neighbours pour water into the plants to get us to stop screaming on the corner, but it doesn’t work because we move to the other side and continue drinking our expensive wine. That’s when suddenly the nasty white stuff makes its appearance.

I have to say that coke is one of the drugs I never got into, or never want to get into. I took it three times, and each time, while the high was pretty fantastic, afterwards I felt like a complete asshole.
The wine bar was chic, people were getting taken backstage for a whiff, the mood changed.

Then we headed off to the Pulp to party. But was thoroughly bored, too crowded, and the scene is not what I’d call funny…just young and snobbish. So, no fun for us. Then these stupid eurotrash electro-idiots started to play, and it reminded me of whole annoying Chicks on Speed Halifax incident, and suddenly felt like vomiting all my cheap vodka all over them.

Left to go home and sleep.


Epilogue: Wrap-up

What’s to say? Some fun incidents, some good moments, but generally a let down. They say Fashionweek in Paris has lost some money. The parties are smaller…like, it used to be that the Dior party was the party of parties…now it’s the Nike party???!!! I wished I’d gone to see more of the smaller shows, because at least the crowd there is more fun. And now I’m going to buy bay leaves so I can stay at home and marinate my boeuf bourguignon.