Francesca Belluomini

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7 reasons why you should forget everything you know about New York fashion week

 

Should George Orwell have assisted the Fall Winter 2015 New York Fashion Week, he would have opened the book like this:

'It was a bright cold day in [February], and the clocks were striking [ten] [when the temperatures dropped to one]'.

When your first time at New York Fashion Week is because you got invited to attend a Carolina Herrera runway show at Lincoln Center, it's Valentine's Day, it will be the coldest NYC winter weekend in twenty years and "50 Shade of Grey" opens in theaters: it's like an apocalyptic version of '1984'. 

There's life before and after a #NYFW

My first fashion job was at Pitti Donna (I know right? other generation, decades ago), then I graduated to Milan Fashion Week, traveled to Paris a couple of times for Paris Fashion Week. New York only matrialized in my itineraries in 2015. 

I would be dishonest to dismiss the excitement, despite the almost half a century of anagraphic years on my shoulders, I felt like Eloise at the Plaza. Actually I was. 

The collection really walks down the runway

The real Karlie Kloss opened and closed the show and it's a statement: nothing more magical, she owns the crowd, the catwalk with the power of her smile (body, legs, stature,posture,walk). You must come to terms that it's no livestream, you are standing there, you end up breathing in every second through your pores. It's the smell of fresh plastic lined up on the pristine catwalk, a vague mix of blowdried hair and make-up. 

 

Carolina Herrera is the undiscussed Queen of New York Fashion Week and all you can expect was delivered.

Professionalisms from the way A-listers are seated to the grace and elegance of her appearance on the catwalk wearing her signature impeccably pressed white blouse.

What happened in between was flawless fashion by the book, where traditional sophistication meets digital prints while following and mimicking the waves that the water makes. Curvaceous lines were the fil rouge that tied the looks as they were appearing on the catwalk. 

The massive use of flats all throughout the presentation was a regreshing and modern statement, a very #theItalianway one: you don't need heels to feel elegant or make a look so. 

You expect creativity, not a potlock of the best of in a huge meatloaf. 

Inspiration, attention to detail, luxury are all ingredients that weren't spared. 

Bravo!

It feels like winter

  • The prohibitive (inhumane)  temperatures shock your flesh, at least those segments of flesh exposed when the doors open to the street, and it's exhilarating, refreshing (baad pun) and invigorating. You are ready to make it. 
  • The Nivea handcream in the compact round blue and white tin is your life saviour.
  • How about when 'smoke' comes out of your nose and mouth even if you don't speak? It reminded me of when we were kids and pretent to mimick our parents smoking, it puts a smile on my face: I was in a pretent world like when I was a child. 
  • I dreamed for this to happen, I went through years of FOMO, actually only the Missing Out part of the acronym. I wanted to attent a a gashion week fall edition because I wanted to proof to everyone and reassure myself that I am not a #thatssoMiami pal clueless of what winter is. 

The real numbers

 

  • 11 years without seeing snow falling. DONE
  • 5 pairs of shoes brought for three days, a record of editing
  • 3 layers of legwear worn contemporarily, never happened to me before (at the time of press, before living in Miami, I lived in Milan, Florence, London, Manchester, Grenoble, visited Venice, Paris, Brighton, New York several times in the winter, so I am not really an islander)
  • 4 hot chocolates unregretfully drank in one afternoon
  • Can we have brunch at 10 and lunch at 1? because we did, regardless the strict fasting rules of fashion week
  • the times I thought I had the perfect outfit and I didn't? countless
  • The times I was able to fix the wrong look? this calls for arctic polar expedition on heels survival manual and equals the above

What should a fashion week NOT be about but goes viral

This is my Edna Mode corner of stating the facts. 

All opinions are mine and I encourage you to dispute, discuss, rant and disagree with me: GO!

  • constructed, manipulated, sponsored street style: must say New York and Milan are infested by it and you must stay away from them like the weed or you end up getting caught in the net of the "bananas", "amazing", "fabulous", ohh and ahh 
  • scams: this video and this video show the unfair amount of insolence, ignorance, pretense and clueless presumption we are surrounded by. How many do you know who may very well be in awe of Betsy Ross stars and stripes theme? 
  • stylists/rappers/reality TV starlettes improvised designers. Ever stopped for a second to wonder what do  Alexander McQueen, John Galliano and Oscar de la Renta have in common? Studying, appreticeship, practice, talent, genius, patience, inspiration, dedication, passion, elegance, style, determination. A real, full, complete, hefty, mesmerizing collection comes down the runway fathered by hard work, technical knowledge, expertise, research, history, legacy. Then stylists help put it together for someone else to wear. In other words, a spaceship cannot be lauched by someone who went to Cape Canaveral on a field trip.  
  • was it a New York Fashion Weak to say it with my fellow Italian compat Angelo Flaccavento at Business of Fashion? For as much as I am grateful and forever humbled by having had the chance to be at New York Fashion Week, there are very few moments worth chills or standing ovations. Fashion is not sameness, copy-cat, mocking, aspirational, fast, approximate, DYI. Fashion is not what people see from the outside: a bunch of crazy outfits, people being photographed in the streets and outside Lincoln Center 

I am one of the lucky ones to have had the honor to attend one a few of the real exceptions: i am proud of it as a passionate of all-things fashion and a fashion writer. 

Thank you for letting me tell you my version of it.