My day was made when I learnt that over 100 people had visited my blog, and I was going to the ball! David Tlale didn’t invite me to his show, which stands to reason, because I don’ t wear his clothes. Anyway, the word was that his show was going to be the hottest thing of fashion week, taking place on Nelson Mandela Bridge, with international celebs on the catwalk and all that jazz. Ok, not exactly international celebs, as we should be impressed by international celebs. Not Denzel, Jamie Fox, or anyone like that. Actually they are soapy celebs from The Bold and the Beautiful, I know, I know, but naturally I wanted to go when I heard about that. Well, it would have been unfrivolous of me not to want to go.
Last night I was chatting to a ‘friend’ and I told her that she was looking fabulous. She was, she was looking totally fabulous. Anyway, her response to me was, ‘I have to work at it, I have to keep my husband interested’. I keep thinking about that. She has to keep her husband interested? I don’t know, I’ve never had a husband, but I hope in my relationships I have been loved because I’m loved and loved with depth, regardless of how I look. Shame.
Fashion Week. Tlale Show on Nelson Mandela Bridge. We are scared of being honest. That is the only explanation. That is the only possible explanation for anyone to walk out of that ‘experience’ on Nelson Mandela Bridge, smile into my face and say in all seriousness, ‘wasn’t it a great show’. And I don’t understand how a designer gets it into his head that his collection of indifferent, unoriginal dresses are of such importance that 300 people must sit and wait in the cold for over two hours in order to look at them. I think this designer has lost the plot.
What is the point of a fashion show? Is it to provide the designer with an opportunity to indulge a narcissistic certainty of his allegorical brilliance? Are we there to pay some kind of homage? No, we are actually there to view a collection from which we can hopefully find items that will enhance our wardrobes. We are there to see art, sometimes a little theatrics, and clothes, and ultimately, hopefully to engage in the time honoured, trade exchange of sale and purchase. A fashion show is a marketing tool. What kind of marketing is it to torture your potential clients by making them sit and freeze their butts off for more than two hours because, though they can be bothered to be on time, you cannot? What kind of marketing is it to set yourself, and your vainglorious pretentions above the comfort and convenience of your audience, your potential clients? It is ridiculous. One thing is for damn sure; you don’t get people to purchase your frocks through excruciation. Xca!