While the majority of the fashion community has just begun to catch its breath from the Fashion Week marathon, L.A. has just started. Determined to make its mark, L.A. Fashion Week comes back season after season trying to make a footprint strong enough for someone -- anyone -- to see.
Being a fashion lover and native Angeleno, never really understood why fashion hasn't taken off here. We are a desert oasis with tons of space, sunshine and creative fodder to last a lifetime.
Then, I went to my first Los Angeles fashion week event... and there was my answer.
Wet Seal didn't only throw up at this place, but there was Montezuma's Revenge on it. Tweeny, teeny bloggers running around -- in hyper-sequined dresses mixed with skirts too-tight (and bright) for even the Kardashians -- made for a who's-who and what's-that of any what-not-to-wear list.
No wonder we are New York Fashion Week's ugly stepsister. I, an industry professional and proud West Hollywood-ite, was even forced to dip my head in disappointment for this expression of our industry. The whole night I ached to pat the proverbial head of Los Angeles fashion. "Nice try darling, but if you really want to up your game, you need to stop endorsing the past-prime girls of Toddlers and Tiaras and probably put on a little less rouge."
The truth is, fashion won't start to take L.A. seriously until Los Angeles takes fashion seriously.
Small strides have been made with the launch of high-caliber, editorial-driven media such as C Magazine and the glossy upgrade of the Hollywood Reporter, but then L.A. Fashion Week comes along and trounces over the progress with it's neon platform shoes and sparkle leggings.
I get it -- we are normally a juniors and contemporary-driven market, but that market is changing. Our back pockets are teeming with possibility -- Hollywood is around the corner; celebrity stylists are no longer behind-the-scenes fairy godmothers but personalities with syndicated talk shows, and luxury companies such as Rodarte, Halston and possibly even Saint Laurent (fingers crossed!) are popping up all around the 405.
Yet, here we are over-hyping avant garde, tween-centric events and passing it off as real fashion.
What our industry needs is a hard slap from Miranda Priestly. The "it's not-blue-it's-cerulean (duh)" kind. One that will force Los Angeles to glamorously (and tastefully) dress up its currently un-pedicured toes and strut the runway like they mean it.
As the saying goes...perception is everything and, Los Angeles, it is time to pony up.