Gupdate VI: New York Fashion Squeak
My perspective on insider glamour, childhood mocktails, and a metric ton of rhinestones.
Hello beloved reader, and welcome back to Gupdate. I’d like to tell you a story about an experience I had, and I’d like you to take it for just what it is: a story about clothes. No more and no less.
The story starts in my childhood. Since I was a little girl I’ve dreamt of attending a fashion show, ideally one that gives generous gift bags. This desire began in middle school (when most healthy desires start). On long Saturday afternoons I would flip through my mother’s glossy magazines like they were dispatches from an alien planet. The self-contained spreads in Vogue and Bazaar looked like pure, unfiltered glamor to me (and I knew glamor– I had blonde highlights I’d done from a box). They were a far cry from my home in Seattle, a place so devoid of fashion it exerts its own gravitational pull on people who love to wear toe-shoes.1
I wanted to cross over– to be glamorous, to be fun, to do fashion! I was aware I couldn’t actually go into that Otherworld world yet. Though I was tall and thin, I was also 11, and just a touch sweaty for the runway. Instead I’d have to bring the fashion to me. The best way to do this was to recreate iconic spreads using my personal wardrobe. I’d swap Chanel tweeds with some Old Navy jeans and throw a Goodwill tee on top, style that with some $1 flips flops and a heavy swipe of tingly lipgloss.2 Then me and my two weirdo friends would put a music video on the DVR and designate a “runway” in my half-flooded unfinished basement. Strut, strut, strut: Now this was what real glamor looked like! The other 6th grade girls could never, and if they could I wouldn’t know about it, because I wasn’t invited to their houses, which was FINE, because I was having lots of fun at home. Fashion is very exclusive.
And for a long time, that was enough. Magazines, thrift finds, apple juice sipped from a plastic champagne flute. Then, at my college in New York, my roommate had an internship in fashion. I’d known New York was a Fashion Capitol, but I didn’t realize the clothes would be real. Like, they weren’t on the page anymore. You could pick them up and touch them! My roommate would bring home dresses heavy with glass beads and lay them gingerly on her dorm bed. I would perch at a distance and stare at the garments with dark hungry eyes. I was like a gay crow.3 I wanted the sparkly thing and I wanted it on my body. My roommate would say isn’t this beautiful it’s vintage and I would say rrreeeee….. Guurkkkk… Caw caw. Then I would take a jealousy nap and dream of a fabulous life.
Here’s how those dreams would go: It’s my first New York Fashion Week and I’ve been invited by a designer I lo-o-ove. Maybe it’s a trendy, scrappy, next-big-thing brand, the kind where you’ve never heard of it, then you stumble upon a signature collection on Instagram and you’re like “oh so that’s why all these skinny girls are wearing plastic bags for shoes”. Then as soon as someone else hasn’t heard of said brand you get to be like You don’t know Margo Bierret? That’s so sad for you, they’re THE next big thing, they’re a Scaninavian-Peruvian design house making waves with their experimental knits…
Or maybe my first fashion week I’m walking in the show. I used to model, which you may or may not know, I almost never talk about it except when I do (all the time). So maybe I get to be groundbreaking in some way like Augusta Chapman is the first ever size 8 to walk in this show, we are finally representing REAL bodies on the runway, and then everyone gets mad because a size 8 is just an infinity symbol turned sideways and besides I look just like every other girl who moved to New York from LA with a long stopover in Maine. Maybe a backstage video of me goes viral and gay teens duet it and critique my walk. They’re scathing, but honey, they’re right!
This isn’t exactly how it happened. When do our dreams happen how we thought they would? But– but- it happened! It happened. That’s right: this Gupdate is a reveal that I went to a show at New York Fashion Week. 11 year old Augusta eat your heart out (I do it all for her).
Here is how it happened. My good friend Eva said “hey do you want to go to this fashion show with me?” and I said “yeah for sure” and so did our friend Hannah. We RSVP’d for free online. Our online tickets had sparkling glitter graphics, which felt promising. A good sign. I felt the crow in my brain growing stronger. Then when we got there the people at the door seemed very confused by our tickets. One woman said they have like– sparkles on them? and I didn’t even peck her. Despite the confusion they let us in anyway, because the show was running 45 minutes late and we were all wearing fabulous shoes.
Now I want to practice something. Will you humor me? I’m going to cover my first New York Fashion Week like a reporter for Vogue Runway. Just like I used to read.
Jessica Jade
Spring Summer 2022
“The New York skyline glitters just for you.” Vogue printed that quote in 1923. And that ethos was on full display at the Jessica Jade Spring Summer 2022 Show. The theme was “Welcome to New York”, and what a welcome it was. Small groups of glamorous influencers clustered in front of the raised catwalk, illuminated by a rainbow of LED lights. For 45 minutes we waited as a DJ on a wireless microphone asked us to please clear the showroom so the Jessica Jade show could begin, but we were there to see Jessica Jade, so we chose to stay put and enjoy the ambiance. “You should leave even though you know you belong here.” What a perfect summary of New York, and also a perfect summary of the feeling Jessica Jade created with her stunning SS22 collection.
The clothes on display this season were fabulous. Every garment was covered in rhinestones from top to bottom, which is a Jade signature. The looks were New York themed, making playful reference to iconic NYC visuals without dipping into heavy-handed camp. A yellow-and-red polka dot dress played with proportion so that it resembled a slice of pizza. A backless black gown was embroidered with subway line logos. Two models walking in perfect sync showed off cocktail dresses with waist pieces that read I’mWalkinHere and Fuhgattaboutit. There was even a Statue of Liberty who strutted off the stage to a standing ovation.
Though some might decry the collection as syrupy or over-the-top, it is actually an engagement with these qualities that make Jade’s designs sing. Costumes require a degree of humor, a sly wink that acknowledges the role of the performer is different than that of the audience. This understanding is part of why Jade’s clothes are so coveted by performers and celebrities. In a world over-wrought with severity, a light laugh has a beauty all its own.
Alright, well, I won’t pitch it to Vogue right away, but at least you guys can see it. It’s all about making yourself happy, you know?
I hope you get an idea from that of what the fashions were like. I really mean the part of about winking. These clothes were So Funny. Actually here’s a joke I wrote while I was at the show. Q: Why don’t more clothes have a sense of humor? A: They’re too afraid of getting the hook! That’s an obscure punchline that could refer to hook-and-eye closures or hanging stuff in a closet. I’ll let you judge it, since you judge basically everything else around here, but trust that I’m not gonna open with it.
Here’s some aspects of the show that got cut from my review. I thought that the runway would be all there was, because that’s all I see in the pictures, but actually there was just so much happening. First of all and most importantly, the drinks were a billion dollars and change, and they came in REUSABLE CAMPING MUGS. Isn’t that super glamorous? The company making the mugs sponsored the show for some unknown reason. We also sat next to a different show sponsor and she was so kind and she told me about how her company had done Paris Fashion Week before but New York felt different, felt exciting, felt so new. Her company is Scarves & Fedoras. Scarves… And… Fedoras! I just want to take some space to plug that here. Check it out if you need scarves or if you need fedoras. Just tell them Gus sent you.
Though it was interesting to see the clothes, the best part was the people. Some people are just so glamorous it feels impossible that we share an earth with them. It might have been the Beyonce remixes, but as I watched a woman with a 40 inch blonde mullet sway and shimmer under the lights, I thought that’s a Bass Pro Shop Legolas. Half the crowd wore diamond chokers. Half of that half wore Shein. There were princess dresses, tutu couture, pageboy caps, pink plastic heels, back tattoos that said love and light, ruffles, corsets, and hand-sewn zippers. A man sitting at a VIP table wore a trucker hat that said Global Minister of Fashion. And, at that moment, I believed he was.
At the end of the night my friends and I strolled back out onto the street, clutching the reusable tumblers we’d been gifted in swag bags. Midtown was busy and Broadway was bright and I had a sugar headache from two bottom shelf cosmos. But in my heart I knew: I’d just had a true New York Experience. It’s true that at the start I didn’t know the designer and I didn’t actually walk in the show. And it’s true that I still don’t fully “get” fashion. But I did get a free branded tumbler, and in this town of big dreams, can’t that be enough?
P.S. If you know a good casting director, call me.
If you liked this week’s Gupdate, why not share it with a friend? Because all your friends are mad at me and also everyone hates me? I get that. Honestly, I get that.
I don’t mean Margiela’s tabi boots. I mean the toe shoes that are worn by runners. This distinction is hard to explain because trail runners and Margiela wearers overlap only in a few pockets of the world, namely Montreal and Colorado.
I now understand that this was an allergy. At the time I assumed it was “plumping”.
I still am.
I will share this because "Bass Pro Shop Legolas". 🤣
Coffee giggle spit sneak attack.