Here at OC, we are struck by how often we end up in everyday conundrums. The ones that land you in the thick of semi (or full-blown) awkwardness, or maybe, the doghouse.
So, we turned to Simon Collins, the dean of the School of Fashion at Parsons, who after six years in his plum perch, just announced plans to step down at the end of this year. Translation: More time to wax poetic on what he's learned after three decades (!) of Fashion Week.
Q: This is nearly your 30th year attending Fashion Week. Tell us about show etiquette, shades vs. no shades, seat assignments, et al.
My first Fashion Week was London September 1985, and, yes, I was a child prodigy in case you’re wondering how I’ve kept my boyish good looks. Bodymap, John Galliano, Katharine Hamnett, and Parachute are the shows I remember most clearly. I was mesmerized by Bodymap models lying on the runway and rolling down its length. Helen Terry singing a capella. Random celebs upping their cred with catwalk cameos. London couldn’t have cared less about global fashion and corporations.
Since then I’ve wandered in and out of more global Fashion Weeks than it would be polite to mention. Along the way I’ve picked up one or two tips that help me get through the beautiful punishment that is the fashion circus.
First and foremost: Prosecco is nothing less than headache in a bottle, so don’t drink it. What’s that got to do with runways you may wonder? Well, the fact is most of the important conversations take place at the after-party and that’s where you encounter Satan’s sparkling terror. Only drink Champagne.
Take off your sunglasses before the show starts because you are not Anna Wintour. Are the lights too bright for you? Do you prefer muted colors? Or do you have a massive, epic, cataclysmic hangover? The latter night gives you a pass; the former two, no.
If you don’t have a front-row seat then hang around 'til 90 percent are seated, the PRs will then be poised to "fill in" seats and you can slip your perfectly trousered behind down next to the best looking person in the room. And if you get busted, try saying "one of the PRs told me to sit here," and then move immediately. It’s work and you have to respect that.
There are some PRs who can tell me to get up and go home, and I will do just that, because I know they have my best interests at heart. There are others for whom I won't give the time of day. If you’ve seen the moment in the Bill Cunningham documentary where he gets denied entry outside a Paris show then you’ve seen bad PR in action.
And so to the subject of seatmates. I’ve had noisy ones, pushy ones, stinky ones, striking ones, and ones I’d like to strike. A particularly obnoxious situation is when a current celeb sits two places away from your seat, you get crushed like a beetle in the paparazzi chaos, and they are not always polite. Recently I sat next to a young woman only to discover she is the foxy one in this year’s most salacious pop video... my toes were crushed. Then there was the time my seatmate asked me about my job, and ended up inviting me onto her network telly show that evening. Of course, best of all is when you happen to lock eyes across a runway with someone that makes you
So, we turned to Simon Collins, the dean of the School of Fashion at Parsons, who after six years in his plum perch, just announced plans to step down at the end of this year. Translation: More time to wax poetic on what he's learned after three decades (!) of Fashion Week.
Q: This is nearly your 30th year attending Fashion Week. Tell us about show etiquette, shades vs. no shades, seat assignments, et al.
My first Fashion Week was London September 1985, and, yes, I was a child prodigy in case you’re wondering how I’ve kept my boyish good looks. Bodymap, John Galliano, Katharine Hamnett, and Parachute are the shows I remember most clearly. I was mesmerized by Bodymap models lying on the runway and rolling down its length. Helen Terry singing a capella. Random celebs upping their cred with catwalk cameos. London couldn’t have cared less about global fashion and corporations.
Since then I’ve wandered in and out of more global Fashion Weeks than it would be polite to mention. Along the way I’ve picked up one or two tips that help me get through the beautiful punishment that is the fashion circus.
First and foremost: Prosecco is nothing less than headache in a bottle, so don’t drink it. What’s that got to do with runways you may wonder? Well, the fact is most of the important conversations take place at the after-party and that’s where you encounter Satan’s sparkling terror. Only drink Champagne.
Take off your sunglasses before the show starts because you are not Anna Wintour. Are the lights too bright for you? Do you prefer muted colors? Or do you have a massive, epic, cataclysmic hangover? The latter night gives you a pass; the former two, no.
If you don’t have a front-row seat then hang around 'til 90 percent are seated, the PRs will then be poised to "fill in" seats and you can slip your perfectly trousered behind down next to the best looking person in the room. And if you get busted, try saying "one of the PRs told me to sit here," and then move immediately. It’s work and you have to respect that.
There are some PRs who can tell me to get up and go home, and I will do just that, because I know they have my best interests at heart. There are others for whom I won't give the time of day. If you’ve seen the moment in the Bill Cunningham documentary where he gets denied entry outside a Paris show then you’ve seen bad PR in action.
And so to the subject of seatmates. I’ve had noisy ones, pushy ones, stinky ones, striking ones, and ones I’d like to strike. A particularly obnoxious situation is when a current celeb sits two places away from your seat, you get crushed like a beetle in the paparazzi chaos, and they are not always polite. Recently I sat next to a young woman only to discover she is the foxy one in this year’s most salacious pop video... my toes were crushed. Then there was the time my seatmate asked me about my job, and ended up inviting me onto her network telly show that evening. Of course, best of all is when you happen to lock eyes across a runway with someone that makes you