New York Fashion Week is old news. It’s been almost two weeks since it ended; the fashion world has swept through London, is finishing off in Milan as we speak and will end the month in Paris. I’m still here in New York, though, reveling in the joys that NYFW brought to me. Let me tell you a story. On February 12th, I went down to the Exit Art Gallery on 10th Avenue for the Geoffrey Mac runway show. It was a small venue with only three rows on either side of the catwalk, leaving me with a second row seat. Livin’ the high life. Despite my tights-covered legs, I was still shivering in my glitter platforms.
The show began about fifteen or twenty minutes later than the invitation said (better than Tibi, who left us hanging for a solid forty minutes), and as soon as the first model stepped out on to the catwalk I was transported backwards and forwards in time, simultaneously. How is this possible, you may ask? The clothes were futuristic and ultramodern, but the hair, make-up and accessories were screaming “1960s.” I couldn’t really hear them all too well, though, because the DJ was blasting that music. I could almost feel the beat playing in my body and said sensation brought me back to the dark bar/bat mitzvah days of 7th and 8th grade (this is the point at which I shuddered involuntarily). But if I could hear them, that’s what they’d be saying. There were oodles and noodles of sweeping turquoise and yellow eyeshadow paired with intense cat-eye liner and pumped up lashes; plenty of hairspray and probably a few Bump-Its were employed to reach that volume of hair. Even though people have been saying that the wedge is over and pointy-toed pumps are taking over, Geoffrey Mac begs to differ.
There were a lot of bright colors: turquoise (a suspected pre-fall trend as well), yellow and red among them, but there was also a great deal of black and white (a color palette that dominated at Alexander Wang). There was leather and latex and pointy apparatuses protruding from hips and shoulders, not unlike the Devil-inspired bones on Lady Gaga’s body. Hemlines were short, many skirts were tight. There were a few swing dresses with a shocking red lining for a bit of fun. There were also plenty of structured looks, too, keeping the garments away from being labeled “retro.” The whole collection was reminiscent of Swinging London in the sixties on drugs. I guess that’s not saying much, since one really implies the other. But just imagine that environment on even more drugs.
Above all, however, there was an overarching message of connecting the past with the present and linking it all to the future—it shows how we can look at what has happened before but we can’t dwell on it: we must move forward and do something new. By combining Brigitte Bardot and Lady Gaga into each look, it successfully merges the two time periods together into one modern and fresh collection. Snaps for Geoffrey, everyone.
Images via geoffreymac.net