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Taking A Partial Hiatus…

DAHLINGS –

After giving the matter much thought, your faithful correspondent shall be taking a partial hiatus from her blog-thing. There shall still be recapping television shows, perhaps reviewing some films, and as always, writing about plus-size issues.

Please do not worry that this means anything significant. Merely that if I can’t be as fabulous as necessary, I need to slow down.

I am not able to attend Mercedes Benz Fashion Week this year, so there will be no coverage. It is strongly suggested that you read one of the fine blogs listed on the right.

Ciao,

Elisa & Fletcher

Fashion Week, S/S 2012 Day Four

DAHLINGS –

I have little to write about Day Four of Mercedes Benz Fashion Week. It was the tenth anniversary of the destruction of the Twin Towers on September 11th. Even though the torrent of media jibber-jabber and one-day-only patriotism incensed moi, it seemed disrespectful to go to the tents.

Instead, I went to the Firemen’s Memorial Ceremony on 100th Street.

Because of that, I missed Diane von Furstenberg, Custo Barcelona, and Tommy Hilfiger, among others.

No regrets.

Ciao,
Elisa

Fashion Week, S/S 2012 Days Two and Three

DAHLINGS –

An article in the past week’s New York Times by the estimable Cathy Horyn spoke of Fashion Week’s “Split Personality.” The real excitement is apparently downtown, where the young and tragically hip mix together. Uptown is far more staid, conventional, and…

Frankly, boring.

With its new, shiny, computerized approach, Lincoln Center may well have become a far less interesting mass-market version of an exclusive French dressmaker’s salon. (If that last sentence made sense to you, 15 points.)

For example, a photographer I know, Mohammed Kasim, cannot get into the tents any more. Season after season we found each other in the tents. Kasim likes to photograph the wanna-bes prowling the outer tent, every shimmer and spangle on their outfits screaming LOOK AT ME. However, neither the wanna-bes nor Kasim are allowed in. Not even strange little Painted Suit man was to be seen. A woman who went to great lengths to be mistaken for Lady Gaga never made it inside, either. Daily she was to be seen in one hideously elaborate outfit or another, but her tiny button nose gave away the game. No matter, dozens of tourists snapped her photo.

As for the fashion? Much of it was mundane. The Luca Luca show offered pretty colors, prints and soft fabrics. And not much else. (One knows a show is in trouble when the thing you lust after is the shoes. Mon Dieu, the shoes!) Honestly, how does one review a show when that’s all there is to say? It was pretty. Some of it might feel nice. End of story. The models were all, as usual, appallingly thin. So much so that their lack of thigh fat made them look bowlegged.












One is certain that the models would have vomited up the tiny 4 oz. cups of free “kefir” if they’d tried to eat them. And not because the product was that bad.

Nicole Miller’s collection, well.

The intarsia knit prints were loud. And I despised them. But maybe I am not their target demographic. Apparently the designer was inspired by the speed of a skateboard “shredding the air.” If there is a woman out there who has a fervent desire to dress as an elderly skateboarder, this collection is for you.













Vivienne Tam’s show was also a parade of pretty, soft fabrics and soft, wearable dresses. She has a weakness for orchids, and the design of the petals was embroidered, cut out, or detailed on skirts and the front of dresses. I enjoyed it by far the most, and I’m sure they will do well in the stores. But…

Perhaps I am too much of a classicist. But if I am, why did so many of the shows leave me with such a feeling of ennui?

Coming up: the Emmy’s Best and Worst Dressed, Plus Size Model Magazine’s Special Blogger Event, and more Fashion Week!

Ciao,

Elisa

Fashion Week Spring/Summer 2012, Day One

DAHLINGS –

Last Thursday kicked off the festivities for Mercedes Benz Spring/Summer 2012 Fashion Week, held in the tents at Lincoln Center. The lobby tent resembles a car dealership more than anything else. The impression is reinforced by the two Mercedes Benz automobiles parked on either side.

In keeping with the new austerity, the sponsors had drastically cut down their offerings. Chambord was no longer. There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth over the loss of the bar and consequent free drinks.

Frappucino was also not to be found. That sat well with moi. I missed the McCafe at Bryant Park, where huge sweet coffee drinks with whipped cream and chocolate sauce kept me going throughout the day. Tresemme’ is still there. But instead of shampoo and conditioner, they are offering dry shampoo. Pardon my lack of excitement. The Maybelline stand, formerly generous with its offerings, allowed you to pick one item. I remember two seasons ago running in without my lipstick. The lovely lady there gave me two, one for before and one after 5 pm. No such luck now. However, I did choose the Maybelline Falsies mascara. The two lipsticks offered were coral and fuchsia, the two colors I cannot wear.

Arizona set up large coolers of various tea drinks and the most nauseating virgin pina colada I have ever gagged down. There is never free food (nobody eats at Fashion Week), but there was a café at the perimeter where one could pay ridiculously huge amounts for a salad.

The tone was muted as well. Most of the female attendees wore little black dresses. Only the very young women wore bodycon dresses in garish colors. While waiting online for the Tadashi Shoji show, I noticed a beautiful young woman wearing a 1980s Tadashi blue ruched Qiana dress.

Pardonnez moi, but is that dress vintage?”
She turned and gave me a condescending look. “You don’t know Tadashi’s design history, do you?” And turned back.

Two Tadashi dresses from the 1980s

No, I suppose I don’t. Strumpet.

The runway show itself? Terne, terne et morne. I was oft reminded of Laura’s dress on Ep. 6 of Project Runway.

Yes, Tadashi was out of his comfort zone. One wishes he’d stayed put. Many dresses were ombre’. As some interstitial idiocy during Project Runway put it, “Ombre’ is the new black!”

You know a show is not going well when the photographers’ “pit” barely flashes a light, and the audience sits quietly until the end. I would write more but thinking about that show causes my narcolepsy to kick in.

Ciao,
Elisa

Fashion’s Night Out 2011: At Avenue

DAHLINGS –

Before your dutiful scrivener (look it up) shares her midway Mercedes Benz Fashion Week runway report, I should like to begin with Fashion’s Night Out. It is a pulsing climax of retailing, with “pop-up” stores throughout the city. Liquor flows freely to encourage shopping madness. The lines at Missoni alone were simply out of control.

Your faithful correspondent had decided to stay in and take a hot scented bubble bath (my special scent created by Sarah Jessica Parker). My teens and twenties are far enough behind me that the notion of spending the night body-blocking other fashion hounds whilst wearing high heels was less than appetizing.

However, the siren call of the bathtub had to wait. Avenue, the plus-size clothing line for women, invited me as a celebrity guest blogger, along with Brooke Elliot, the star of the Lifetime television show “Drop Dead Diva.”

My fashion choices were an Avenue black dress with lace and ruching, 4″ black heels, and a huge vintage black hat. No jewelry. I believe the rule of “before you leave, take one thing off” applies particularly when you are wearing a huge feathered black hat.

Ma chérie jolie lecteurs, the store was so crowded you couldn’t’t get a nail file between the bodies. So many gorgeous plus-sized women, all shapes and sizes! All happy to be there among their own. Champagne was passed, as was finger food.

Alicia, the publicist, a shy, sweet redhead was not at all the usual fast-talking PR machine. I was introduced first to Selina Zaccagno, Avenue’s Divisional Merchandise Manager for Avenue Body, Shoes & Accessories. Selina in turn introduced me to almost all of the corporate staff. To be honest, after a bit it was a blur of black dresses and name tags. I saw the stylish @Curvatude, wearing a gray shrug tied under the bust and a long green skirt.

Brooke Elliot
Brooke Elliot arrived. She is stunningly beautiful, probably a size 22/24. Decked out in an Avenue animal print chiffon dress, Ms. Elliot posed for endless pictures with gaping fans.
I had a private consultation with stylist Jacqui Stafford. She praised my “beautiful bust, waist and hips,” naturally. Then she proceeded to tell me how best to cover them up. She was quite nice but there was definitely an element of cognitive dissonance there.

Brooke Elliot and Jacqui Stafford

Then came the runway show. My major quibble is that the models were small. Not nearly as terrifyingly thin as the usual Fashion Week models, but thin enough so that they did not do the clothes justice.

Ombre wool coat


Apres the show – damn that camera man!

The line is more chic than their previous clothes, particularly the new denim separates. Brooke Elliot helped Selina on the runway, discussing the styles and what she would wear. Before my camera died, I was able to grab a few snaps.

After a long day under the tents at Lincoln Center, I staggered back to my (featured in Architectural Digest) flat, and gratefully sank into my long awaited bath.

Plus tôt, je le promets.

Ciao,

Elisa

all photos Elisa DeCarlo

Avenue’s Fashion’s Night Out Extravanganza!

DAHLINGS –

My fellow larger lovelies, are you feeling frustrated by the miniscule sizes offered at most of the FNO Pop-Up-Stores?

While others may run hither and thither tomorrow night, you shall find moi in midtown, at Avenue, one of the finer retailers for plus-sized women. They are throwing an FNO party that promises to be delightful! Particularly since I will be there.

As you can see above, guests shall have the opportunity to meet the beautiful and talented star of Drop Dead Diva, Brooke Elliot. Ms. Elliot is one of the few Hollywood actresses who has not succumbed to the pressure to lose weight (yes, I’m looking at you, America Ferrara).

And one on one styling sessions with reknowned stylist Jacqi Stafford.

FNO at Avenue will take place from 6-10 PM at Avenue, 711 Third Avenue near 43rd Street. I keenly anticipate the runway show! There were also be surprises, raffles, and a DJ.

Not only can you meet me, you can also meet my fellow bloggers Plus Model Magazine, Stylish Curves, The Big Girl Blog, Curvatude, & The Fat Apple.

But of course the most important reason to attend is to meet moi. Imagine those bragging rights!

See you tomorrow,
Elisa

Mercedes Benz Fashion Week And September 11

DAHLINGS –

It’s still a tad hot and sticky here in my beloved Manhattan. Which only makes it all the more unreal that Mercedes Benz Fashion Week comes lumbering into town next week. AND during the media orgasm of celebrations/memorials/we will never forget thingies to commemorate the 10th anniversary of September 11th. Good timing, organizers.

Bad enough that we shall have to view the same horrific images countless times. Bad enough we have to view George W. Bush. Even worse, Dick Cheney. I might have had sex with him but I am still doing penance for it.

A ridiculously young moi with Dick Cheney back in the day

The schedule for MBFW is not on my desk. I plan to spend September 11 at home. With the flat screen off.

One good aspect to this is that the fashion world is probably too unimportant to the rest of the world to get blown up.

And your faithful correspondent is delighted to note that “vintage” is in again, as in mid-20th century. No amount of money would get me into a disco jumpsuit again. But as for the 40s and 50s, I’m ready to squeeze into my corset and wow the public as always. Fletcher is too much of a shy flower to accompany moi. One cannot risk him peeing in fright on Fern Mallis. One doubts she would have much of a sense of humor when it comes to canine urine.

So, good luck to all of my cohorts who are busily packing to come to New York. Take my advice and take the train. Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it, and we don’t want anyone blown up.

Ciao,

Elisa