There were no groundbreaking fashion revelations at the two dozen-plus Spring 2003 L.A. Fashion Week shows this past week -- although audience members sported ensembles that proved once again L.A. style is endlessly inventive: flygirls-gone-'80s-Euroflash trash, fabulously fey high-plains drifters, neo-hippie vintage-glam punkers. On the runway, Jared Gold presented a more mainstream version of his punk Victoriana (his new backing has resulted in new salability). Alicia Lawhon continued her deconstructed/reconstructed vintage work in a pastel '50s doo-wop theme. Richard Tyler's secondary tyler line lounged at one end of the spectrum in slinky unstructured dresses and low-slung white pants, while MartinMARTIN brooded on the other end in deconstructed black statement gowns. Freddie Rojas' sportswear for Private was a blender of athletic, Flashdance and treated-jeans looks, while David Cardona would have driven vegetarian Stella McCartney bonkers with his tricked-out leather collection. Nikolaki's first solo show, designed by Nick Verreos and David Paul, was a Moroccan-inspired trip of diagonally cut dresses in silk charmeuse with unusual necklines showing off the clavicle and shoulder, while Eduardo Lucero offered up pretty peekaboo sophistication. And, with a curious take on larger world events, both Nikolaki and Jeremy Scott showed burkas paired with supersexy outfits.
But ultimately, the buzz among the gift bag-clutching fashionistas wasn't about a new silhouette or hemline -- though Louis Verdad, Antonio Aguilar and Corin Madley at Gen Art's group show inspired ones-to-watch chatter -- it was about the injuries (to the body and to the ego) suffered at the check-in crush to get into Jeremy Scott's show. At this L.A. Fashion Week, the real show was off the runway -- and off-the-hook.
JEREMY SCOTT
The fashionistas were atwitter at Jeremy Scott's show at MOCA, his first since relocating to Los Angeles. The scale, models, lighting and terrifying crush at the door gave it all the glamour -- and frenzy -- of a New York show. The clothes were another matter. Maybe the Kansas-by-way-of-Paris Scott is globetrotting in search of women who will actually wear his stewardesses-in-space micro minidresses, sherbet-colored swimsuits accessorized with beaded stripes of shredded fabric, and gowns with an animal-kingdom theme, such as feathery birds or scaly reptiles. (Photos by Stacy Kranitz)
Nikko Kefalas, stylist (left)
I'm wearing an Alexander McQueen jacket, a Dolce & Gabbana shirt and cravat, Yves St. Laurent pants and Vivienne Westwood shoes. God, I'm such a label queen. She told me I look like a pimp.
Why this outfit to this show?
When I think of Jeremy Scott I think of color, something sneaky, very modern . . . and still a little bit cheap.
What if someone else showed up wearing the exact same outfit?
I'd change mine! I'd take off my shirt and wrap it around one arm.
What defines the L.A. look?
It's all about plastic surgery, darling. Actually, it's a mix of vintage and modern ready-to-wear.
Joanne Gair, makeup artist
This is all vintage. I got the jacket in Vienna.
Why this outfit to this show?
This is me!
What if someone else showed up wearing the exact same outfit?
No one would ever find it.
What defines the L.A. look?
It's loose. It has a lot more comfort than other cities.
Naama Givoni, assistant to fashion designer Corin Madley
I'm wearing a new designer named Madley.
Why this outfit to this show?
I thought it was a lot of fun. It's a cool version of dressing up like a doll.
What if someone else showed up wearing the exact same outfit?
I would get embarrassed, laugh and brush it off. Then I'd be like, "Where'd you get that? It's an original!"
What defines the L.A. look?
It's all about accessories, because you're always in a T-shirt and jeans. So it's all about what scarf or shoes or pullover you wear with it, or what vintage T-shirt you chose.
Emma Trask, fashion stylist
The suit is Future Ozbek, the earrings are Nicole Romano and the shoes are vintage.
Why this outfit to this show?
Jeremy's a little quirky and so is this outfit.
What if someone else showed up wearing the exact same outfit?
I know they won't because I bought this a long time ago.
What defines the L.A. look?
Generally it's more casual, but the fashionistas are a little more theatrical than in other cities. They wear more hats, and it's more over the top.
Mari Murao, artist
The sweater is by an L.A. designer named Angelo Figus, the skirt is LoyandFord and the boots are my mom's from the '60s.
Why this outfit to this show?
Jeremy is a really artistic designer, so I decided to wear something arty. L.A. can be conservative, and it's not always that you get an occasion to dress up.
What if someone else showed up wearing the exact same outfit?
I would laugh.
What defines the L.A. look?
Too casual and too sexy. People need to think more in terms of art.
Christof Certik, musician and sales representative for fashion designer Henry Duarte (left)
This is vintage North Beach Leather from the early '70s, and the bag is a flea-market find.
