Beauty and Madness

(top left): Lucero's Fabu moment.

Hello, Darlings Many of the usual fashion press suspects are at the Mercedes-Benz “Rock the Runways” benefit Tuesday night for the City of Hope, hosted by Cindy Crawford and featuring the Yeah Yeah Yeahs (or No No Nos, as one fashionista described them to me the next day). But with just hours to go before the Wednesday opening of the official Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week at Smashbox, I’m headed to the Pacific Design Center to check out the final night of the P.KaBu series of runway and trunk shows, started by designer José Angel a few seasons back. While I admire Angel’s independent spirit and the fact that the shows are open to the public, neither Erica Rose nor Monica Nahum’s Szulika, tonight’s designers, needs a runway show. Oh well, onward. Or rather, to the closet first for the usual try-’n’-toss Fashion Week morning dressing routine, with a call or two to Susan. We do our best to turn it out — which means there are always a few people each day who assume we can’t be from L.A. Well, check this — I’m a native Angelena, and I don’t own a pair of jeans. I arrive early at Smashbox, do the accreditation shuffle and start the “Hello, darlings.” Fashion Week is a little like returning to summer camp, the joyful reunions with people you see only a few times a year. I pop backstage to say hello to Eduardo Lucero, who’s opening the week — the first time an L.A. designer is doing the honors. Flocks of dressers (mostly fashion students from local schools) in flamingo-pink tees surround Lucero, who moves serenely through the chaos explaining the three outfits each is responsible for. The hub and bub — half-dressed models, hair and makeup crew putting on finishing touches — hubbles and bubbles when “10 minutes to showtime” is announced. I find Susan, and in we go. You know that feeling you get when you’re watching something transcendent and magical? This show is all that and more. Exquisite tailoring, aggressive silhouettes, incredible colors. And so damn sexy. I’m misty-eyed when it finishes. Eduardo Lucero has set a gorgeously high standard for the week.

Tight Ends and Gift-Bag Grifters Trying to get into a show during Fashion Week is like trying to get on a delayed flight, as imagined by Sartre. You’re either being herded from one place to the next or left to wait. For the moment, we’ve made our way to Pegah Anvarian, whose darker colors and use of tweeds — she’s known for her body-embracing jersey — signal a new direction. If only she were more sure of that direction. A quick break for dins — overpriced sushi from Geisha House — where Michael tells me he needs to get paid more. Apparently some of the other photographers don’t shower often enough. Meanwhile, for any of you who’ve ended up on Mr. Blackwell’s worst-dressed list one time too many, Kevan Hall is your designer — safe red-carpet dresses. Maybe even a little too tasteful. At Saja, I spot a new breed of Fashion Week habitué: the gift-bag grifter. This type differs from the gift-bag snatcher by a more discreet approach. Susan and I watch as a well-dressed older woman sits in the front row as if she belongs there. She casually picks up the gift bag under the seat and stuffs it into her tote, then wanders off. In the crush outside Nony Tochterman’s Petro Zillia show, I now decide that getting into a show during Fashion Week is like a scene from one of those news reports of masses trying to catch the last plane out of Saigon. “This is why I don’t go to the Spider Club,” one guy remarks when the black velvet rope comes up at the main tent. I can’t figure out why the NFL channel has a reporter here. Then a really big fellow sits down next to me, leans over and introduces himself as Tony. From the Kansas City Chiefs. Apparently, I still look blank. Tony — tight end Tony Gonzalez, I later discover — tells me Marcus Allen is also here. “You know who he is?” Barely. It turns out Tight End Tony is here as part of some promotional gig. After a glitzy Paula Abdul–choreographed dance number — bands, opera singers and more dancers open a number of shows this week — Tochterman’s seductive, colorful, tough-but-tender vision for fall saunters down the runway. Lights out. Okay, so how adorable is this? At Meghan Fabulous’ “Fashion Es Jesus” show on day two, her mom — a sixth-grade teacher — checked in the journalists and her stepdad handed out programs. And the clothes? Beautiful coats, bright ethnic elegance, but stick with daywear. Then to the extravagant spectacle that is a Sue Wong show. The theme: “Venetian Carnivale,” complete with a glitter-tossing harlequin at the end. She has one enthusiastic national sales rep, who hooted and hollered at every über-elegantensemble. Wong does give one much to cheer about. The other highlight of day two is veteran New York–based designer Morgane Le Fay, who put out a beautiful mix of the grand and understated. Susan and I — both fans of ’80s Japanese design — lust madly after her layered and draped skirts. Of course, runway shows aren’t only about clothes — there are the models. Though Los Angeles doesn’t often get the celeb catwalkers — no Naomi Campbell to keep us all waiting an hour — Suss Design has the one big name of the week: Kirsty Hume. As beautiful as she is, she doesn’t make the clothes any more interesting.