Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week, DUB Magazine, Issue 22
Twice a year, the car world shakes hands with the clothing world, and Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week descends upon the ultra-hip Smashbox Studios in Culver City.
I'd like to say it's an amazing opportunity to see the finest garment designs from the brightest LA designers, that it's an inspiring tease to glimpse the clothes that will be setting trends for the rest of the fashion world, but I'd be lying.
Fashion week is a party. It's a week-long celebration of the art of seeing and being seen, an orgy of flesh traipsing down runways as audiences- littered with celebrities like so much rainbow colored sprinkles on a chocolate cake- stare with a fascinating blend of voyeurism and feigned boredom.
Don't get me wrong; fashion shows are like art galleries, only shimmering, moving, and underfed, with a room full of fans, critics, and photographers discussing the finer points of bias cuts and topstitching.
Then there are people like me, straight guys who appreciate beautiful women to the extent that they can't get over the fact that these creatures are bouncing down the runway, oftentimes half-naked, with the wholehearted intention of being taken completely seriously.
Later, on our way out of the show, my fiancée asks me what I think of the clothes. As I try to muster up the mental image of a single item of clothing, anything relating to actual fashion, I fall completely short. In hopes of deflecting her impossible-to-answer question, I divert her attention to the one thing that could've possibly distracted me: the flashy new SLK Roadsters displayed in the lobby. Thankfully, it works; she takes the bait and I avert the question... at least until next season.
Basem Wasef
info@basemwasef.com
323.791.8560