Tuesday, February 16th. 9am. The Salon. Elie Tahari.
One of my employers is in love with Elie Tahari. I know she's been dying to read my coverage on her favorite designer showing at Fashion Week, but I've been making her wait for it...wait for it...and wait for it some more. This one is for you boss.
Bad news - It's very early in the morning, snowing outside and it seems that everyone is being let in before those of us with tickets.
Good news - No seating assignments, everyone is standing!
Bad news - No goody bags.
Good news - I'm in the front row because I'm short!
Bad news - These models are easily twice my size. I feel like Smurfette.
Bad news - Joan Rivers' face frightens me.
Once I arrived in the Salon, the show began with the models walking proud, fast and furious. The women's collection wowed with sophisticated pieces that showed off Tahari's unfaltering attention to detail. I ooh'ed and ahh'ed over ready-to-wear separates in posh palettes of blacks and grays that gravitated into oranges, bronzes and other cool Autumnal pops of color. Tahari's glorious handbags accessorized the looks beautifully as did the uptown hats and oversized sunglasses that added a touch of timeless style.
The menswear collection quickly followed suit with luxurious Don Draper lookalikes cruising down the catwalk in impeccable suits and perfectly parted slicked back hair. Once the men walked their walk, there was a brief pause and...wait for it...wait for it...
The show started all over again. Wait, didn't I see that? I'm having serious déjà vu. No, I'm not mistaken, I did see that before. After a few familiar looks, I finally put size 2 and 2 together to realize that the women were indeed coming out in the same outfits, beginning their entire collection rotation once again. Then the boys, girls, boys, girls, boy, girl, walk, fierce, pose, repeat.
It was the Groundhog Day of Fashion Week.