Catwalk
Versace Fall/Winter 2000
For years, I have watched late night news programs that end with clips from the world of fashion. Beautiful women clad in the most bizarre fashion trends have skirted down a well-lit runway and into the flash of dozens of photographers that line the strip. However, I have never been among the attendees or watched a major line debut.
In fact, I do not even consider myself among the population of people targeted by national and international fashion advertising. I am a simple man pleased by simple things. I don’t buy new clothes, and brand names fill my closet only if they are found on clearance racks or in thrift stores.
But, there I was at the front edge of the runway with my trusted friend and co-photo editor of the Skiff. I had called earlier in the week and was surprised to find that my title as Editor of Image magazine quickly placed me on the VIP list. What that meant at the time, I wasn’t sure.
I expected people and noise, lights and cameras, but what I didn’t expect was everything else. The show, Valley of the Dolls, debuted Versace’s fall and winter line at Liquid, a club in the Arcadia Theater on Greenville Avenue in Dallas.
Upon arrival, I quickly realized that nearly a hundred people were waiting outside who were on the VIP list, which only made me further question the use of this acronym. However, after a little persuasion and the use of the words, “on assignment,” I was let into the madness.
Hundreds had gathered into the dark split-level theater and were anxiously awaiting the charge onto the runway. Wine and drinks seemed to fill every hand and I wondered if some of the models weren’t actually walking around before the show. What I can only imagine as “Dallas’ finest citizens” appeared to be replicating their own fashion show before any model hit the stage.
Fat
plaids and animal prints dominated the show and bold colors contrasted
against the winter wonderland backdrop. Although it was the fall and winter
line, many sweated as they charged down the runway. The music was intensely
techno and my heart pounded against the syncopated rhythm of the show.
Digital images of rebellious children and young adults flashed against images of classical cathedrals and monuments. Those were quickly replaced with symbols of sex and rage on the screen projector. The show was a shocker, and to some extent, seemed to be planned that way.
Although many of the clothing items caught my eye, few caught up with my pocketbook. In fact, I didn’t even ask about pricing and shipping from international distributors.
From the look of faces and the sound of applause, the people were pleased. I, on the other hand, was disappointed. I had never realized how snazzy these events were and I wish I could have taken everyone I knew. I was allowed on floor with my photographer and could literally touch the models as they passed.
ther than one cameraman who continued to back into me, everyone on the floor was pleasant. I think they all wondered who I was and why I was there, but no one asked. After all, I was on the VIP list.
Matthew Jones is a junior news-editorial major from
Sikeston, Mo.
He can be reached at (matthewsjones@hotmail.com).