By Ted Kruckel
With hundreds of buyers, writers, photographers, camera crews and celebrities all converging on New York for Fashion Week, it's only natural that purveyors of style are tempted to capitalize on the migration. These days, entering the 7th on Sixth tents in Bryant Park is like walking through a fantasy bazaar filled with branding and booths. And outside, girls in raincoats (sensible) wearing tons of makeup (not so sensible) were handing out special copies of The Star, while gals in fedoras handed out copies of special issues of Us Weekly. As I was leaving the tents another time, a natural-faced blonde handed me an itchy, girly wool sweater and said, "Compliments of the Gap." I couldn't think of anything that would make me less inclined to visit a Gap store than getting this unwanted woolen, unless I wanted to return it for store credit (which I heard lots of young editors plan to do, but now that stores are onto this trick, you have to be even more crafty—you return them in the suburbs, or have your Mom do it where they don't know it was a Fashion Week gift).
In other words, some of the money that was shot through the cannons during this September ritual might have been better spent. I attended a few events—not the traditional fashion shows, but the parties—to see if the companies trying to leverage Fashion Week were getting a bang for their buck. Some were not.
First stop was Gianfranco Ferre's presentation of its new GF line in the tents. It was billed as a "fashion exhibition," not a fashion show, despite the fact that there was a runway and models. There were no chairs, and guests could wander in and out, have champagne or hors d'oeuvres, and see as much or as little of the "exhibition" as they chose. The models came out in color-coordinated groups, kind of posed together and interacted with the guests.
I have to say up front that I loved this idea. I hate rushing to the tents only to sit and wait for half an hour for a show to begin while some stylist gets over his meltdown. And sometimes the shows are really boring, and although only serious fashion editors and buyers need to see the whole line, you can't just get up and leave in the middle. Here, I thought, you zip in, you see people, they see you and off you go.
The problem at this event—which is a common problem at many fashion events—is that the rude behavior of fashion show attendees had not been factored in, marring (but not ruining) the concept. How? They stood right at the entrance so they could grab waiters by the arm for free food, instead of wandering in and around the stage. I made it all the way in, and there was plenty of room to take in the never-ending procession, although, like too many fashion events, it was really dark. Then Beyonce came, and you might as well have taken a sleeping pill. There was no movement of any kind possible. From Ferre's standpoint, the event must have been a success, but in my view it was a valid experiment that just missed the mark. What they needed was a flow plan—like when you go to Bed, Bath and Beyond and the arrows keep you moving through the shower curtain area to the cashiers.
Next up was the party after the Marc Jacobs show, which was held Monday night at the new Maritime Hotel. Marc Jacobs always has a giant after-party. I'm not sure why. He already had the best-attended and best-reviewed show of the week. I guess the party solidifies his label's "hipness" or something. But this year's event was billed as a benefit for the Hetrick Martin Institute and its gay high school, which is having a rocky time, so I decided to go.
Wow, what a mess. I can't think of an event that I've been to that did more to ruin the image of a company (and a brand new hotel) than this one.
Arrivals were swift and organized—despite throngs of crashers on the streets—due to GSS Security, run ably on-site by Chuck Garelick. GSS is the best, there are no two ways about it. Once inside, there was a display area where you could buy T-shirts to benefit Hetrick Martin (I heard Hilary Swank was hawking them, but I didn't see her). It was a disheveled, understaffed free-for-all. This brings up a point about having charity sales booths at events: Don't forget that they reflect on the host. I saw two people walk up, throw shirts over their shoulders and walk off. That makes you not want to give money, because you're not sure if it will make it out of the building.
Now, I had been walking by the hotel for weeks, noticing that despite lots of activity, it didn't seem to be finished. And it's not.
The main ballroom of the Maritime is underground and huge. There must have been 1,000 people in there, and not a single person who looked important, so I went to the VIP room, which for this evening was inside Matsuri, one of the hotel's restaurants, where W had a party for Kate Moss just a few days before. The Maritime is the brainchild of Eric Goode and Sean MacPherson, known for their work at Area, MK, B Bar and the Park. The fact that their two Fashion Week parties were for Marc Jacobs and W should come as no surprise—they have been blessed by the style mafia.
The VIP room had more than 200 people, but almost no actual VIPs, and the bartenders had almost no idea what they were doing.
On the way out we walked through the upstairs courtyard, which has cracked cement and puddles everywhere, and the new lanterns already look like they've had a rough run. I went back a few nights later—after all, a new downtown hotel in New York that can accommodate 1,000 people for events is a big deal—to see if I had given them a fair shake. Putting aside the unfinished windows and the puddles (which seemed worse) there were now fluorescent lights in the bar that could not have been less flattering. To be fair, the wood paneling of the ceiling and the lobby looked really nice, but in my opinion this place was not ready for prime time players. While there, I saw Eric Goode come in for an inspection. I greeted him and he looked like he had seen a ghost and high-tailed it out of there, confirming my suspicions that he was none too pleased either.
I feel guilty writing all this because Eric is really talented, I love the creativity of the Park, and Marc Jacobs should be applauded for using his fashion night to support Hetrick Martin. But bad is bad.
Time to hit the stores. Faconnable and Burberry both had Fashion Week retail events. I love a party in a store—it feels so naughty to put your drinks on the counters—but they are really hard to pull off. The spaces are always tight, the mood is a bit commercial, and there is almost never proper ventilation, which is a big no-no in my book. Burberry had just the right combination—a hot name and a good excuse to throw a lavish party, its new fragrance, Brit (according to WWD it's already selling like hotcakes).
Faconnable's mistake was having the party in the first place. You can't blame them—they're opening their Rockefeller Center/Fifth Avenue flagship. But in reality, the store only moved five blocks. Besides, despite efforts to target women, Faconnable is still a sleepy men's brand. I go there to buy things when I want to look clean and pressed, not necessarily fashionable. For them to roll out the red carpet during Fashion Week is simply asking to be overlooked, and they were. Add to that a tight entryway that isn't designed for parties and you come up with a big waste of time.
Columnist Ted Kruckel is an experienced—and opinionated—former event and PR pro who ran events for 20 years for high-profile clients like Vanity Fair, Elle Decor, Christian Dior and Carolina Herrera. He shuttered his firm, Ted Inc., earlier this year.
With hundreds of buyers, writers, photographers, camera crews and celebrities all converging on New York for Fashion Week, it's only natural that purveyors of style are tempted to capitalize on the migration. These days, entering the 7th on Sixth tents in Bryant Park is like walking through a fantasy bazaar filled with branding and booths. And outside, girls in raincoats (sensible) wearing tons of makeup (not so sensible) were handing out special copies of The Star, while gals in fedoras handed out copies of special issues of Us Weekly. As I was leaving the tents another time, a natural-faced blonde handed me an itchy, girly wool sweater and said, "Compliments of the Gap." I couldn't think of anything that would make me less inclined to visit a Gap store than getting this unwanted woolen, unless I wanted to return it for store credit (which I heard lots of young editors plan to do, but now that stores are onto this trick, you have to be even more crafty—you return them in the suburbs, or have your Mom do it where they don't know it was a Fashion Week gift).
In other words, some of the money that was shot through the cannons during this September ritual might have been better spent. I attended a few events—not the traditional fashion shows, but the parties—to see if the companies trying to leverage Fashion Week were getting a bang for their buck. Some were not.
First stop was Gianfranco Ferre's presentation of its new GF line in the tents. It was billed as a "fashion exhibition," not a fashion show, despite the fact that there was a runway and models. There were no chairs, and guests could wander in and out, have champagne or hors d'oeuvres, and see as much or as little of the "exhibition" as they chose. The models came out in color-coordinated groups, kind of posed together and interacted with the guests.
I have to say up front that I loved this idea. I hate rushing to the tents only to sit and wait for half an hour for a show to begin while some stylist gets over his meltdown. And sometimes the shows are really boring, and although only serious fashion editors and buyers need to see the whole line, you can't just get up and leave in the middle. Here, I thought, you zip in, you see people, they see you and off you go.
The problem at this event—which is a common problem at many fashion events—is that the rude behavior of fashion show attendees had not been factored in, marring (but not ruining) the concept. How? They stood right at the entrance so they could grab waiters by the arm for free food, instead of wandering in and around the stage. I made it all the way in, and there was plenty of room to take in the never-ending procession, although, like too many fashion events, it was really dark. Then Beyonce came, and you might as well have taken a sleeping pill. There was no movement of any kind possible. From Ferre's standpoint, the event must have been a success, but in my view it was a valid experiment that just missed the mark. What they needed was a flow plan—like when you go to Bed, Bath and Beyond and the arrows keep you moving through the shower curtain area to the cashiers.
Next up was the party after the Marc Jacobs show, which was held Monday night at the new Maritime Hotel. Marc Jacobs always has a giant after-party. I'm not sure why. He already had the best-attended and best-reviewed show of the week. I guess the party solidifies his label's "hipness" or something. But this year's event was billed as a benefit for the Hetrick Martin Institute and its gay high school, which is having a rocky time, so I decided to go.
Wow, what a mess. I can't think of an event that I've been to that did more to ruin the image of a company (and a brand new hotel) than this one.
Arrivals were swift and organized—despite throngs of crashers on the streets—due to GSS Security, run ably on-site by Chuck Garelick. GSS is the best, there are no two ways about it. Once inside, there was a display area where you could buy T-shirts to benefit Hetrick Martin (I heard Hilary Swank was hawking them, but I didn't see her). It was a disheveled, understaffed free-for-all. This brings up a point about having charity sales booths at events: Don't forget that they reflect on the host. I saw two people walk up, throw shirts over their shoulders and walk off. That makes you not want to give money, because you're not sure if it will make it out of the building.
Now, I had been walking by the hotel for weeks, noticing that despite lots of activity, it didn't seem to be finished. And it's not.
The main ballroom of the Maritime is underground and huge. There must have been 1,000 people in there, and not a single person who looked important, so I went to the VIP room, which for this evening was inside Matsuri, one of the hotel's restaurants, where W had a party for Kate Moss just a few days before. The Maritime is the brainchild of Eric Goode and Sean MacPherson, known for their work at Area, MK, B Bar and the Park. The fact that their two Fashion Week parties were for Marc Jacobs and W should come as no surprise—they have been blessed by the style mafia.
The VIP room had more than 200 people, but almost no actual VIPs, and the bartenders had almost no idea what they were doing.
On the way out we walked through the upstairs courtyard, which has cracked cement and puddles everywhere, and the new lanterns already look like they've had a rough run. I went back a few nights later—after all, a new downtown hotel in New York that can accommodate 1,000 people for events is a big deal—to see if I had given them a fair shake. Putting aside the unfinished windows and the puddles (which seemed worse) there were now fluorescent lights in the bar that could not have been less flattering. To be fair, the wood paneling of the ceiling and the lobby looked really nice, but in my opinion this place was not ready for prime time players. While there, I saw Eric Goode come in for an inspection. I greeted him and he looked like he had seen a ghost and high-tailed it out of there, confirming my suspicions that he was none too pleased either.
I feel guilty writing all this because Eric is really talented, I love the creativity of the Park, and Marc Jacobs should be applauded for using his fashion night to support Hetrick Martin. But bad is bad.
Time to hit the stores. Faconnable and Burberry both had Fashion Week retail events. I love a party in a store—it feels so naughty to put your drinks on the counters—but they are really hard to pull off. The spaces are always tight, the mood is a bit commercial, and there is almost never proper ventilation, which is a big no-no in my book. Burberry had just the right combination—a hot name and a good excuse to throw a lavish party, its new fragrance, Brit (according to WWD it's already selling like hotcakes).
Faconnable's mistake was having the party in the first place. You can't blame them—they're opening their Rockefeller Center/Fifth Avenue flagship. But in reality, the store only moved five blocks. Besides, despite efforts to target women, Faconnable is still a sleepy men's brand. I go there to buy things when I want to look clean and pressed, not necessarily fashionable. For them to roll out the red carpet during Fashion Week is simply asking to be overlooked, and they were. Add to that a tight entryway that isn't designed for parties and you come up with a big waste of time.
Columnist Ted Kruckel is an experienced—and opinionated—former event and PR pro who ran events for 20 years for high-profile clients like Vanity Fair, Elle Decor, Christian Dior and Carolina Herrera. He shuttered his firm, Ted Inc., earlier this year.
