Alternative Fashion Week venue Gotham Hall planned to host the Douglas Hannant show, until suddenly it wasn't—two days before the show.
The truth is I just couldn't bring myself to write about the recent Olympus Fashion Week yet again. For starters, there is just so much already written. Cathy Horyn and WWD's brilliantly imaginative reviews of designers invoking philosophy, art, architecture, etc., completely co-opt the idea of critiquing clothes, much less reporting. "There were 17 dresses and nine outfits with pants. Of these, 12 were in black jersey." That's what I always think the reviews should say.
And now that everybody in the world comes up with a daily fashion magazine, there is barely an iota of press-worthy information not instantly reported. "Lindsay Lohan in her dressing room asked for bottled water…twice!" (All those celebs at the heart disease awareness show with their brash red dresses make me want to scream, "We're aware! We're aware! Please stop alerting us!")
There are still a few tidbits of interest. Gotham Hall was an alternative venue for fashion shows—it even had a fancy chef (shades of Rocco DiSpirito's fashion-friendly past?) backstage whipping up what sounded like delicious food for the models to regurgitate later. But all must not have been so peachy keen there. On Thursday the team organizing for Douglas Hannant called to say they had decided—the day before the day before the show—to change venues, although I couldn't get anybody to give me the reason for the change.
But even the whiff of scandal (had a stylist gotten food poisoning?), couldn't inspire me to commit pen to pad (or key to screen, as it were).
But then I realized that Olympus Fashion Week isn't the only game in town. My friend Bill pointed it out to me at dinner. "See all those ladies with mannish haircuts and boxy blazers? They were all at the Human Rights Campaign gala last night, too. They're all dog lesbians in town for the big show." (The gay group's dinner sold out the Waldorf's ballroom for the first time, by the way.)
I don't know about you, but ever since I saw the movie Best in Show, I have been dying to go to the dog show and meet some of the kooky dog people. So off I went to the 130th showing of the Westminster Kennel Club Champions Only Dog Show, held at Madison Square Garden, natch.
Turns out they're more snooty than kooky.
I assumed my love and (presumed) knowledge of canines would make me a welcome, even sought-after commodity. Noooooo.
When I told a judge lady (Karen Sakson, working and hounds categories), as a way to demonstrate that I wasn't completely uninformed about dogs, that I grew up on a farm and our family had maintained two to three purebred hunting dogs at all times she replied, "Everybody who comes to the dog show claims they have a purebred."
A PR guy in the pressroom was straight out of the movie…lacquered hair; shiny double-breasted blazer; super-supercilious attitude, amplified by my repeatedly referring to his boss as Jamie (it's David, FYI). He told me that he wasn't a press "whore" and unlike other dog PR people who fawn over general media reporters (a trend I hadn't yet sensed) he reserved his insight and assistance for "people who write about dogs."
"But I'm writing about dogs—today," I told him.
All I wanted was a lousy kennel pass, which I didn't get, which of course simply meant that I had to sneak in, which of course was the easiest thing in the world once I'd wasted 40 minutes trying to get the pass. I retaliated by inciting a whole group of journalists who were waiting to get into the judging lounge as I left it by saying, "I don't know why they are being so stingy. There are no reporters in there now, the view is terrific, and the terriers are almost over. You guys should be more aggressive."
What I decided to do was to try and compare and contrast dog people with fashion people. So I asked Karen: "Are there any trends in dogs this year? Is there an important color?"
"Cocoa is huge," I heard her say.
Coco turned out to be a Norfolk terrier. (Or was it Norwich terrier? They look exactly alike—it's the kind of dog that won in Best in Show, I'm pretty sure, even though I almost resorted to fisticuffs with someone who claimed it was a cairn terrier in the movie.)
Anyway, despite a few missteps, it turns out there are a number of similarities between the fashion and dog worlds:
They Have a Strict Pecking Order
Judges equal editors in this realm and act in an equally self-important manner. They dress up for their moment. In fact, evening wear is required for judges in the ring at night.
There Are Gift Bags!
Lots of stuff here. My favorite was the scarf that I was about to tie smartly around my neck until I read that it was a dog kerchief. (Don't worry about me, I got a hat that says "Dogs rule.") There are sponsors and sponsor lounges, too.
Unimaginable Histrionics Take Place Backstage
Talk about ozone depletion—the miasma of Aqua Net took me back in time to my grandmother's bathroom. One guy had a toothbrush specifically for brushing the hair around his dog's privates. "Please tell me ya don't get 'em mixed up?" I quipped.
There's a Role for PETA
Putting aside for a minute the ethics of liberally applying Vaseline to your dog's teeth just before entering the ring to make its smile seem brighter (and no, the lube isn't bacon flavored or anything like that—I asked), there is a gold mine for those antifur fanatics at this event. These people may be dog lovers, but they also really love fur coats, mink jackets, and shearling, shearling, shearling. And that doesn't even begin to address the mukluk/Ugg wearers, or the leather/suede crowd.
Nobody Sits in Their Assigned Seat
That's because while the show is completely sold out day and night, people come and go for the category that interests them only, leaving top seats vacant all the time. For example, a poodle person only cares about poodles—but are you really surprised?
Celebrities Are There for No Apparent Reason
Bruce Willis wowed the owner of the Siberian husky with his dog knowledge and New York blizzard-braving gustiness: "If I had six of those dogs and a sled, I could get around this town."
Choice of Brand Says a Lot About the Customer
For example: George W. Bush owns a Scottish terrier (Barney, I think). They "like to feel superior to their owner," an announcer explained. This seemed to make sense.
Anyway, here's my dog/fashion forecast for fall 2006:
If You Wear: Calvin Klein by Francisco Costa
You Should Own a: borzoi (long and lean)
If You Wear: Betsey Johnson
You Should Own a: komondor (it's the one that looks like it has white dreadlocks)
If You Wear: Ralph Lauren (WWD called his theme a weekend shooting party)
You Should Own a: English or Irish setter (certainly a pointer)
If You Wear: Christian Dior
You Should Own a: miniature chocolate poodle with show trim
If You Wear: Camel hair
You Should Own a: soft-coated wheaten terrier
If You Wear: Karl Lagerfeld
You Should Own a: whippet (weird and unhealthy looking)
Posted 02.15.06
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., in 2003. You can email him at [email protected].
Photos: Courtesy of Westminster Kennel Club (Coco); B. Proud (HRC)
And now that everybody in the world comes up with a daily fashion magazine, there is barely an iota of press-worthy information not instantly reported. "Lindsay Lohan in her dressing room asked for bottled water…twice!" (All those celebs at the heart disease awareness show with their brash red dresses make me want to scream, "We're aware! We're aware! Please stop alerting us!")
There are still a few tidbits of interest. Gotham Hall was an alternative venue for fashion shows—it even had a fancy chef (shades of Rocco DiSpirito's fashion-friendly past?) backstage whipping up what sounded like delicious food for the models to regurgitate later. But all must not have been so peachy keen there. On Thursday the team organizing for Douglas Hannant called to say they had decided—the day before the day before the show—to change venues, although I couldn't get anybody to give me the reason for the change.
But even the whiff of scandal (had a stylist gotten food poisoning?), couldn't inspire me to commit pen to pad (or key to screen, as it were).
But then I realized that Olympus Fashion Week isn't the only game in town. My friend Bill pointed it out to me at dinner. "See all those ladies with mannish haircuts and boxy blazers? They were all at the Human Rights Campaign gala last night, too. They're all dog lesbians in town for the big show." (The gay group's dinner sold out the Waldorf's ballroom for the first time, by the way.)
I don't know about you, but ever since I saw the movie Best in Show, I have been dying to go to the dog show and meet some of the kooky dog people. So off I went to the 130th showing of the Westminster Kennel Club Champions Only Dog Show, held at Madison Square Garden, natch.
Turns out they're more snooty than kooky.
I assumed my love and (presumed) knowledge of canines would make me a welcome, even sought-after commodity. Noooooo.
When I told a judge lady (Karen Sakson, working and hounds categories), as a way to demonstrate that I wasn't completely uninformed about dogs, that I grew up on a farm and our family had maintained two to three purebred hunting dogs at all times she replied, "Everybody who comes to the dog show claims they have a purebred."
A PR guy in the pressroom was straight out of the movie…lacquered hair; shiny double-breasted blazer; super-supercilious attitude, amplified by my repeatedly referring to his boss as Jamie (it's David, FYI). He told me that he wasn't a press "whore" and unlike other dog PR people who fawn over general media reporters (a trend I hadn't yet sensed) he reserved his insight and assistance for "people who write about dogs."
"But I'm writing about dogs—today," I told him.
All I wanted was a lousy kennel pass, which I didn't get, which of course simply meant that I had to sneak in, which of course was the easiest thing in the world once I'd wasted 40 minutes trying to get the pass. I retaliated by inciting a whole group of journalists who were waiting to get into the judging lounge as I left it by saying, "I don't know why they are being so stingy. There are no reporters in there now, the view is terrific, and the terriers are almost over. You guys should be more aggressive."
What I decided to do was to try and compare and contrast dog people with fashion people. So I asked Karen: "Are there any trends in dogs this year? Is there an important color?"
"Cocoa is huge," I heard her say.
Coco turned out to be a Norfolk terrier. (Or was it Norwich terrier? They look exactly alike—it's the kind of dog that won in Best in Show, I'm pretty sure, even though I almost resorted to fisticuffs with someone who claimed it was a cairn terrier in the movie.)
Anyway, despite a few missteps, it turns out there are a number of similarities between the fashion and dog worlds:
They Have a Strict Pecking Order
Judges equal editors in this realm and act in an equally self-important manner. They dress up for their moment. In fact, evening wear is required for judges in the ring at night.
There Are Gift Bags!
Lots of stuff here. My favorite was the scarf that I was about to tie smartly around my neck until I read that it was a dog kerchief. (Don't worry about me, I got a hat that says "Dogs rule.") There are sponsors and sponsor lounges, too.
Unimaginable Histrionics Take Place Backstage
Talk about ozone depletion—the miasma of Aqua Net took me back in time to my grandmother's bathroom. One guy had a toothbrush specifically for brushing the hair around his dog's privates. "Please tell me ya don't get 'em mixed up?" I quipped.
There's a Role for PETA
Putting aside for a minute the ethics of liberally applying Vaseline to your dog's teeth just before entering the ring to make its smile seem brighter (and no, the lube isn't bacon flavored or anything like that—I asked), there is a gold mine for those antifur fanatics at this event. These people may be dog lovers, but they also really love fur coats, mink jackets, and shearling, shearling, shearling. And that doesn't even begin to address the mukluk/Ugg wearers, or the leather/suede crowd.
Nobody Sits in Their Assigned Seat
That's because while the show is completely sold out day and night, people come and go for the category that interests them only, leaving top seats vacant all the time. For example, a poodle person only cares about poodles—but are you really surprised?
Celebrities Are There for No Apparent Reason
Bruce Willis wowed the owner of the Siberian husky with his dog knowledge and New York blizzard-braving gustiness: "If I had six of those dogs and a sled, I could get around this town."
Choice of Brand Says a Lot About the Customer
For example: George W. Bush owns a Scottish terrier (Barney, I think). They "like to feel superior to their owner," an announcer explained. This seemed to make sense.
Anyway, here's my dog/fashion forecast for fall 2006:
If You Wear: Calvin Klein by Francisco Costa
You Should Own a: borzoi (long and lean)
If You Wear: Betsey Johnson
You Should Own a: komondor (it's the one that looks like it has white dreadlocks)
If You Wear: Ralph Lauren (WWD called his theme a weekend shooting party)
You Should Own a: English or Irish setter (certainly a pointer)
If You Wear: Christian Dior
You Should Own a: miniature chocolate poodle with show trim
If You Wear: Camel hair
You Should Own a: soft-coated wheaten terrier
If You Wear: Karl Lagerfeld
You Should Own a: whippet (weird and unhealthy looking)
Posted 02.15.06
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., in 2003. You can email him at [email protected].
Photos: Courtesy of Westminster Kennel Club (Coco); B. Proud (HRC)
