Some people look at me and think that I care about fashion. I don’t. But fashion cares about me. It has to. I’m style and fashion is how the vulgar imitate style.
Having said that, something in fashion has recently aroused my interest. It’s this letter of protest to David Miller about L’oreal Fashion Week and its resident tyrant, Ms. Robin Kay. I know nothing about the woman and, after reading her description of a perfect day (“I’d have a breakfast of raspberries, blackberries and organic light Liberty yogurt, plus a cappuccino, all delivered by Concierge by Request. Fuelled up, I’d take Lulu, my white Bichon–Shih Tzu, for a ride on a vintage Peugeot bicycle from Cyclemania to the waterfront.”) I would rather keep it that way.
My mind recoils from the mere thought of a middle aged woman, hopped up on caffeine, riding her poor dog around on an old bicycle and farting from her fruit heavy breakfast, until she returns home, only to leave again in her rented limousine to shop, have fawning sycophants grind her nails off, eat even more and to finally be filmed while she performs her greatest accomplishment – that is, getting belching drunk on martinis with a hundred people. If that is her perfect day, one has to congratulate her. She has the imagination of a bag lady.
So I am sympathetic to our anonymous letter writer. She or he or s/he accuses Ms. Kay of corruption, cocaine scandals and cliquish behavior. It is said that: “Over the years Robin Kay has openly maligned the reputations of those who do not agree with her. Many individuals and companies who have shown promise for innovation and leadership have been shut out as potential competitors and a threat to her position as “the Queen of fashion in Canada”. Companies and individuals have been blacklisted by Miss Kay and her associates and their reputations subsequently smeared. Miss Kay continues to treat people who do not serve her purpose with disrespect and contempt.”
If true, this is, of course, sickening behavior. Yet, one need only watch reality television to see that it is perfectly at home in the world of fashion. Perhaps things will change and change for the better. I have my doubts. Whether or not these allegations are true, people generally get the leader they deserve. At the moment, fashion deserves a self-obsessed, coke-snorting, cliquish child as its self-proclaimed queen. If this is to change, it will not be due to a letter to the mayor. It will be due to artists who take things into their own hands, control their own shit, put on their own shows and do exactly as they please without regard for the opinions of petty tyrants. The emperor has no clothes. In fashion, of all things, people should not obey the naked.
4 comments
2 pings
jarod.vhale
November 2, 2007 at 10:39 am (UTC -5)
amen brother
Ryan Oakley
November 2, 2007 at 6:53 pm (UTC -5)
Uh . . .
Hallelujah comrade?
Anonymous
November 7, 2007 at 10:16 am (UTC -5)
apologies..
I was just agreeing with the whole do-it-yourself thing you mentioned…
should explained more.
Ryan Oakley
November 7, 2007 at 4:55 pm (UTC -5)
No need to apologize. Just never had an amen before and wasn’t sure what the correct response was. I guess it wasn’t “hallelujah comrade.”
Fashion Week Fugly in Toronto Life « The Grumpy Owl
March 13, 2008 at 11:44 am (UTC -5)
[...] of you may remember the fashion week controversy and the minor, though entertaining, role that I played in it. Well, shortly after the whole [...]
Fashion Week: A Postmortem « The Grumpy Owl
October 24, 2008 at 1:50 am (UTC -5)
[...] put me in the unfortunate position of having to defend her. Yesterday, the Queen of Fashion Week, Her Unfortunate Majesty, Robin Kay, got all fucked up and delivered a rambling speech that ended in her being gently [...]