A Week in The Tents

The week went something like this.
School.
Show. Starbucks. Show. Show. Starbucks. Show.
Sleep.

Repeat Daily.

Little Black To-Die-For Dresses from Morales. My favourite presentation of the week.
So much to say about the Sailor Moon-inflected frocks, but must save it for my article.

In the meantime, I need one of these dresses.

Speaking of dresses, the most lovely thing happened to me on Tuesday. A terrific young designer called Miss Rowe dropped by my flat bearing gifts. An ivory silk dress and feathered bangles. How sweet. This girl is one to watch. Her line oozes an Ashley Olsen savoir-faire with touches of gothic flare. I quickly slipped into the little vanilla number and taxied to the tents. In Toronto, the shows all start on time. How utterly unfashionable is that?


This season I got to attend many shows.

Pink Tartan, NADA, Joeffer Caoc, Bustle, David Dixon, Thien Li, Andy The Ahn, Joe Fresh, Evan Bidell, Evan and Dean, Morales, RUDSAK, Melinda-Mae Harlingten, Lucian Matis, John Paul Gaultier and the LG Closing Fashion Fusion Closing Gala awaits tonight. My mom is coming with me to support our friend Wayne Clark. His fabulous gowns are the perfect end to a glamorous week.

Loved soaking up the shows, yet also adore watching other people watch the show. I find it oddly mesmerizing how many people sport a practiced look of disdain. This phony indifference is an essential fashion week accessory. The writer David Livingstone has attitude down to an art form. I could watch him scoff all day, guessing the bitchy remarks he would scribble in his Moleskine.

If you don't know who David Livingstone is, shame on you. He has earned the right to be a huge grump.


My very favourite designer ever might be showing next season...

x M.