David Jones Opening Event
Virgin Australia Melbourne Fashion Festival
Monday March 17th 2014
Claudia Sorace Fashion Journalist
The red carpet is alive. Why?
It’s the first event of the Virgin Australian Melbourne Fashion Festival. Just
in! Megan Gale is heavily pregnant and the celebrities’ roll down the red in
mandatory formation. That’s their job you see, not my job. My job
is to tell you about it. I’m dressed in something that is more ‘Claude’
appropriate; I can digress from straight clean lines that show off long pins
and accentuate appropriate curves. I can list the celebrities and will some,
but that would be futile, as my photographer Andre Ehlay has delivered us a
visual depiction below.
This year, things are a little
different. This is due to the changing of the major sponsor from previous
years; the event was majorly sponsored by L’Oreal, however this year Virgin
Australia have decided to dabble out of flying and into fashion. I arrived not
wanting to be too critical; for I have an aviation background and tend to have
a lot pilot and hostess friends. My belief was that they would genuinely do a
stupendous job. Naturally, when the red carpet settles down, I saunter into the
VIP lounge, wet my whistle with whatever booze is available to me, but then I
receive a text message and it’s my photographer and consequently, now my time
to walk the red carpet. I don’t mind this bit you see, it makes you feel
somewhat important and I’m quite ok with that.
Everyone starts yelling my name,
but it’s genuinely half of my friends from the fashion industry and so then
proceeds the social photos. I’m not booked in for the first show however; I’ve
opted to eat dinner (something that is genuinely not done at fashion week) at
the Woolshed establishment next door. It’s boring; my Caesar salad is bland and
blatantly crap, but my cheap moscato keeps me eating until I cannot digest
anymore of this wishy-washy excuse for ‘edible’ food. Keep the cheap sweet wine
rolling I say… and then its time. The call for the second show is booming and
consequently, I leave my dinner to watch the David Jones sponsored Event.
Shockingly as a journalist, I don’t ever look at programs, I tend to let the
night guide me instead of guiding myself, because lets face it, wine can do
that too. Thy trust in the liquor is strong.
Suddenly, someone is putting cheap
champagne in my hand (I’m fairly sure that it is not champagne, but rather some
cheap sparkling. Don’t try to fool me and make me feel important, I’m a Veuve
Clicquot girl, I know a good bubbles between Diamond Nights) and I’m being
ushered to my seat, front row (sometimes I really do love my
job). Tonight, I’m sitting next to Lara Bingle, she seems pleasant and
somewhat doughy, but admittedly she looks great. We engaged in small talk about
our days and experiences with reality television (hers a little more prolific
than mine). Then as I’m trying to get comfortable, some Italian lad pops out of
nowhere and offers me some San Pelligrino and I’m set.
The Vogue and David Jones promotions
start on the four massive screens and Victoria Beckham gets a fair amount of
face time through the Vogue advertisement. It’s directed well and I sit excited
for the show. It begins and unlike previous years I see diversity; it is not a
predominantly female catwalk this year, which I am pleasantly surprised by.
Lara Bingle seems to be enjoying it too, good for her. The procession of the designers
is lengthy, its definitely one of the longest Australian Runway shows I’ve
seen. The clothes? Well, of course they are beautiful, detailed, slightly
avant-garde and as a sucker for male fashion Jack London stood out as a
personal favorite. The trend of leather was back, popping up in almost every
collection. Faux fur and floral prints also grazed the catwalk.
Nevertheless though, something was
not quite right. The clothing was stunning; the models were figureheads to
their garments just as they should have been. The thing is, I’m a critical
writer and I like it that way, so as I am watching the show, at one point I
almost felt transported to a race track (I had attended the Grand Prix only a
day before this event). The models were literally, cantering down the runway.
The designer list I understand was all encompassing and lengthy, but the
sequence was that of something I have not yet seen on a runway. The models
surely worked of their carrot sticks and celery. In all honesty it was too
fast. The audience, this industry, we come to fawn over the garments, the
artistry that envelopes the catwalk. It was a blur however, too quick and I
feel that the audience and myself were slightly cheated.
Luckily, I can
recap to you, my dear readers with stills from every collection. Which is
exceptional because really, some of the garments were outstandingly beautiful.
To me, however, it seemed over before it began.
Next thing I know
I’m having a drink with the Real Housewives of Melbourne; my personal favorite
(am I allowed to have favorites?) is Janet Roach and we talk about the industry
and she’s quite sure we have met before, she’s right, we did – a few years
back. See Janet, is my kind of girl, she’s got sass, she’s blonde, she looks
damn good for her age and I like her attitude towards things. Janet is
straightforward, so we engage in conversation for a while as I text my sister
(who is a huge fan of the show) who is proceeding to loose her marbles at the
mere thought that I’m in their
company.
My night ends the
way it should, I’m sitting at a table with my adorable photographer Andre
Elhay, dear friend and fashion writer Reuben Cheok and my other half. We are
zooming in on awkward red carpet boob mishaps and laughing about years before.
We are deconstructing our gift bags, which, are far below par in my opinion to
previous years. It is to be noted however, that I have never in my life, ever,
been given a can of hair spray so big
from my ‘goodie bag’.
Overall, I had
fun. If you come to fashion week with sky-high expectations then you have
already set yourself up for failure. It’s a big clique, we are a family and
you’re either in it or you’re not (that doesn’t mean you can’t get in, it’s not
really a solid circle of trust). As this is only my first review for the week,
I feel it unfair to comment on how I believe Virgin Australia have handled
their merge into the fashion big leagues. Stay tuned for that review later in
the week. A nice bonus? The Lavazza coffee stand makes you free lattes and
again, the Italian waiters add to a sense of European culture that Melbourne is
so well known for.
Please review the
enticing ‘Opening Event, Presented by David Jones and Supported by Vogue’
designer’s succession below. All clothing is accessible via the Virgin
Australia website or please visit the link below to shop through the runway.
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