How Fashion Became a Show
There are, on average, 152 fashion weeks that take place throughout the world every year according to a recent New York Times report. Showing at each of the fashion weeks are anywhere between twenty to one hundred twenty designers. It doesn’t take complicated math to calculate that these statistics make the average number of individual fashion shows around the world per year a well over 9,000. To blow your mind even more, that number doesn’t include any fringe or independent shows that are produced but not associated with an organized “Fashion Week”.
There is no doubt that fashion shows are big business. Customers spend their hard-earned money on clothing and accessories to the tune of $300 billion dollars a year, and designers are constantly competing for their share of the market. it is a contentious and cutthroat environment that feeds a designer’s fears of being overlooked in a sea of supply that inherently demands for fashion shows to become bigger, better and more memorable with every passing season. But, it wasn’t always this way.
Designer presentations have been going on in some form since the first designer had a garment to sell. In the beginning, it was a more proper yet casual affair. The designer would invite her clients and other friends in the trade to her atelier to view their newest creations. The presentation could consist of just a handful of looks or it could be a wardrobe full of options. The number of looks wouldn’t really matter. What mattered was the quality of the garments, not the quality of the show.
Models would casually float around the salon in the specially made frocks while the client admired the designer’s careful craftsmanship and romanticized about the adventures she would have while wearing the garments. If a client saw something that she fancied, she bought it. From inception, clothing was designed with an intimate knowledge of the customer, their wants and needs. The system was elegant, straightforward and it worked.
Those were the couture days. As ready to wear clothing became more popular in the 1920’s and the majority of people bought their frocks off the rack from retailers, more and more designers were born, all with the goal of fulfilling their own niche within the public’s ever expanding catalog of preferences and tastes. To make a name for themselves a designer has to stand out from their competition and capture the consumer’s attention, so, naturally, collection presentations became extravagant productions with a touch of healthy narcissism. Bigger was better.
Today we’ve gone beyond the “show” and have begun presenting full runway spectacles. Complete with actors slash models, directors, producers, publicists, marketing and sales people, stylists, set designers a sound track and of course – costumes. Fashion has borrowed from the theater and shares most everything in common. All but the box office, at least for now.
Until recently, the seats in the Tents were occupied exclusively by buyers from large retailers, magazine editors from the top fashion publications, private clients, celebrity stylists and other industry critics. The shows were given by the Trade for the Trade. A runway show was the pinnacle of business in that at a single fashion show a designer could potentially gain several editorial features, sell the collection to major retailers, communicate with their customers through the media, sell one-of-a-kind pieces directly to A-list celebrities, nurture their private clients, and present their brand in their own vision thereby strengthening its chance of lasting success.
This year, Bryant Park will put up its tents for the last time before fashion week moves to Lincoln Center, and it is already being reported that in the once coveted and exclusive seats will be seated child bloggers, today’s hot pop singers, the new generation of young Holywood, and don’t let us forget our favorite reality “stars” including the cast of The Jersey Shore. The runway is looking more and more like the cover of a tabloid magazine than a respectful showing of an artist’s work. In fact, the people who will be profiting from all the media attention is no longer the designer but rather the pop-culture icon.
It just leaves me thinking that Seventh on Sixth made a fundamental mistake and they should move fashion week to Broadway or the Kodak Theater in Hollywood instead of Lincoln Center. After all, in the name of the show the clothing presented on the runway is a dramatized version of their saleable realities anyways which actually makes them costumes.
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