UPDATE: The original headline of this article, “Buyers a No-Show at Mik Cire,” implied that no buyers attended. As the piece states, four buyers didn’t make it, leaving their front-row seats open for other attendees (including The Observer). But according to the organizers, who were understandably dismayed by the headline’s implication, quite a few other buyers did attend—including those from Bloomingdales, Saks 5th Avenue, Macy’s and Gilt.com. The Observer regrets the error.
Day three of Fashion Week and people start to get cynical. Before the start of the Lincoln Center runway show for Mik Cire, a menswear line started in 2010 by designer Eric Kim (boringly, the line’s name is just Mr. Kim’s backwards), the Observer overheard Michael Musto—wearing a colorful paisley blazer and matching tie—talking to a group of trannies about the Patricia Fields party the night before.
“It was fun,” he said, his voice reserved, “But it was like every other party she’s ever had.”
Down the runway, Jay Alexander was trying to do a sound bite for Fashion News Live.
“I’m the fabulous Jay Alexander from America’s Next Top Model and—” he flubbed the line and began laughing.
“Try it again,” the camera guy said, not smiling.
He nailed it the second time.
“I haven’t seen any real trends yet,” Mr. Alexander told the Observer, “but the good thing is I haven’t seen any camel toe.” He belly-laughed with a big gesture, though strangely silent, using the Observer’s arm to prop himself up. “Last season it was camel everything,” he said.
The Observer noticed a suprising amount of men in fur—fur coats, fur boas, fur hats. Time will tell whether or not this is a trend.
Two publicists began shouting at each other, as if to cue the audience that the show was starting soon.
“Tell him now! Tell him hurry up! The show is starting in three minutes!”
Two minutes later, the Observer heard what might be the week’s refrain, from the same publicist who was just yelling: “If you want to sit in the front row go ahead. The buyers aren’t coming.”
Ten minutes later the show began.
Mr. Kim’s clothes were all-black with layered details; intricately made, if not exactly thrilling to watch stomp down a runway. The biggest reaction from the audience was a slight chuckle over a model’s unfortunately ugly blond beard.
Behind us, someone was explaining to a friend that he was planning on going home and staying in for the evening. “It’s just too much,” he said. “I feel like death.”
Hey, that’s Fashion Week.