It's all happening again— same tents, same liquor sponsors, same faces. (I actually overheard a few excited chicks greet each other with a "happy fashion week!" ). Designer Kevan Hall kicked it off last night in the Main Tent with his fall line inspired by the film Mahogany. I was so excited at the prospect of 70s inspired gowns, furs, brimmed hats, and big hair, that I drooled like a kid on the short bus. The 1975 movie starring Miss Diana Ross, about a girl who dreams about becoming a huge fashion designer was a perfect fit for Hall. But he didn't go full Mahogany. I was immediately suspicous when I saw the first two models down the runway looked like secretaries. Then it didn't get much more fabulous. I thought a handful of the dresses seemed very Junior Prom, a few looked like knock-offs of dresses we've already seen or dresses that are so likely to be knocked off that they already seemed to be knock-offs. But there were a few dazzlers and he didn't disappoint with the fur and the big hair. And there were a few gorgeous gowns. The purple raccoon coat above was a showstopper and by far my favorite. It wasn't a bad show, it's just that Hall played it safe, given the film that inspired him he could have taken the concept so much further...
« February 2006 | Main | April 2006 »
Gen Art Gets Glam
Gen Art presented The New Garde 2006 at the lavish Park Plaza Hotel on Friday night. The place was rank with old Hollywood glamour, it slinked down the grand staircase, waltzed around the ballroom and rested in the wood carved ceilings. This Gen Art show was a far cry from the last one at the Santa Monica airport. This year to celebrate three emerging designers— Christina Scarbo from Kit Pistol, Hajnalka Mandula of Mandula and Suzy Yun of Unhee— stage installations with live model vignettes were set up in different locations around the hotel. At 9 pm, the stages came to life. We were in the Ballroom staring at a large cocoon made of twigs and paper, which looked vaguely like an egg in Aliens. This was the world Mandula had created and suddenly models crawled out wearing shredded tops and bottoms in varying shades of gray, I call the look refugee chic. There was one model who emerged bug eyed and full of wonder, as if she had landed on another planet, she really inhabited the installation and responded 
and reacted to it. The
others annoyingly made model pose-y faces while staring out at the audience completely jarring with the set. We were so annoyed that we moved to the next room where we found Unhee's giant ship. On board were models wearing short
jumpers made of silk with billowy pirate sleeves that walked from one end of the ship to the other whispering and talking to one another. I liked the clothes here best of all, hot little 60's esque numbers, but the opportunity for real drama
was lost on the boring models, who made half-hearted attempts to reenact plank walking, deck swabbing and other swashbuckling activities. I was 
disappointed. Was there any direction? I mean if they were going to go
for it, they should have went all the way.
We headed downstairs to see what Kit Pistol had going on, the day-glow set featured astro-turf, a park bench and children's swing set that had been coated in yellow paint. Models
chased each other squirting water guns, they sucked on bright colored Popsicles and jumped rope. One pushed her Barbie on a swing. It was the most fun to watch, though it was a little fetishistic. And I felt a little pervy to think it was as hot as I did. But it was. It was hot. I liked the flirty dresses and skirts a lot, but I probably wouldn't be caught dead in the plaid padded push-up bra-like top. Despite lackluster performances, I am excited to see what these designers come up with next.
all photos by Tiger Alturas
Off to a Smashing Start
I don't know why, but when I pulled up to Mr. Chow in Beverly Hills for an "intimate" Fashion Week kickoff dinner hosted by Davis and Dean Factor, Michael Baruch and Paul DeArmas, I thought there would be around 30 people there. I did not expect a Who's Who of L.A. fashion and the style addicts who love them. I did not expect Courtney Love, who came with power retailer Tracey Ross and actually looked rather pretty in a heavily made up, plastic sort of way. Fred Segal the man was there, and Jeremy Scott arrived with Devon Aoki. (He's modeling a new Keith Haring tracksuit he designed for Adidas.) It was a bit overwhelming, but Kelly Cutrone from People's Revolution kindly seated me at Petro Zillia designer Nony Tochterman's table, so I was immediately at ease. I interviewed Nony for the Weekly's upcoming fashion issue, and the woman is as fun and spirited as the clothing she designs. 
Over a family style dinner of lettuce wraps, dumplings, filet mignon and melt-in-your-mouth cod, I chatted with jewelry designer Guillaume Pajolec, a funny Frenchman who co-owns Han Cholo in Echo Park, and fellow journalist Martine Bury. It took Martine and me less than five minutes to realize that we're both friends with Caroline Ryder, and just before dessert I called our girl, who is rocking a daringly experimental Vidal Sassoon haircut these days. "Dude," I said, swigging probably my fifth glass of Veuve Cliquot, "I am looking at Vidal Sassoon right this instant. Get yourself and your crazy hair over here NOW." 
Here is the man whose scissors launched a thousand asymmetrical haircuts; who knew he was so tight with Scott Weiland? Alas he had gone by the time Caroline made it, so he couldn't evaluate the work of his disciples.
It was a completely fabulous evening, but it's worth noting that Jeremy Scott doesn't show in L.A. anymore, and even Petro Zillia is sitting out the shows this week (Tochterman and her husband are opening their flagship store in June), which begs the question: what does the future hold for L.A. fashion? 
It clearly influences the way the rest of the world dresses, but as
Guillaume pointed out, it never takes clothing to the artistic extremes
of couture. And maybe that's okay, because they never take their shows
to the dirty denim lows that L.A. is so good at - and which is what
people really wear. Yet the best thing is that even if you're dripping in bling, like the heiress Casey Johnson, here showing me her Loree Rodkin ring, the L.A. attitude always manages to shine through anyway.
Billion Dollar Belle
The Billion Dollar Babes sample sale rolled into the Palladium this weekend, and I would like to say that I was very restrained...until a fabulous taupe Ya-Ya dress jumped into my arms and wouldn't let go. But at least I'm not the only one. French actress Julie Delpy has been a devotee of this mother of all sample sales for three years now, and I chatted for a few moments with the multi-talented femme, best known as the object of Ethan Hawke's undying devotion in Before Sunset. While showing me some of her purchases - a pretty lace blouse from Corey Lynn Calter and a dress from Mason (which she pronounced with a cute French accent) - Delpy, who was designing her own clothing line for a while, told me about some of her upcoming projects. She will appear in Lasse Hallstrom's next film with Richard Gere, as well as a drama called The Air I Breathe with Kevin Bacon and Brendan Fraser; and she will soon direct her first feature, a "secret project," in Paris. In addition, Delpy is preparing for the release of her second album. "I'm famous in France, as a singer," she said, revealing that her first album (many songs from which are heard in Before Sunset) is only available in the U.S. online. I asked if this next release would be sold in stores here, and she said she wasn't even thought about it. "I don't know the music business, there's a lot of prostitutes," she said, "and by prostitutes I mean corruption." Apparently the veteran actress can handle the corruption of the film industry. "I've been in the movie business since I was fourteen; I'm used to it."
Amanda Demme - She Nice
I 
just got back from interviewing Amanda Demme, the so-called Queen of LA Nightlife, and marketing brain behind 'hot' nightlife venues like Teddy's and Tropicana at the Roosevelt. If you go online and google her, you'll find a fair amount of press on Amanda, most of it bitchy gawker.com and Perez Hilton style reportage. So I was expecting Ms Demme to be something of prima donna...
But, as they say the proof of the pudding is in the eating - I just met the girl and she's fucking awesome. No airs, no graces. Despite what she does and who she is, strangely enough she is one of the LEAST Hollywood people I've met in Hollywood. We sat on the porch of her house in the Valley and she chatted about how she started out running the door at The World nightclub in NYC, began managing bands at the age of 21 and about the death of her husband Ted Demme (he directed 'Blow') six weeks after she gave birth to their second child. She talked about how weird it is to have the public spotlight on you, and how it terrifies her. She talked more about her two kids than she did about nightclubs or celebrities. Above all, she struck me as a hard-as-nails businesswoman who could give two shits about the glitz and glamour. "You'd never think it but I'm pretty introverted," she told me.
Believe me, I've interviewed enough people in my time to smell when someone is laying on the "I'm so humble" bullshit. But this girl was 100% legit, a straightforward broad who tells it how it is. Look out for my ass-kissy piece coming out late April in the LA Weekly's People issue.
Posted by Caroline Ryder
PS: DISCLAIMER: I'm not just being nice 'cause I want guestlist for life at Teddy's - I'm more of a filthy Powerhouse/Frolic Room/White Horse/Spotlight/Blacklight kinda girl...
The Kidz Are Alright, Mate!
There was an Aussie Assault at the Troubadour earlier this week, and I got hit, hard! The night started smashingly with a literal rock star parking space: none other than Seal was sitting in a Ferrari convertible outside Dan Tana's, so my uber rock chick friend Laurel chatted up the silky-voiced Mr. Klum while he waited for a friend to pick up takeout for dinner. But really, Heidi, we only wanted his spot! Once inside the club, the bluesy punk duo The Mess Hall made me wanna get dirty with their raw, Iggy-meets-the Gun Club caterwauling (and good lord the singer was nice lookin').
With The Flairz, though, it was love at first riff. This garage rock trio from Perth consists of Dion and John Mariani, 12-year-old cousins who both play guitar and bass and sing (Dion is pictured), and 13-year-old drummer Scarlett Stevens, whose dad Philip is the band's manager. The Flairz (with a z for "zing," said Scarlett) have been at it for the last two-and-a-half years, and were passing through L.A. on their way to SXSW, with most of their parents in tow and the full support of their teachers back in Oz. The trio has a 4-song EP called Rock and Roll Ain't Evil, and Scarlett has already guest-drummed for the likes of Jack Johnson. 
Thanks to parents with good taste, The Flairz have a list of influences that includes Led Zeppelin, Creedence, and of course, AC/DC, and they're also into current bands like Kings of Leon, the White Stripes, the Datsuns, and Wolfmother! Dion was totally jazzed to see the singer of Jet in the crowd, and he told me so with a big grin.
The band's tunes - get a load of "Rockin' On" and "Black Fox" - are as basic as they come, but they're delivered with so much style and gusto that the power of the package is undeniable. It doesn't hurt that Scarlett looks like a young Kirsten Dunst in Minnie Mouse earrings, and Dion is about the most virile young four-foot-tall lad I've ever laid eyes on. 
I mean, come on. Look at these faces. Can you not love them?
We missed the headliners, The Living End, instead rushing to the Fonda to catch Black Rebel Motorcycle Club's set. Underneath the cover of dry ice, some dork pushed his friend into me in a pathetic attempt at flirtation. "What is he, twelve?" I asked Laurel, but then I had to correct myself, because twelve-year-olds are way cooler than that.
Doll Parts
We The Style Council have not posted a blog for several days. We apologize for so severely dropping the ball, and as a gesture of apology bring you Elouai.com.
It's a funny little online program that allows you to build an anime doll character that looks just like you.
See this cute little angel on the left? That's actually what I look like, especially if you've just eaten a handful of shrooms. Aren't I lovely?
Do it.
Risin' Up, Straight to the Top!
Not one but three people I went to high school with were nominated for Oscars last night (Matt Dillon, Dan Futterman, and Bennett Miller) so I was kinda jazzed for the whole whoop-de-doo; I had my spiritual "Go Tigers" pom-poms out (our Mamaroneck High School theme song was Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger”) and I was hoping for my homies to brang it. And, well, that didn't happen, which can be explained for any number of reasons that don’t have much to do with worthiness as far as I can tell - you're still all winners in my book, fellas! – but I know I’m not the only one who thought the whole show had a kind of drab, lackluster, SAFE (read: scared) vibe. How could the trailblazing Jon Stewart morph into such a non-entity? Why did Ang Lee make an “I can’t quit you” joke? Why did the producers show Jamie Foxx and/or Morgan Freeman every time there was a reference to race or pimps? How about the weird anti-DVD propaganda Jake Gyllenhaal was forced to espouse?
Clearly Charlize Theron knows what I'm talking about: the girl was outright miserable. Yet even a bizarro dress like the bunchy, bow-topped Dior number she was wearing could not cause the sunny goddess to transform into Snow White’s evil queen. We SC girls were wondering if she and Stuart Townsend might have broken up like 3 seconds before she walked down the red carpet. Speaking of couples, Theron would have made a fine pair with the creepy Ryan Phillippe, whose skeevy, overgrown facial hair was punctuated with a huge stress zit on his forehead. Dude, this is Hollywood; use some makeup! Was he trying to negate his wife’s relentlessly wholesome perkiness? Confession time (sorry Caroline): I am not a huge fan of Reese Witherspoon. I’ve even interviewed her and she is as cute as a button in person. And yes, she’s a good mom and a nice girl and talented and has insanely perfect skin…and well, need I go on? I just don’t find it such a bold move to portray a beloved American icon who stands by her speed freak man in very stylish outfits. I really wanted to see Felicity Huffman take it home, despite the almost obscenely plunging neckline of her Zac Posen dress.
I started watching the Oscars last night (my first as an LA resident), feeling excited to be part of the town that makes movies happen, and I returned home from my little boozy viewing party feeling just a bit more cynical than I wanted to. Where was the glamour? The magic? There were great films made last year, but when an apparent mainstream agenda speaks louder than the messages of any of the films, I don’t want to listen. Now if Reese Witherspoon took on “It’s Hard Out Here For a Pimp” – then I’d be all ears.