Who Is Fashion Week For This Year?

It's back and in full swing.

Before I get into it, let me start by saying that this whole newsletter is about the fact that fashion is not frivolous. This won't be an essay about why clothing is dumb "in these trying times," so if you want that echo chamber, it's not going to be here. I will admit, however, that fashion week, which started in New York on Tuesday, feels strange this year. I have been so privileged to sit at shows for the last decade, witnessing the artistry of some of the most incredible designers come to life on the runway. After a year of missing out on that part of my job, I was looking forward to seeing fashion spark again.

So, I headed to Collina Strada yesterday, which took place at the Brooklyn Grange in Sunset Park. It's a community garden, the perfect setting for the sustainable messaging that the brand has been so staunch in putting out with each collection. The clothing was fun and weird, the models — all of whom were different ages and sizes — danced down the runway as they tugged on the trains of their dresses, or hugged each other when they passed. People in the crowd, even the fashion industry elite who typically sit stoically as they eye collections, were clapping and laughing. A little girl dressed as a bug didn't know what to do, and people giggled and cheered her on. At one point, when two models embraced at the end of the runway celebrating this triumphant moment, I teared up. As I watched them, I tugged at my mask and pushed my sunglasses a little higher, so no one could tell I was moved by their emotion (plus, my mascara wasn't waterproof. I'm still not used to being in public). I found myself thinking about how this is what fashion is supposed to be, not the "scene" of cool people around me. Not the street style outside, which feels empty and insular now. Or the photos I'm going to take on my phone to prove to people that I was there. Or the famous people in groups taking selfies. It's about how clothing can move you so much that you jump around and clap or cry.

Still, I don't know that having an entire fashion month filled with dozens of shows around the world will accomplish that. When that show ended, 50 people piled in cars to go to the next show, and the next, and the next. I imagine, except for a few designers, using recycled fabrics or making a collection made-to-order in the climate crisis will not be a priority over the next few weeks. The simple fact that making new clothing every season is not a viable way forward will be ignored, and no solutions will be mentioned. The garment workers in Los Angeles, who are fighting to pass SB62 (which would guarantee them the minimum wage they are not currently being paid), will not have a part of this fashion parade, and yet they will bear the brunt of its impact when the orders come in.

On my social media, I asked if anyone cared about fashion week with a simple yes or no poll. It was sort of a silly question, but I wanted to know if the pandemic had changed anyone's minds about the opulence of the whole thing. Unsurprisingly, most people said they no longer cared. Some people who I would consider my "fashion friends" said they couldn't be bothered to pay attention. "I'm tired of the fashion cycles," one person responded about why they don't care. "The cool factor is gone when it has bad effects on the environment," another person explained.

I don’t think the solution is to end Fashion Week, but to rethink what it looks like and means. The premium placed on making everything new, and having the latest and wearing the latest is leading us on a direct road downward. I loved how Collina Strada used recycled materials and put spirit into clothing that so often feels sucked out in favor of profit and trend. I want to be conscious of that. I want to call it out when climate and people are not being considered – maybe then Fashion Week will have more totality and feel fun and alive in a real way again.