Apparently recovering pop-rocker Sheryl Crow made an appearance over the weekend at the Academy of Country Music awards, modeling an ensemble from the Lingerie department of Sears, Roebuck circa 1974. The bustier says “lifts and separates, tucks and squeezes,” while the flowing pants say, “and then there’s Maude.” And the stylist says, “Hey, I had an alibi!”
On the one hand, it’s great to see Docs back. On the other hand, THIS. Thanks, Alicia Auaa.
I keep telling people that Canadians are the most passive-aggressive people in the world (why else do you think we’re so polite? To set up the zings better) and nobody believes me. Maybe after reading this tale of tears, treachery, and trickery at Vancouver Fashion Week, you’ll take my word for it.
Noël’s inexperience with financial administration resulted in an embarrassingly public scandal—on October 2 of 2009, credit card fraud allegations shut down BC Fashion Week mid-runway show, under the supervision of RCMP officers…[literally, they busted up the show and took to the runway. No word on whether or not they “sashayed”]
Perhaps chief among the practical problems is the way Vancouver Fashion Week presents itself as a recognized “global platform for designers, buyers, media representatives, and sponsors,” but its early November dates position it too late in the season for the aforementioned all-important fashion buyers. Add to this the fact that the self-described “global platform” is frequently derided as having “high school” production values, including the fact that last year, aspiring models were “hired” via Craigslist. “I was paid $700 [in total] to model in their first year,” says one London-based catwalker familiar with the Vancouver scene, “and I think that was the last year they paid anyone.”
No wonder we’re the third worst-dressed city in the world.
Vivienne Westwood is my very favoritest crazy person, and if I had the money I would buy this and wear it every day, especially to and from the grocery store, and always with the hat.
I would wear the below, from Mary Katrantzou, only on the rare occasion that I am invited to a costume party and have no dearer wish than to make myself look like a table lamp in an acid flashback.