ﬂoaty blouson tops, 1950s style print sundresses, parachute pants
and knickerbockers, sparkles (sequins and gems studded many of the
garments seen during the week), singlets of the mesh and racer-backed
variety, leggings worn under mini-dresses or oversized tops, metallic
fabrics, polka dots, stilettos, sun visors and sweatbands.
Pink from baby to fuschia, royal purple, mauve, beige, teal, lemon
yellow, tangerine, aqua, cobalt blue, emerald green, ruby red, white,
russet, khaki, lettuce green and, of course, metallic silver and
Shoe designer Terry Biviano’s Cirque de Soleilesque extravaganza
featuring Lady Godiva-like models on horseback wearing nothing but
heels, a trapeze artist, whirling dervish like dancers, Las Vegas-style
showgirls and some of the most beautiful pairs of shoes ever seen.
I know this gives my age away but I loved the INXS at Peter Morrissey’s:
it made me feel 16 all over again.
A tie between Tim O’Connor and Gabriel Scarvelli.
place to be seen at
The Vogue VIP Pink Room. You needed a special pass to get
in here and once you got past the burly security guards and the
icy stares of the Aussie Vogue crew, it proved to be a lot
of fun, mostly for the people-watching—but also for the glasses
of Moët and the size six canapés.
If people think that fashion weeks are all about champagne, pretension
and small talk then the opening event at Sydney’s beautiful Opera
House did little to dispel the myth. Utterly fabulous, this event
was worth the trip alone.
A far cry from the excesses of many of the shows, Paablo Nevada
decided to go for heritage and culture and showcased its summer
2003–4 collection at the Mitchell Library Reading Room. Filled to
the brim with beautifully bound books and decorated with breathtaking
stained-glass windows, it was the perfect space to display a range
which was quietly elegant and softly serene.
Forget the clothes, the goodie bags are what the fashion press are
really after. Some of the best included Aveda hair products and
make-up, Husk herbal tea, a coffee maker, mini-bottles of Fra Angelico,
singlet tops, MAC lipsticks, chocolates and perfume.
The San Pellegrino, of course. This is mainly because it was delivered
on silver trays by some very hunky male specimens who would not
have been out of place on the catwalks.
Tsubi. Clutching our Tsubi invites in our hands, fellow Lucire
correspondent Carolyn Enting and I decided to shun this show, staged
aboard a glass-bottomed boat, after witnessing many hapless fashionistas
holding on for dear life as it rocked wildly from side to side and
looked in danger of sinking. In the end, it turned out to be a wise
decision. From all accounts the show was a total flop and consisted
mainly of a gaggle of scantily clad models racing from one end of
the boat to the other before hurling themselves overboard. We had
much more fun drinking champagne and watching the world go by at
the Posh bar.—NC-B