I’ll Be Your Runaway Girl

Previous to the dudemanbro’s present at Huffer, and their consequential combined affinity for slouchy beanies and ironic glasses: I partook in the Karen Walker show at Stephen Marr in Newmarket.

If we were to graph my excitement, it would be an exponential function: which would show very strong correlation to enjoyment.

After a week of Fashion Week,, my accompanying thoughts on its being, and the luxuriant concept the public has of it: the show was a breath of fresh air. Not quite a literal breath of fresh air, with Friday being hideous weather, and Stephen Marr not being designed to host 7 million people at one time: regardless the effort was made by all who attended: Aja Rock, Antonia Prebble, a plethora of models, stylists and various business people of limited interest. Most importantly and excitingly: Karen was present.

Having followed her career since she sold men’s overcoats in Crane Brothers: even the proximity-induced-excitement was difficult to bear

The runway was a u-shaped figure cleared of people by the surly bouncers. It was difficult to see, however my skill prevailed, and excellent shots were produced. True to Karen Walker style, the dresses were feminine, with a subtle hint of masculinity, with pants and tailored jackets being the inverse of this. Leather bucket hats of varying colours were included, along with new season sunglasses: Vinnyspied were some gold rimmed super-duper strengths – which will be purchased ASAP. The collection rung through the theory that a Karen Walker piece is timeless in anyone’s wardrobe: men or women’s.

Post-show, I was introduced to Karen Walker. Albeit after talking to the editor of Yen magazine (Vinny H being a hilariously ironic downgrade), Karen was ridiculously lovely. In this instance, by previous conceptions of Fashion Week was overturned. I know what you must be thinking in reading this: “Fickle Vinny loves fickle Fashion Week,” – however, in the words of Jafar “I am an excellent judge of character,” and Karen Walker: changed my life.

Imagine: a party filled with people who look down on you: perhaps because of your clothes, perhaps for your low-brow publications, or perhaps even because of the ‘social class’ you appear to be from. People like this don’t have a greater understanding of existence: Karen Walker’s niceness coupled with the theory that we only exist in context created a vortex of mind-imploding niceness that reversed an entire week of me having a shitty time. Karen continued to tell me about her amazing team behind her, and even asked how to spell my name. She is part of the small minority at Fashion Week - who maintains proper etiquette decorum: even at a party thrown for her achievement. This is a testament to her, and I am glad, and proud that she is the type of person the world is seeing come from New Zealand.

People should take a page out of Karen Walker’s book, and remember to be humble and polite regardless of achievement.

Karen Walker made Fashion Week for me. In the most surprising way.

x Vinny H