Crowd control

The street is empty on the walk home. Good. The whole night was crowded. The pit was full, the seats were taken, the crowd spilled onto each side of the runway. It was the way it always is.

The shows were Pink Tartan and Joe Fresh, which draw numbers. But the latest last-minute venue the FDCC has found is huge. We didn’t have to sweat.

The tape spins, the quotes go down, the take-out is devoured. We bring cups of tea downstairs; watch the quiet night. The words: fashion week continues until April 1 finish the copy. The clock blinks 3:30, April 1. The story goes in.

Britt of Shirk in between shows

Heels (sort-of) required

Definitely not Ken

The tarts of Tartan

Pink Tartan begins with violin

The photographers didn't know his name, but he used his MuchMusic mic as a weapon

Sarah of Pink Tartan, is all biz-ness

it ends with a bouquet of white flowers.

Rain and the rockstar's daughter

And on the third day, there was rain. The formerly fresh black carpet leading into the temporary tents set up for the fashion crowd grew damp and disgusting as the day went on. By nightfall the rain had stopped but the damage was done, leaving the event undeniably un-glamorous once the smell of the nearby slaughterhouse was accounted for.

No bother. Canadians can glam up anything and play pretend. And so we did watching grocery store garments come down the runway with surprising style and grace. To Joseph Mimran, the man first behind Club Monaco and now Joe Fresh, a thank-you is in order. The Canadian style king brought out Theodora Richards, the darling daughter of one Keith Richards, who sauntered down the runway with her signature smirk.

And to his wife, Ms. Kimberely Newport-Mimran, thanks for models who have been trained to walk, and for the mesh, the rolled up sleeves, the sequins, and the edge we honestly weren’t expecting. Well tailored, well played.

With that it was twenty-something time with the pack of trendy young things stuffed into Carte Blanch where work by Hannah and Kavin was on the walls. Drinks and dancing to ironic ‘90s pop hits, as expected. It ended as quickly as we arrived and after the owner took to the counter top for his list of thank-yous it was out the door and into a cab, and as the others continued on to the next party I called it a night.

A night, it was.

*You can read my runway roundup on Canada.com here.

By TheDavidPike

By TheDavidPike