WWD photographer Steve Eichner sees it all and shares his unique perspective from the front lines of New York Fashion Week — from the runways in the morning to the after parties and after-after parties at night.
10:43 a.m.: Models smoking before the show. Looking too young to legally buy cigs. Maybe that’s why they turn and hide as I snap?
11:43 a.m.: HONK, HONK, BEEP BEEP. Swarming street-style shooters literally blocking 10th Avenue capturing looks after the show.
1:14 p.m.: “Is this your first show ever?” I ask Wyclef Jean’s adorable daughter, Angelina. “Yes!” she says, smiling shyly next to her dad.
1:54 p.m.: “I read a person born in 1965, such as myself, has a 14.7 percent chance of reaching 100 years old,” I tell André Balazs. “My daughters’ average life expectancy is 120 years” he replies. “That’s a heck of a lot of fashion shows.”
2:03 p.m.: “Just tell them I’m great,” Roxanne Lowit tells me to tell the crew doing a documentary about her. I do the interview and say, “Roxanne told me to say she’s great, so, she’s great.” I go on to mention her iconic photograph of Linda Evangelista, Naomi Campbell and Christy Turlington, “Speak No Evil, Hear No Evil, See No Evil.” Epic!
3:30 p.m.: Having some rice and beans at a Spanish restaurant on the Lower East Side before the show, I see a bevy of Marc groupies coming out of the subway. They totally stand out in this neighborhood. You would never find these fashion hipsters in this part of town if there was not a fashion show here.
3:55 p.m.: Perfectly manicured lawn and shrubs make up the runway. “Stay off the grass,” the security guy says. Reggae music is wafting through the air. I think, I’m feeling dazed and confused.
8:20 p.m.: Bill Cunningham is sitting next to Jerry and Jessica Seinfeld in the front row. “Hi, Steve,” Jessica acknowledges me. “We had coffee the other day,” I tell her proudly gesturing toward Bill. “Of course you did, two legends, old and new,” she says as Jerry listens. “Photographers not in cars having coffee,” I wish I had said at that moment.
9:02 p.m.: Indochine is totally packed. I dive into the crowd and flash away. If you want to have a party where people get to know each other anatomically, have it here. Hashtag body on body.
9:07 p.m.: “I’m your biggest fan,” I tell Karlie Kloss as she fans herself with a promotional Indochine hand fan.
9:44 p.m.: “She’s such a man-eater,” I overhear someone say about Tory Burch as she arrives with Pierre Yves Roussel. I don’t see why not, I say to myself. She’s beautiful, talented, intelligent, nice and one of the few fashion designers actually making big money. If I was a zillionaire, I’d like to date her too. Hashtag as if.
10:28 p.m.: “It’s a breath spray. It’s a gift, not a hint,” says Craig Dubitsky, CEO of Hello breath spray, as he hands me a sample. “We are sponsoring the party and we do toothpaste, too. If you know all the poisons in your toothpaste you’d freak.” Then he says out of nowhere, “The button is ridiculous. We live in the world of Wi-Fi and that’s as good as it gets. Someone sews a little round thing onto a part of your clothing that you can barely get your fingers on, then cuts a hole in the corresponding piece of fabric on the other side, and sews around the hole so it doesn’t fray. And then, the big advancement is the zipper. It has teeth and that goes near your parts. That’s dangerous.” I’ll buy whatever this guy is selling. Genius.
11:57 p.m.: I spot Tessa Thompson arriving. I track her through the crowd and she sees me and politely stops so I can get my shot. “Thanks, dear.”
12:07 a.m.: “We both have fashion week birthdays,” Laura Mulleavy tells me. “Mine is in September and Kate’s is in February.” Suddenly, a cake appears and “Happy Birthday” is sung. It’s a John Travolta cake. Everyone is wearing Hawaiian shirts. Hmm. I better get outta here. This is gonna get wild!
Click here for Eichner’s Eye: Day 5 >>