After a Fashion

MODELS, INC. Saturday night on Sixth Street is not my usual beat, but there we were, watching the waves of Sixth Street denizens sporting their Saturday night best -- girls in tube tops, hot pants, and strappy sandals, and guys in baggy shorts, T-shirts, and baseball caps. Horrible. Why is it that young girls want to look like lapdancers and young men want to look like children? It was with grave trepidation that we attended the Ubermodels first anniversary show at the Living Room. It was also with a sense of sincere hopefulness that this show would be better than the first Ubermodels show. At that time, I railed about fashion shows in nightclubs: how they are not good venues to actually see the fashion being presented. Combine that with colored lights, fog machines, and drunken people, one begins to wonder why people bother to do fashion shows in nightclubs in the first place. Who are they really for? The regular clubgoer is surprised and a little disconcerted when they have to pay more at the door for something they don't really care about, and the people who really do care would rather be anywhere else than a nightclub. The Living Room was no exception. I have regularly complained about lack of seating at club shows; it is impossible to see anything when everyone's crowded around the runway. If you can't see the clothes, why are you there? At least chairs would keep the crowd at bay, allowing for greater visibility. This show was no exception. In fact, it was worse. It took place on a sunken dancefloor.

The folks at Ubermodels are always so kind and pleasant that when I attend their "fashion shows," I'm saddened and surprised that their shows are not about fashion at all -- the shows are about models … or wannabe models, often recruited two hours before the show. That in itself clears up the confusing "fashion" part: There's no time for fittings or selection of the best clothes for that particular model, but of course, we're talking in general terms about trendy, throw-away fashion with a high Lycra content that doesn't require much fitting … you know, tube tops and stretchy hot pants. Paired with strappy sandals, of course. And then there are the models. There may have been a few professionals in the group: the ubiquitous Sky Black, among them, but most seemed uncomfortable and nervous -- especially the guys, who, though good looking, looked terrified to be out there. The female models offered an assortment of looks. The frat boys in front of us drooled over a model that looked like she was all of 14 years old, and criticized another model who looked "elderly … at least 40," they said. I asked them, and a number of others around them, if they had come specifically to see the show. The answers ranged from "No!" to "Hell, no!" Sadly, I did not stay for the bikini segment (with that many models, every salon that does bikini waxing must have been booked for days in advance). Nor did I want to view the drool-fest that would occur when these babes were jiggling their tits and asses onstage. In retrospect, however, it must be said that there was vast improvement from last year's presentation. It seems like the Ubermodels are told that this is their one moment of glory on the runway, and that they'd better flaunt whatever they've got. With models who have little experience, this often leads to embarrassing exhibitions that would seem tacky even at Club Exposé. The show was different this time; the models appeared much more professional simply by virtue of the fact that they held themselves in check (or were told to) and did straight runway work.

It got me thinking how there's such a disparity between shows put on by designers, whose main interest is making the clothes look fabulous, and modeling agencies who are marketing human flesh. These are both components of the same fashion machine, and yet on a totally different wavelength from each other. The word "fashion" means many different things to many different people, and there's room for all interpretations, but what exactly is the purpose of a show like the Ubermodels one? It's not about the clothes, so it's not really a "fashion" show, it's a "model" show. What's the purpose of a model show like this? If it's about promoting the model, what's the purpose of marketing her to drunken frat boys? They are not the ones who will hire her. Is it to provide experience for the models? Perhaps, but what experience do they get from parading around in a bikini in front of drunken frat boys? Why not get them involved with designers, retailers, and photographers who can actually provide them with the serious experience they need? Hmmm. Interesting concept, no?