So late I know, you already seen so many fash week pics out here in blogosphere you probz don’t wanna see no more. Askies skat, been a busy week. Not really, but hey…
Anyway, here are some of my highlights, not all of them, but I really enjoyed shooting these. They included my two favourite shows, Adriaan Kuiters (in collabo with artist Jody Paulsen) and David Tlale, really love what they did with their menswear, and normally I can’t fucking stand menswear shows at our fashion weeks. Even in fashion school, I dreaded it when I was required to design menswear for projects. But this time around I fell in love with what these two designers hooked up.
They also happened to be the only two designers who hosted their shows offsite, Adriaan Kuiters at the South African National Gallery, David on that unfinished ramp in the city, and the sun was out, not that the crowd let that get in the way of wearing their fur. Dead animals everywhere, bits of front row smelled like a chinchilla cemetery. Oh, and thankfully both designers configured the seating so that there was only front row, so errbody at the shows was f-rowing. If you hear anyone bragging about how they was front row at David’s show, tell ’em to stop acting basic, everybody was.
Personally I love it when designers do that, I have such front row issues, ever since a few years back when I misread my ticket and sat upfront only to be removed by one of my least favourite people on this planet, because as life would have it, it was his chair, and mine was actually at the very back row, you know, that place normally reserved for people who pay for fashion week tickets. #death
Sulky fag that I am, ever since then I never use my f-row tickets, preferring to go sit my ass on the floor in the photographer’s pit, where I can watch the fashion set occasionally unseat each other as they fight for their place in fashion’s rather transient ecosystem. I know I’m being a grudgy little pussy, but hey…and to my fellow gender activists, hashtag disclaimer: I mean pussy as in a cat, as in meow, not c**t, and therefore am not in anyway projecting negative character traits onto vaginas. Are we okay? Good. Enjoy.
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