New York Fashion Diary
Hilfiger, hotties and Neil Diamond singalongs: A helluva fashion week finale
Naeem KahnPhoto by Jemal Countess/Getty Images for Mercedes-Benz
Tommy HilfigerPhoto by Frazer Harrison/Getty Images for Mercedes-Benz
Naeem KahnPhoto by emal Countess/Getty Images for Mercedes-Benz
Tommy HilfigerPhoto by Frazer Harrison/Getty Images for Mercedes-Benz
Tommy HilfigerPhoto by Frazer Harrison/Getty Images for Mercedes-Benz
Naeem Kahn
Tzzzt. Tzzzzzzzzzt. Can you feel it? That’s the palpable sense of electricity building up inside the Bryant Park tents Thursday evening, as J. Mendel, Naeem Khan and Tommy Hilfiger unleashed their fall collections at Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week in Manhattan. Some heavy hitters—namely Ralph Lauren and Calvin Klein—showed fall lines earlier in the day, but elsewhere in the city. What—do you fellas have no sense of history, no appreciation for the theatricality of this moment?
Sorry, dudes—but the place to be on Thursday was Bryant Park. For one last hurrah.
Hilfiger held the last time slot on the last day of this, the last-ever Fashion Week to be held at this midtown location. Seems ironic he should score this honor, given that he’s the one who in recent years moved his runway show uptown, to Lincoln Center. He’s the guy who showed the fashion world how it could be done. To some degree, at least, Fashion Week organizers must’ve been paying attention.
Come September, that’ll be the new hub for this twice-a-year gathering of America’s top designers, models, retailers and reporters, style-savvy celebs, high-society doyennes, paparazzi, fashionistas, DJs, bloggers, stylists, publicity chicklets, Olsen twins, Anna Wintour wannabes, and those lovably random wack-jobs with wardrobes that can make Pat Field look nun-like. (A brittle, neon-haired nun, granted.)
For those of us not blessed with a budget to spring for a town car and driver, the prospect of running back and forth to Broadway and West 66th Street—a local stop on the No. 1 subway line, rather than the easier-to-reach Bryant Park, just a block from Times Square—isn’t exactly appealing. Sure, the gigundo Chagalls hanging in the atrium of the Metropolitan Opera House are stunners, but who’ll have time to look up when you’re sprinting across the plaza, late for Rodarte or Charlotte Ronson?
But I digress….
Among the last designers to show in Bryant Park was Gilles Mendel, who held a presentation of his luxe J. Mendel collection. This was a fur lover’s bacchanal: coats, hats, muffs, shoulder puffs (what else to call them?) and more. There were dramatic dresses, too, including a wide-strapped trumpet gown in revved-up, iridescent red.
Naeem Khan delivered enough sequins, bullion beads and sparkly paillettes to christen a new sun king. He paired a metallic brocade motorcycle vest with an ostrich feather skirt. Call it “Haute Hell’s Angels” attire. But the real head-turners were figure-skimming sheaths adorned with small circular mirrors, reflecting the lights and sights of the tent.
Finally—Tommy Time—and the front row became a grab bag of Hollywood hotties, including Rosario Dawson, Hayden Panettiere, Ashley Olsen, Brooke Shields, and those musical Brit chicks from The Tings Tings, Jules De Martino and Katie White. Gossip Girl’s Ed Westwick and Penn Badgley also sat front row, across the runway from Vogue’s Anna Wintour.
It felt like a party. As the audience piled in, strains of Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline” hit the loudspeakers, and the photographers at the foot of the runway couldn’t resist singing the trumpet’s refrain—“Whoa, whoa, whoa!!”—and in tune. (More or less.) Soon after, they became sentimental, in unison shouting “Thank you, Bryant Park!”
Hilfiger’s clothes struck a savvy balance between clean, collegiate prep and polished sophistication: a tank made of seersucker, cashmere “sweatshirts,” exploded knit cowls, a crisp cotton top and moiré pleat skirt worn with a sleeveless trench. Confident, with pops of color (tomato red, green, blue).
At the end, Hilfiger took to the runway himself, mic in hand, thanking Fashion Week organizers “for hosting us for 18 years,” he said. “This is the last show at Bryant Park. And now, onward and upward to Lincoln Center.”
Cue the applause, as the DJ drops in a recording of Alicia Keys singing Jay-Z’s “Empire State of Mind.” We all slowly filed out onto Sixth Avenue, with the lyrics ringing in our heads:
These streets will make you feel brand new,
The lights will inspire you,
Let’s hear it for New York, New York, New York…
