This morning I ventured out to the Grand Palais, where as part of Paris Fashion Week the Chanel show was taking place. I had done a similar thing in New York, heading up to Lincoln Centre to see what it all looked like. What it looks like is a sea of people; many with cameras, many in their carefully orchestrated outfits, waiting to be photographed by the sea of bloggers. Some are recognisable, and others are hopeful. To say it’s bizarre really doesn’t describe it, but I can’t quite figure out how else to sum it up. I understand the irony of posting this to a blog, but take this as my attempt to try and comprehend this side of fashion.
To me, from the outside, it seems there must be a clear division between the runway show itself, and its aftermath. Leaving the spectacular surrounds of the Grand Palais and the Chanel show and walking through the sea of cameras and getting your picture taken must be unsettling. Then there is a sudden swell; the rush of the mob as Grace Coddington or Anna Dello Russo steps out. In the end I find myself asking what contribution any of this makes. On the sidelines I see Scott Schuman observing it all stoically, perhaps thinking something similar… and I wonder if even among the bloggers there is a sense of division. Bill Cunningham, like a magpie, darts in and out in his blue jacket, swiftly snapping at unexpected details. I guess like all professions there is a hierarchy; those who strive to contribute an original or at least thoughtful perspective, and those who don’t.