Joseph Lanier/Trilogy
I hustled my way over to building 47 for UDC’s annual fashion show. It was said to start at 7:00 pm, so I left the Trilogy office at 7:15 sharply, as I tend to adhere to the concept of being ‘fashionably late’. The crowd had gathered in the vestibule area of the gym and had already broken down on a cellular level: the jock-types sat on the stairs craning their necks at attractive girls entering the building, and the kids working on their ‘freshman 15’ were lined up for an odd combination of popcorn, cotton candy…and condoms. Lastly, there was a steady stream of students who made a bee line right for the photo station.
The station was set up similar to the ones you see at mediocre nightclubs, but it was made irresistible by one key factor: you could get your photo put on white tee for free-ninety-nine. I stood and watched a plethora of poses that probably originated in the southeastern portion of Washington, D.C. and then decided to hop in on the action myself. At about 7:20, everyone began filing into the gym. We were made to arc around a large portion of the gym to the area where seating was, because the fashion show only utilized a little less than half of the large space. As I made my way to my seat, I took into account that a lot of effort went into the set-up of the runway, and the event was well-attended, with all available seats occupied 15 minutes before the show began. The section of guys behind me didn’t mind standing. Trigger fingers were poised on camera phones as the more eager guys awaited the inevitable wardrobe malfunctions that are, and have always been, the trademark of college fashion shows.
At 7:47, in came the smoke. It traveled leisurely down the length of the runway, greeting the tips of the protruding feet of those who sat on the inner rows. The host of the show strolled out with a black Valentino dress that looked elegant from the front, and somewhat raunchy in the back. Maybe that was foreshadowing, because my thoughts on her dress were somewhat parallel to my thoughts on the entire evening: though the show attempted to adhere to its ambitious theme, at least one portion of the show was definitely caught in 2005-esque time warp. Baby tees, tights and heels do not constitute an urban look, no matter who is wearing it, so that portion of the show ran like an old Nelly video. At least, it did make the rest of the show’s designs appear far more imaginative in comparison.
I tried to remind myself to focus more on the designs than the models, and it would have been a far better show if the models would’ve subscribed to that principle as well. Some models were so ostentatious with their runway form, the clothing was downplayed. Adjusting and tugging of barely-there clothing during the walking was distracting as well. Hey, if it doesn’t fit, you ‘musta’quit. I could bullet-point the other things that I felt were lacking from this show, but I won’t. There is always room for improvement, and what’s most admirable is that the show was well-attended, the performance was agreeable, and the crowd seemed to have enjoyed themselves as well.
The designers that stood either proudly or primly in the audience beamed as the models sashayed their designs amidst cheers, applause—and some inappropriate comments. So who was most fashionable? Cote Minou is definitely one of the stars of the evening. She was so sharply dressed, I remarked in passing that perhaps she should give the runway a try, to which she timidly replied ‘I’m just a designer.’ Touché.
As I exited the gym, I spotted one of the models from the show. She was still in full makeup and a skintight black mini-dress, but she had switched from the death defying platform stilettos and had decided to take advantage of the last bit of popcorn. She had also stopped holding her stomach in, and was smacking her lips loudly as she chewed. I must’ve stared a bit long, because she shot me a nasty glance and rolled her eyes. I love UDC.
