Interview

Paris is a relief after Milan. Milan is not beautiful. Paris is beautiful. The population is interesting and attractive. The food is good. The schedule lasts ten days, but hey, you're in Paris! And after this it's over. (PHOTO: GLENN, WITH ROBIN GIVHAN, AT LANVIN, IN COMME DES GARCONS. PHOTO: STYLE.COM)

This morning, waking up in Paris, in my lovely old hotel, where the service is wonderful unless it involves electronics, I spent a few grumbling minutes logging into the Internet, typing in codes and passwords that involve substantial sums of money to get onto the web which locally tends to go unexplainable haywire at odd moments. Was it the exclamation points or the italics? Is it the weather?  I wanted to get the news and maybe check in on yesterday's shows on style.com.  I like looking at the "Front Row" section to see if I'm in there. This particular morning there I was next to Robin of the Washington Post at Balenciaga. (The most fantastic show so far.) I looked a little tired but I was glad I wore my old bright yellow knit tie from Comme des Garcons. Then I checked in on a fashion website Fashionista, which follows this bizarre world and can be amusing, and there I was mentioned in notes on the shows made by Britt Aboutaleb, with whom I haven't had the pleasure.

Before I get to that, let me review a few of the interesting points Britt brings up.

1. "Everyone here wears fur. Seriously, it's incorporated into almost every outfit."
This is interesting. Many, many of the shows in New York, Milan, and Paris have involved fur. There is probably more fur used now than ever, or at least since the medieval era. Or maybe since we lived in caves. We didn't see any protesters in Milan but they are here in Paris, an quite vocal, and their number doubles on the weekend. I was with our fashion editor Laetitia yesterday, who was wearing a fur jacket on a very chilly day, so we gave the protesters wide berth. They mostly looked sad and tired although they did perk up every time someone in fur walked by. Almost all of them were wearing leather shoes or boots (unpolished.) I said to Laetitia that they probably hang out at McDonalds between shows.

2. "The only champagne I've seen was an empty bottle on the Boulevard Saint-Germain last night. 1-0 London."
Honey, I don't know where you've been hanging out, but I have had numerous glasses here and there. At the Purple Dinner (it was actually heavy hors d'ouevres) at Olivier Zahm and Andre's new restaurant or club the other night the Veuve Clicquot was flowing like, well, wine, alongside Andre's Belvedere X vodka.  There is perhaps more prosecco served at shows in Milan than there is champagne in Paris, but if designers didn't serve drinks and food in Milan no one would have time to eat or drink. Okay, here
I come:

3. "I've been captivated by the politics of seating this season. In Paris, the Carines and Anna Della Russos sit in front, naturally, but I've seen Derek Blasberg and Glenn O'Brien sit second row while Kate Lanphear is in the third." Lets explain this. I don't go to shows where they put me in anything but the first row. If I did I would "lose face" as the shoguns and samurai say, were I to assign myself to the position of an accessories editor or financial paper fashion writer. I am not a snob. (Well, not that kind.) And truth be told I probably have more friends in the second row than the first.

This doesn't happen too often. Never in New York or Milan, but it sometimes happens in Paris. They sent me a second row invitation to two shows by Japanese designers, and naturally I didn't go. I would lose face. Very bad.

This must be fixed or it means war.  I also got a second row invitation from Nina Ricci. Why? Well Nina Ricci died at 87 in 1970. Maybe the PR is very, very old.  Now I was spotted in the second row at Rick Owens. By the time I got there my seat was occupied. Rather than look for my name under the ass of all the people I see every day and in the absence of a doting clipboard I went to stand in the back, but a lovely person in the second row, sensing my possible consignment to humiliation, insisted I take her seat. I demurred but she insisted. So I sat in the second row. It wasn't so bad. Really. I leaned forward a lot. I was almost in the front row. I don't know where Derek Blaberg was for that one. Lots of people seem to move from first to second to third including Mr. Blasberg, the fur wearing bon vivant from St. Louis who has contributed brilliantly to this magazine. He has first row written all over him, but he's young yet.)  Anyway, sitting in the second row is good once in a while. Keeps you humble.

But the front row thing is a big deal. Some people would rather leave than sit in the second row. I sat way back last year at the anniversary Margiela show which was "open seating," but in fact had reserved seats. An associate of mine who shall remain nameless actually got a PR person to move someone out of the front, lest his large frame be consigned to virtual shame and oblivion, but I figured I'd sit with friends in the Margiela spirit. In fact the front row isn't easy. There is so much pressure to be there that the PRs add seats in a last minute panic, so a row goes like this, 1,2,3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 9a, 10, 10a.  You have 12 people in a space that would comfortably seat 8.  It is, of course, ridiculous but this is the world we live in. As for Kate Lamphear, well she's lovely and a true sport with no phony attitudes, and I'd rather sit in the second row with her than in the first row next to the people I'm not sure if I'm speaking to.