It happened. This time, I succeeded in entering the magic realm of the fashion week. I finally did it. I was one of the Chosen Ones!
Ok, first of all, a little honesty is required. Here is the truth: I haven’t done anything to obtain the desired invitation to the fashion week. I was just very lucky. Three weeks ago, my class coordinator came with the announce that my course had been invited to the ICEBERG fashion show. My inner fashion victim started a series of happy jumps. That was the occasion I was waiting to finally feel one of the cool kids in town! I then slowed down, suddenly realizing I had NO IDEA of what ICEBERG was. Could I be more ignorant? I was ashamed of my scarce knowledge of contemporary brands and immediately googled the company site.
A little bit of brand history, just to contextualize: ICEBERG is a fashion brand owned by the Gilmar group (also owner of the ICE ICEBERG line and licensee of Frankie Morello, Brooksfield and N.21). It was founded in 1974 as a sports knitwear line, designed by Jean Charles de Castelbajac. The brand heritage is strongly connected with pop art and culture, in fact the advertising campaign featured giants like Andy Warhol, Carla Fracci, Vivienne Westwood and, more recently, Farrah Fawcett, Sofia Coppola and Lil’Kim. This interconnection skyrocketed in 1993, when ICEBERG sponsored the Rainforest Foundation Fund concert, organized by Sting and Trudie Styler to sustain the research for the preservation of the Virgin Forest, at the Carnegie Hall in New York. Iceberg has now a brand extension strategy, which comprehends watches, shoes, a children line and even drinks.
I found absolutely charming this brand and its characteristics, being an absolute lover of contaminations among fashion, art and culture. So, my expectations about the fashion show were quite high.
I must be sincere: I did not find the collection as interesting as I expected. The seventies vibe of knee-high platform boots was nice, but in general I could not feel the exciting sensation of “wow” products. What I really found fascinating was the hierarchy of the catwalk experience. When I received the invitation, I was so brash to think “Ok, here I am, one of the Chosen Ones”. I could not be more wrong. The Chosen Ones, the top of the ladder, are the fashion journalists, star bloggers and celebrities that occupy the front row, wearing frankly absurd outfits and performing as supremely indifferent people. One word and the collection is out. Cruel, but incredibly charming.
So, I keep on climbing. I now feel like I have one foot in the door. One day, I hope to turn my enthusiastic expression in a mask of indifference and my flare black jeans in an orange leather-feather skirt.