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My Auto Show Can Beat Up Your Fashion Show
Through a friend of a friend of a friend who I don’t even like, I scored a ticket to an honest-to-God, high-end-designer fashion show. The kind where a collection is debuted and the famous designer takes a bow at the end.
By Janis Hirsch
If you think that sounds fabulously glamorous then you’ve never been to one
First of all, no matter what you weigh, you’re fat. And no matter what you’re wearing, it’s wrong, old and ugly. Even if you bought it yesterday at Barney’s for a billion dollars. No matter how affable you are, no one will make eye contact with you let alone speak to you no matter how broadly you smile at them or how hard you step on their toes just ‘cause they’re really starting to piss you off.
Please don’t feed the models
You know how you always see Victoria Beckham and Anna Wintour and Gwyneth Paltrow in the front row? That’s not where you’re sitting. Unless you’re Victoria or Anna or Gwyneth you are either far, far away or behind a column or both. Basically, you’re listening to a fashion show and let me tell you, there’s a reason “Project Runway” isn’t on the radio.
I know, I know, I’m being that woman who didn’t like her dinner because the food was bad and there were such small portions, but a fashion show lasts about 4 minutes. Seriously. It really doesn’t take that long for 10 women with giraffe legs to walk 30 feet and back. I barely had a chance to unwrap my Coffee Nip before the lights came back on.
Now let’s compare that experience with the one I just had at the LA Auto Show. The only “in” I needed was the price of admission and that’s still way less than the price of those Spanx I bought so I could still feel 20 pounds overweight at the Fashion Show.
Were there mean girls (and boys) at the Car Show who ignored me while still making me hate myself? Probably. But they were so outnumbered by regular people out for a good time that they didn’t register a blip on my radar. There were women of all ages from all walks of life wearing everything from chic business attire to comfy gal-on-the-go duds to what I used to call Mat Clothes, meaning the last clean things you had before you went to the Laundromat. Come on, I can’t be the only one who’s done her laundry wearing a bathing suit cover-up and ski pants… Can I?
Cool! Free stuff!
Yes, there are a lot of men at car shows too but they’ll only bother you if you’re obstructing their view of the 2014 Porsche Cayman. And you know how I was invisible at the fashion show? I was practically the Mayor of Scion. I mean, how do you not have an enjoyable conversation with someone who’s just given you Scion earbuds and Scion lip balm? You also make a lot of new friends when you’re testing out the comfort of the passenger seat (very) while other people are sitting on the driver’s side. Sure, the conversation starts out with “It’s only ten feet long and has eleven air bags” but as ice breakers go, you could do a lot worse. Which I did at the Fashion Show when I said to the woman sitting next to me in Siberia, “Wow, I can count all your bones.” We did NOT exchange business cards.
Okay, I know you’re thinking “yeah but the car show is just, you know, cars. I don’t care that much”. But you’d be surprised at how excited you can get about a Hyundai with a turquoise bicycle that fits upright in the backseat; I don’t even ride a bike and I gawked at that baby for a good twenty minutes.
I guess maybe the skinny in-crowd got goodie bags at the Fashion Show but I sure as hell didn’t. Unless you count a parking ticket as swag. But at Volkswagen, everyone got way cool white sunglasses that magically enabled you to watch as the 2013 VW Beetle Convertible appeared in her first close-up. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t on some mysterious list. It just mattered that I walked by at the right time. That, my friends, is democracy in action.
Once you go black
The Mercedes SLS AMG Black? I hadn’t even heard of it when I walked in and when I walked out I had more pictures of it on my cell phone than I do of my dogs. Will I ever buy one? No. Will I ever buy a faux-sable designer cat-suit? No. If I see a Mercedes SLS AMG Black drive by will I stop and stare? Yes. If I see a middle-aged woman teetering down the street in a faux-sable designer cat-suit will I stop and stare? Yes, but not in a kind, loving way.
One last thing: at the Fashion Show, the crowds found more enjoyment in the misses than in the hits. But at the Auto Show, every car sparkled, from the highest high end to the most basic entry-level model. Every car was lovingly lit. Every car had its champions and most importantly, every car got love.
Think about it: skinny well-dressed people watching younger, skinnier, even better-dressed people walk in a line, none of whom are smiling – although in fairness, many in the audience were physically incapable of moving their facial features or a giant convention center filled to the brim with new car smell, not to mention new cars?
Find a car show and go. You’ll have a blast. And unlike at Fashion Shows, car shows have snack bars. It was the first full-fat latte I’ve had in seven years and it was delish.
One Response to “My Auto Show Can Beat Up Your Fashion Show”
Your usual excellence. “I can count all your bones.” Could you write this more frequently?