Bite Me

Cliché as it is to quote Old Blue Eyes, it’s surely true that many a fashion designer has spied the financial success of designers showing in New York and cried, “I want to be a part of it”. There is little about New York that screams struggling designer or insufficient commercial profit. If you’re looking for money, New York is where it is.

The tricks turned to make this fashionable wallet bulge are the simplest in the book ― the mastered art of making clothes desirable, sellable, wearable. Yet nowhere has this down to a perfectly cut T like the Big Apple. In the current economic state of the flailing dollar, New York flexes its commercial muscles to capitalise on retail sales.

On the catwalks, the pulse of New York is sleek, chic and effortless, but I struggle to believe that Derek Lam, Marchesa, Calvin Klein or even Marc Jacobs, who form part of the core of this apple, are what make it so juicy. What gets me excited about New York fashion is when I hear about Consignment Stores or playful ‘Dropping’ escapades which come across as anti-establishment in the most thrilling way.

Catwalk coverage makes me feel like I’m watching New York with blinkers on, guided towards established brands and struggling to see beyond financial foreplay and celebrity rife front rows. There is no denying that New York produces some of the most beautiful, coveted garments in the world, but I’m betting that behind the fashion staples lies something a little fruitier.