Decadent Underworld

In my head, the phrases ‘haute couture’ and ‘Boise, Idaho’ never fit in the same sentence, except, perhaps, a sentence that points out that Boise, Idaho has very little to do with haute couture. Imagine my surprise when the photographer who did my album cover, Aubrey Brower, put a bug in my ear about Decadent Underworld. You can see the build-up at this website.

Sold. Should it turn out to be terrible, (and even if the grandiose claims of shock and awe were a little pompous and badly written) it would be a fashion show. I enlisted my all-too-willing fellow style-addict friend, Jen, and forked over the $20 ticket price.

Up front, I have to say that I’m impressed that anything this ambitious was attempted in Boise, that the videos were clever (though ‘decadent’ was quite an overstatement), and the hair was fabulous. That said...

As a devout worshipper at the shrine of John Galliano (as long as we’re making overstatements), I quickly noticed that Tod Alan was apparently a fellow disciple. Little bits here and there on most of the outfits were blatant nods to Galliano’s work for Dior, and the styling - huge, teased hair, large ropes of pearls, dramatic airbrushed makeup, elaborate headdresses - brought to mind several of JG’s inimitably dramatic runway productions. Not that I mind a designer being inspired by one of the greats, but I was a little disturbed by a) the fact it was such a strong, noticeable influence, and b) that the execution of the garments was sloppy and unflattering, which did not do justice to the beautiful styling and occasional attractive detail.

Yes, I understand the concept of avant garde. Yes, I understand the idea of artistic ugliness. But this is fashion, after all. In the end, it’s about the ability to flatter the human form. There are plenty of avant garde designers who are able to use odd, even all-together unattractive pieces that could hardly be called clothing and make them look beautiful by virtue of an interesting shape, or a striking color, or an inventive juxtaposition. Alexander McQueen, Rei Kawakubo, Viktor & Rolf - all masters of using the art of strange and shocking in order to sell beautiful clothes. Unfinished and hastily-slapped-together don’t come across as beautiful, let alone haute couture.

Nevertheless, the show was a nice escape from typical Boise. I will give Jared Michael credit for having dancers and a little bit of a show to go with his song’s debut, even if it was a lame song. I will give Coco Fringe mad props for great hair and an impressive on-stage styling performance. I applaud the unusual use of models of all shapes and sizes (though I suspect they may have just run out of model-y models in the area). I heartily appreciate the large-scale gathering of interesting, stylish people (and would like to know where they were shipped in from - you never see them on the streets here).

I would like to vehemently boo the faction of clueless people who marred the event thus: those who walked or stood in the path of on-coming models - it was obvious where the runway path was, so sit down and get out of the way; the guys in ripped jeans and flannel - I get it, you’re the only straight guys here; the smattering of ratty cougar - it’s not fun to see the dark top of your black control tops every time you move, and that guy’s young enough to be your grandson; the bar company - this is supposed to be a posh event, and thus t-shirt-and-jeans uniforms are not appropriate.

There. I think I’ve got it off my chest. Photos can be seen here.