Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Screengrab /Isaac Likes blog for MAX
If you were following my coverage of RAFW closely, you might have noticed that every video came 'courtesy of MAX'. That's because those lovely ladies at MAX have thrown all caution to the wind and taken a chance on this white boy wannabe rapper/blogger. As of two weeks ago, I've started doing a weekly blog on their superfly new website maxshop.com. So far my blog topics (blogics?) have included ME and 'A picture may paint a thousand words, but a video camera opens a thousand doors' - posted below. Please go check it out and buy lots and lots and lots of clothes online!
Image /Marian Simms
On Monday at 8am I turned up at the Fashion Week venue to pick up my pass, with invitations attached. Despite personally emailing 100% of the PR agents looking after the event, I’d only been invited to about 25% of the shows. I had a better strike rate at the Paris menswear shows in January, damn it! There’s something about coming from New Zealand that naturally disadvantages you at any Australian event. We’re the poorer, smaller, younger cousins, and our coverage of their events doesn’t amount to much in their books. Plus I was covering RAFW for my blog, and a lot of publicists still haven’t gotten their heads around the whole online thing. If only they knew. But never fear, I wasn’t discouraged.
As I’ve previously said, blagging my way into shows is both a strength of mine, and a constant source of adrenaline. Nothing excites me more than sailing past the security guards and clipboard wielding PR agents and straight into a front row seat. And do you know what? That video camera of Maxshop.com’s greatly assisted me in my endeavours.
Video cameras give an authority that ordinary cameras can only dream of. As soon as the security boys saw it, they’d quickly usher me in to make sure I got a good position. If I wasn’t invited to a show, I’d walk up to the publicist, clear my throat, and say, “Excuse me, where do you want me to sit? I’m FILMING, don’tchaknow?” Just the word filming seemed to do it - as soon as they heard it, they’d virtually drop everything and run me to a prime front row seat. And backstage was no problem either - designers waved, models posed and blew kisses and security guards literally melted in my presence.
By the end of the week I did a little tally. Of 44 shows on offer, I’d attended 40. Of the 40 I went to, I’d sat front row at 36. Not bad for a guy with about 10 GA invitations right?
I’ve certainly learnt my lesson. No longer will I call up my beautiful female friends to assist me in the getting-in process. From now on, only a video camera will be on my arm.
I LIKE YOU!