#628 Last Tango in Paris

Bonjourrrrr! I've always loved that feeling when you're so utterly exhausted that you feel like you're floating around on a surreal cloud all day long. That was me yesterday. Two back-to-back Fashion Weeks, jetlag and almost no sleep caught up with me and I wandered from place to place in the 40 degree plus heat with a big stupid smile on my face. First stop was breakfast with Dayne and Zippora at our local, then a walk through the streets with the Zipster, then fruit in the park with our favourite Canadian Megan, then a little lie down at the hotel, then a late afternoon gelato, shopping mission and giant lemon meringue pie with Dayne and Young ZeeZee in the afternoon, then moving all my stuff to my friend Tessa's loft apartment in Montparnasse, then pizza, then a taxi ride to Oberkampf at 9:45pm to have dinner at Ave Maria with Dayne, Zippora, Megan, Jasper and his girlfriend Dempsey, then a late night stroll to Le Marais and La Perle, then a big walk to Zippora's hotel to drop her off - which I thought was close to Montparnasse, I was so wrong - then a really really long and expensive taxi ride back home to Tessa's, then emails and bed.

I took photos all throughout the day/night (below) and we made a little video tribute to Dayne (above). Paris has been kind to me. How will Berlin match up?



A tourist moment.



Fruit in the park.



Canada's answer to Penny Pickard.



The remains of our Lemon Meringue Pie.



Yeaaaarrrr!



Pan-world fusion food at Ave Maria - a little mix of Mexican, Afghanistanian, Korean and Mediterranean.



Two white buddies.



Keeping the peace.



I was eating pizza with Tessa and her brother and they told me that I could put my Pop Swatch on my tee shirt. I've owned it for two years and never known about it!



Ooo la laaaa



When in Paris...



Dessert.



Bonjourrrr!



All my friends.



Strolling with the homies.



Hey hey hey!



Goodbye.

#627 Shot of the day - Mincing in GAY Paree

Megan Jones, Jasper Seven, Dempsey and Dayne Johnston

BONJOURRRRRR! More from this night - The Last Tango in Paris - to come.

#626 Paris Menswear Final Day Recap

Me and a few mates - Lucas Ossendrijver, Alber Elbaz and Lanvin's show producer

The Gay Pride rally was all a bit noisy for me after a long day of shows, so last night I left the naked street dancing men of Le Marais and headed out into the balmy Parisienne night. I met up with Zippora and some of her model friends at a bar named La Perle (a word I had extreme difficulty pronouncing until I found out it's said just like 'pearl' in English). Two of the boys were models.com Top 50 listers and I immediately began asking them a few (hundred) questions to try to get a better understanding of what life in the business is really like.


Family portrait backstage at Lanvin - Alber Elbaz, Lucas Ossendrijver and the kids

Do they like the shows? Not particularly, but you do the shows to get the campaigns. Paris is fine but Milan is awful - models there get treated like pack animals. The campaigns must pay huge right? No, most of the big name design houses don't have any money - a fragrance campaign which might have paid $75,000 last year would now be eagerly snapped up at $15,000, day rates of $20,000 have been slashed to $1500. The campaigns beget the catalogue work - the only way to really make money is to build up a good relationship with a commercial client like Macys. So do they like the job? It has its perks - the girls, the travel, the experiences, but it's not at all glamorous like it seems. They stay in tiny rooms in low cost accommodation, and rarely get to go home to see the family. Poor buggers.


The new Lanvin sunglasses, backstage preshow

The party at La Perle turned into a full night of running around Paris and I didn't end up back at my apartment until nine this morning - which left me no time to get changed or shower before my favourite show of the week, Lanvin. Exhausted, unwashed and accompanied by Dayne and Zippora, I arrived at the venue (a theatre in the 16th) and went straight backstage to see the two greatest men in Paris - Alber Elbaz and Lucas Ossendrijver. Those guys blow my mind - they stay relaxed and joke around with each other up until the very last minute before the show. They even took the time to take a photo with me - but I had to promise Alber it wouldn't end up on Facebook... I may have lied. As soon as I saw the clothes I literally just about passed out with the urge to steal them all and run away. But being the upstanding citizen that I am, I resisted and joined the excited crowd milling around the catwalk. NZ photographer Michael Ng waved to me from the podium so I decided to join him there - I wanted a premium view for this one.


Lanvin business wear

The show, as always, was pitch perfect - a playful approach to the businessman's wardrobe - Wall Street suits paired with banker's visors, incredible trench coats, the best pleated pants of all time, amazing tiny collars on shirts, and to top it all off, each model had a drawn on moustache. When the boys came out for the finale, they walked in a disjointed pack reminiscent of faceless suits in a train station - all rushing to get to their destinations on time. Then they took their positions at the start of the catwalk... and just stayed there. Seconds passed, then a minute, still the crowd was clapping and the boys weren't moving. People started to get up to leave and the boys never left - Alber obviously taught them well - polite gentlemen wait for their guests to leave before exiting themselves.


Will Eustace at Lanvin

The next few hours of the day were a bit of a blur, I was utterly exhausted and was getting all antsy about my biggest challenge of the week - Dior Homme. I have a 100% failure rate with Dior - I tried so hard last year to get in but was denied at the front entrance, the side door and backstage.


Luke Worrall at Lanvin

I met up with Jethro Cave backstage at Masotomo, where, just seconds before, he'd had an altercation with a security guard over the merciless killing of a pigeon. I've heard a lot of crazy stories about the Australian model (and son of musician Nick Cave), but the impression he left with me was of a fun, young, enthusiastic Antipodean who won't let anything get in the way of a good time - or animal rights obviously.


Usher interviewed pre show on Fashion Insider TV

The ride over to Dior Homme was a tense one for me. As I've said before, the best way to get into a show is to have no expectations and to be utterly detached either way - if they say yes, fine, if they say no, fine too. I just can't do that with Dior. I care too much. Besides Lanvin, Dries Van Noten and Raf Simons, it's the show that I'm most obsessed with. But the others give me invites, Dior says no. So, just like last year, I was flustered and nervous, and, just like last year, I made the fatal mistake of hanging back at the start. I may as well have had a big sign around my neck screaming "I'M DESPERATE AND DON'T BELONG! PLEASE LET ME IN!" I had no hope. My 100% failure rate remains intact.


Sipping on some refreshing Moroccan mint green tea preshow with Zippora

Rejected, dejected and generally over it, I got back on the bus to head over to Paul Smith. Michael Ng dropped down beside me. "Where were you?" He asked. "I had a spare invitation for you and I was running around but I couldn't find you anywhere!" Oh joy.


The larger than life Jethro Cave backstage at Masatomo

Waiting for Paul Smith to start, I fell asleep twice. I was rudely awakened the second time by a distinguished looking gentleman whose seat I had stolen. I had to move. I was ready to kill. But Paul Smith shows are always fun and light hearted so as the first model came out - an eccentric aristocratic looking kind of guy - my mood gradually lifted. Soon I was tapping my feet in time with the soundtrack and feeling happy that the week was just about over. As the last model left the catwalk the music changed - I heard a familiar beat. Then a voice rose from the grave - "It's close to miiiiiidnight and something evil's lurking in the dark." The crowd erupted. All the boys came out and danced with Sir Paul down the catwalk.


All tuckered out (it's a very draining job after all) - Ash and Julius doze preshow at Masatomo

I walked out with that unbeatable mix of relief, exhaustion and completion that you only get after finishing a major exam. There were two more shows to go but I just kept walking. I'd done my dash, it was time for bed.


Kaiser Karl Lagerfeld's Hummer out front at Dior Homme


Even Olivier Zahm had to be checked off the list to get in at Dior Homme


Backstage at Paul Smith


With Dayne at La Perle

#625 Paul Smith Finale Video - featuring Michael Jackson!

Last show of the week closed with a bang... A thrilling bang.

#624 Paris Menswear Day 3 Recap

Image /Steve Wood - Me and Zippora Seven enroute to shows, Sonny Vandevelde watching on

My local breakfasterie in Paris is an organic bakery named Le Pain Quotidien in Le Marais. Every morning I go there and attempt to explain my not too complicated breakfast order in French to the same waitress who knows I don't speak French, but delights in correcting me at every given opportunity.. (Hot chocolate, orange juice and selection of breads - hold the brown, add an extra baguette.) For the past two mornings I've watched an amused twenty something year old guy watch me as I slowly sound out my bad French vowels. This morning he spoke to me and asked why I don't just speak English to her. I replied that the only way my bad French will ever improve is by practising it with rude French waitresses. He laughed and introduced himself. His name is Kalle Heimburger, he comes from Denmark and he's here for the menswear shows too. He's a buyer for Normann Copenhagen - apparently the biggest designer store in the country. "What do you sell?" I asked. "Oh, you know," he replied, "clothing, books, shoes, furniture, dildos."

So much for that famous Danish restraint.


At Kenzo - an abandoned carpark with sand-filled jars lining the catwalk

I met up with Dayne Johnston - we're swiftly becoming inseperable Paris BFFs - to go to the Kenzo show together. 25 minutes and three train changes later and we arrived at the same carpark where the John Galliano and Hugo Boss shows were held. Between us we had one photographer's pass - they obviously misread my email requesting a seat - so, being the nice guy I am (and seeing as Dayne is not so acclimatised to public humiliation as me), I gave it to him. He breezed through the door and I followed, giving my best "check the list!" performance - as they scramble through pages and pages of names I walk straight through - by the time they've either found my name (or not, as is mostly the case), I'm long gone.


NZ expat model Aiden Andrews at Kenzo

The catwalk was long, industrial and reminiscent of a Zambesi show venue, but with one addition - huge glass jars filled with sand hung at regular intervals along its length. The show was based on the expeditions of Pierre de Brazza and featured washed linens in creams and whites - gracefully streaked with mud and sand - and the most amazing hiking boots. They first appeared in snake skin - a bit flamboyant for my tastes - but soon came out in beautiful greys, browns and beige leathers. I'm obsessed. As the show closed the big glass jars began to tip forward emptying vast quantities of sand onto the catwalk, the models and some of the front row. Dust filled the air and for a moment it almost felt like we were in the desert - hot, dehydrated and blind.


My new obsession - hiking boots at Kenzo

Dayne ummed and aahed about going to the next show - Miharayasuhiro - with me, fearing that he'd miss his 1pm Maison Martin Margiela presentation. I assured him that we'd be fine, if anything went wrong I'd pay for the taxi, but there'd be no need for that, there was no way we'd be running late. I finally convinced him to come and we made our way into the venue. The show was based on my dad's favourite book Le Petit Prince, channelling the young protagonist's nights spent in the desert - more laundered linens, though this time in a darker colour palette. I thoroughly enjoyed the show, it featured Zdenek Zaboj and my favourite of the week Will Eustace, but I fear it wasn't worth the drama that took place next.


All worn out - a model yawns at the Maison Martin Margiela presentation

Dayne and I ran out the door (the moment Mr Yasuhiro had taken his last bow) and onto the street to take a taxi. What was I thinking? This is Paris. Even if the taxis are free the blasted drivers won't pick you up. I knew where we were going so we started half running in the direction of the presentation, constantly looking around just in case a kindly driver took pity on us. They didn't. Dayne started looking a little worried as we increased our speed. It was hot - at least 30 degrees, and my feet were already killing me from the last few days of walking (I drive everywhere in Auckland). 12:50pm rolled by, then 12:55pm, and we began virtually sprinting down the road. I finally spied a taxi and knocked on his window. He welcomed us in then shook his head and ushered us out after I told him our desired address. Back to running. We finally arrived at the presentation at 1:07pm, both pouring with sweat, both panting like dogs. We wiped our brows, paused for a moment then entered. The presentation began as we walked through the door.


Appropriated Burberry trench at Maison Martin Margiela

Going to bed at 4am during fashion week is never a good idea, and my lack of sleep, water and aching feet began affecting my mood. Our next show was Bernard Wilhelm. I had an invitation but when we arrived I found they'd overbooked and weren't letting anybody else in. My mood quickly deteriorated. I was ready to go home.


The makeup goes on Marcel Castenmiller at Ann Demeulemeester

Next show was Ann Demeulemeester. I didn't have an invitation and I was happy to not make the effort to get in but Dayne was terribly excited at the prospect of going - as a long time fan of her work he was eager to see the show in real life. I couldn't leave my new BFF hanging so off we went on the Fashion Week bus to the show. I fell asleep twice, both times rudely awakened by fellow bus-mates waxing lyrical about the latest fashion news and gossip. I was over it. I pride myself on being a pretty happy-go-lucky kind of guy, not much brings me down, but on the rare occasion I do get like this (usually during fashion week), my tolerance levels go out the window. I wasn't going to let some bully French security guard get in my way of seeing the show so when I got to the venue I pushed past all the other attendees waiting in line and walked straight in, daring anybody to say anything. Nobody did. I left Dayne in a seat and headed backstage for a drink. It had been at least four hours since my last glass of water. The security guard wasn't letting anybody through. I walked past him, he started saying something, I kept walking, he kept saying something, I ignored him entirely and walked through, grabbed a glass of water, snapped a few shots then walked back out. In the end I was glad to have stayed for the show - it's not my usual style but I saw some of the best leather pants of all time. Might have to grab some.


Watching the show screen pre show at Ann Demeulemeester

Next up was a presentation at The Ritz. I did the same thing past the security guard but this one decided to take offense. I argued then gave up and walked out. It was definitely time for home.


Ethan James - one of the breakout stars of the week at Ann Demeulemeester

Now I'm sitting in my hotel room listening to ten thousand half naked men screaming and blowing whistles. It's Gay Pride day here in Paris and I'm stuck in a hotel in Le Marais. It's going to be one looooong night.

#623 Shot of the day - Michael isn't dead

Image /Steve Wood

He lives on forever in our hearts.

#622 Backstage at Blaak Homme

All images /Stardust Fashion