Can a normal, kinda broke girl rub elbows with the fabulous at a fashion show in DC? She sure as hell can. Here’s how I rocked it.
So, I finally got sick and tired of seeing my friend Eugene’s awesome runway pics on Facebook but not knowing how in the world he was doing it. So, I put on my bubble-gum mint wig and bright teal NY&CO coat, then went to see one of these epic black DC fashion shows for myself. Turns out, I arrived just in time for the spectacular finale of DC’s Indie Fashion Week (Feb. 29-March 6, 2016), the “Indie 500” fashion show.
Over the years, my friend Eugene has given me excellent fashion advice, recounted meeting Lynda Carter, once Wonder Woman at the high tone shoe boutique he works for (they once tricked out a pair of couture pumps with rhinestones and a Hello Kitty homage, then painted the bottom of the shoe hot red), and he told incredible stories of carefully dressing up models only to strip them bare and start the dress-up process all over again while backstage between sets at DC fashion shows. Eugene loves the industry, so he always goes to pitch in along with a team of other fashion-minded volunteers. I always imagined them standing together in their best jackets, slick hats and designer fittings, synchronized in their way and spinning the poor girl around, weave ponytail whipping and all—to go from nekkid to knockout in moments, not unlike a NASCAR pitcrew.
Wish I had one of those.
The Black Fashion Scene in DC is Like… Woah.
So, for years I got this sense there was an underground black fashion world in DC that I was missing out on, and made a vow not to miss the next fashion show Eugene spammed Facebook about. This time, it was the Indie 500 Part Deux (Finale Runway Show).
None of my girlfriends could make it to the “Indie 500” on a Sunday night, so I chose to treat myself to VIP tickets (a good deal at only $32) if I was going to fly solo. But even then, I found ways to be nervous about all kinds of silly things beforehand. I kept telling myself, ‘What if I mess up the red carpet pic when I walk in? Do I absolutely have to wear my best disco ball Betsey Johnson shoes with the turquoise soles to fit in? Those hurt!’ And oh my goodness, I am a worrier, so it just went on and on…
In the end, I was running so late that I had to cab it over to the beyond-elegant Sax Lounge on 11th and H Street. So, the terrifying red carpet moment that I imagined stumbling through and breaking all my legs on in super-tall platform stilettoes didn’t even happen. I really should not have worried about it all. And, more importantly, they’d created an incredible artistic space inside of Sax Lounge.
Continue reading Indie 500, DC Fashion Week