The excitement. The madness. Long lines. Longer waits. Sometimes fashion’s biggest weeks of the year can be lost on a menswear journalist like me. Fortunately, Maison the Faux designs human wear. Male. Female. Male to Female. Female to Male. Black. White. Hispanic. Sample size. Plus size. Makes no difference. All the colors of the Technicolor rainbow are represented at the house of the Faux. An answer to that pesky diversity problem the old guard seems to be so plagued with. So, it came as no surprise that between the cast of characters in pink furs, latex corsets and pussy bows, who awaited their seats, and the show itself, I was about to experience the avant-garde.
The set—sci-fi tanning beds bathed in neon light and christened models- turned- FAUXmosapien’s, a new strain of human who lives his/her best, most authentic life. A dramatic mist. A disembodied voice. The ringleader—drag performer, Misc Allaneous DomTop, of exaggerated lips and boucle jacket and hat. Gag worthy candy colored striped coats, fabulous furs, sequin jackets and thigh high patent leather heels. There was no denying, I had entered the theatre of fashion. Political correctness be damned. — FY