AG and I call them mishaps, but maybe that isn't quite right. We laugh at the mishaps, tell each other they can make or break any day. What we're actually referring to are those moments when you feel as if you've gotten creamed by a pie in the face - when life is suddenly a slapstick comedy and you're the star. We've said that we can try our very best to appear "chic and reserved" (grazie, Guido) but that it's much more fun just to face the fact that we'd rather take those less than perfect moments. So what if we're left to wonder if our outfits led us to be seated in the heat of the kitchen, rather than out on the patio? Step by (tiny) step, we've taken risks and had endless stories to tell.
I suppose the same can be applied to writing. I've always wondered if certain critics have ever felt the pressure to shower everyone with praise in the beginning. In fashion, the most interesting critics are the ones who draw references from obscure and often unexpected moments in art and pop culture. But what about the image of a writer or editor that comes through in their critique? With the arrival of LG Fashion Week comes views from every elite editrix, witty blogger and fashion fan. Though I admit to being drawn to some of the online coverage laced with snark, it gets tired when it comes to be expected. While perusing the FLARE blogs I came across this comment from Lisa Tant's blog:
"Even normally polite editors (that would be me) hooted and hollered like a hooligan at the finale of Lanvin’s gorgeously luxe show."
She may not have a mishap to speak of, but I love the fact that she doesn't try to uphold some sort of frosty image. I can't imagine what I'd do as a result of sensory overload at a Lanvin (swoon) show. Amidst all of the chaos that must have been her fashion week experience, I'm sure some hootin' and hollerin' were in order.