The World of of Paris Fashion Week

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The World of of Paris Fashion Week
During Paris Fashion Week, the streets look even more stylish than usual. The cafés are mobbed, the nightclubs are packed and it feels like everyone’s in the mood to shop. It’s Fashion Week and it’s hit Paris. Twice a year, designers descend upon the fashion capitals of the world – New York, London, Milan and Paris – to showcase their latest collections to the press and public. Apart from the major shows themselves, which number about 100, Fashion Week also includes lavish promotional events, exhibition unveilings, boutique grand openings, shows at small boutiques and celeb-studded parties that run until dawn. Fashion Week is often a distant fantasy, accessible to most only through runway footage on Style TV, party pics in Vogue and the DVD of “The Devil Wears Prada.” It’s very difficult, if not impossible, to crash the scene. This world is unlike any other, populated by beautiful people and brimming with creativity. Shows happen all around Paris. One memorable show happened on a Saturday morning at Le Train Bleu, a beautiful Belle Epoque restaurant in the Gare de Lyon. The crowd was a mix of fashion folk and journalists, peppered with the occasional misfit: disgruntled photographers, misbehaving kids and heavy-set older women in loafers. Against the ornate gilded interior of the restaurant, Impasse designer Karim Bonnet showcased an energetic line of his signature hand-painted textiles. As an accordionist threw her entire body into a discordant, melancholy tune, lithe African models streamed one-by-one down a red-carpeted runway. The collection was composed of bright, gauzy sheaths and separates, accented with ethnic accessories and sexy black footwear. Some pieces incorporated a springtime floral scheme with white accents, while others used a darker palette that mixed animal prints and urban-inspired graphics. The whole show took about fifteen minutes and at the end of it, Bonnet took a turn down the runway to rousing applause. The second he disappeared backstage, everyone sprung from their seats and hustled out the door, no doubt heading to other shows across town. I joined the crowd of people filing out, my head still swimming with the colors, the textures, the music. I was hit by the sheer reality of Saturday morning at the Gare de Lyon. For a while there, my world had been fashion. Jessica Marati wrote this story for BonjourParis.
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