Fashion week sketches
NEW YORK (AP) – You’ve got to be at the top of your game to be a one-name model: There’s Iman, Naomi, Gisele – Barbie.
The 11.5-inch plastic doll is still on top as a high-fashion muse as she approaches her 50th birthday, and will make her New York Fashion Week catwalk debut on Saturday in 50 outfits by the country’s top designers.
Barbie’s life-size stand-ins will strut in a gold gown by Ralph Lauren, a hot-pink wrap dress by Diane von Furstenberg and an outrageous green party dress by Betsey Johnson.
The fact that Barbie is just shy of her 50th birthday – officially marked on March 9 – doesn’t seem to matter in a fashion industry that worships youth. (Being made of plastic, she can even avoid the indignities of Botox.)
“There’s been an epic display of unity around Barbie as a muse,” says Richard Dickson, general manager of the Barbie brand at Mattel. “Barbie is 50. What’s the next chapter?”
Hello Kitty is also getting her own Fashion Week party, but there’s little doubt about who’s top doll. She even knocked down the Bratz girls last year, resulting in a legal decision that essentially will end sales of the edgier tween dolls.
“A majority of designers have had some run-in with Barbie,” says Carmen Marc Valvo. “She’s an American icon, and there has to be an interesting association between play and Barbie, and creativity and fashion.”
Valvo insists he’s never had his own Barbie, but he was surrounded by his sisters’ as a kid, and his very first design was a Barbie dress – a Renaissance gown for a school project. It’s proudly displayed in his office, even though the dress is lacking properly cut armholes, a skill he did not yet have.
Valvo’s new life-size Barbie dress is a frothy black strapless cocktail dress with pleats that reminds him of Barbie’s early wardrobe of gowns. This one will be worn with hot-pink Christian Louboutin shoes: “It looks like a Bon Bon.”
Nicole Miller’s checkerboard trapeze dress and swing coat is the third outfit she has done for Barbie, filling a childhood void from a time when her French-born mother wouldn’t let her have one of the dolls.
“I always envision Barbie in that ‘60s mode – I made her mid- to late-’60s mod,” said Miller. It’s a version of a dress Miller put in her very first runway show, worn by Linda Evangelista. “It was the season she was a blond. I immediately thought of that outfit.”
Tommy Hilfiger, who will put Barbie in a hand-beaded white minidress, sees her Barbie as an American pop-culture icon that translates to other cultures and countries. There have been countless Barbies produced in the traditional dress of faraway lands, including a Korean bride in a hanbok and a Kenyan doll wearing wooden bead necklaces.
The dark-skinned Barbie even boosted the self-esteem of a young Rachel Roy, who has mixed Dutch and Indian heritage. “It helped me understand that brown was beautiful,” she says.
The designer went for a vintage-inspired look for the runway: A retro black-and-white swimsuit topped with a trenchcoat.
Miller can imagine real women longing for some of the Barbie styles. “A lot of Barbie clothes are very realistic,” she says. “Some of it is fantasy, but some of it is really wearable.”
Many of the Barbie styles are headed straight for Bloomingdale’s flagship store – but they’ll be on display, not for sale.
What price beauty?
My Mom, Donna Warlick, told me this story the other day and I nearly fell out of my chair laughing. So, I demanded that she write it up for me to post on my blog. Here is her story:
A couple of months ago, at a street fair, I bought a promotional certificate for six beauty treatments for only $99. It was a great deal, and around the first of the year I started cashing them in.
My second treatment was a microdermabrasion. As a “woman of a certain age,” I have had dermabrasions in the past, and was not nervous or concerned at all. It was to be performed in a medical office, by a licensed esthetician. I arrived at the appointed time, and completed the requisite questionnaire, which included a checklist of other treatments in which I might be interested.
I have some vertical lip lines and smile lines that I would be very happy to lose, so I checked “Juvederm” on the list. Juvederm, in case you don’t know, is an injectible wrinkle “filler” that I have researched and found to be quite safe and effective, and fairly long-lasting.
I headed in for my dermabrasion, which included a mini-facial. The office and staff were delightful, and the treatment was very relaxing. At the end, the Esthetician mentioned my interest in Juvederm, and asked if I would like to speak with the doctor. I said, “Sure.”
The doctor came in. He was cute as a puppy, looked about 16 years old, was very chatty and personable, and completely reassuring. He explained the Juvederm procedure to me, including what it could and could not do, and the minimal healing process. He himself told me the cost (impressive!) and I was surprised at how affordable it was.
With my daughter’s wedding coming up, I have been on a crusade to “be all that I can be,” including losing weight and being diligent about skin and hair care. The wedding was three weeks away, so I had plenty of time to recover. When the doctor said he could get me in that very morning, I was really excited! “GO AHEAD,” I jubilantly told him.
Off he went to get the set up, while I euphorically anticipated showing up at the wedding and being mistaken for the sister of the bride!
Upon his return, he asked rather off-handedly, “You haven’t taken any Ibuprofen or Vitamin E in the past seven days, have you?” OH NO! I take Vitamin E every day, and I had popped two Ibuprofen tabs on my way to his office! But I figured, hey, he isn’t going to be cutting me, so I certainly wouldn’t bleed to death, and I was WAY too excited to pass up this opportunity.
So… I LIED! Yep, I, a grown-up, educated woman, who actually worked in the medical field for years, sat right there with a blank expression on my wrinkled face and LIED TO MY DOCTOR!
He anesthetized the treatment area, and started the injections. The procedure itself involved only minor discomfort, and was uneventful, until the doctor asked me, “Do you usually bruise easily?” UH-OH, I thought. NO, I said. He completed the procedure, and told me I would have some minor swelling and bruising that I could cover with makeup. (Where DO men get the idea that makeup can actually hide ANYTHING?)
By the time I got home, my upper lip was slightly swollen, and there was some minor discoloration, mostly around the injection areas. When I told my husband what I had done, he looked at me like I was crazy (that’s already an established fact) but didn’t say much.
The next day – Sunday – I woke up and dashed to the mirror to see how my “new face” looked. Well, my new face looked like Mickey Rourke had held me down and punched me in the mouth about 20 times! My upper lip was totally purple/black, and the surrounding area was puffed and splotched with black! Muhammad Ali would have been horrified! My husband just shook his head and said, “That’s going to take a week to clear up.” I told him the doctor had assured me that it would only take a couple of days. But clearly, the Vitamin E and Ibuprofen had betrayed me.
The garage needed cleaning, so my husband moved his car out onto the street and I got to work inside, where no one could see me. It was a beautiful day, and about 2:00 my husband said he thought he would go sit outside in his nice warm car and read a book. I said, “Are you crazy? If the neighbors see you sitting in your car, and then see me with a black and blue face, do you know what they are going to think?” He looked annoyed, but stayed inside.
By Monday morning I looked, if possible, even worse. I work at San Diego Police Headquarters. Everyone knows everyone there, and is very friendly and concerned. I was too embarrassed to confess the truth about my appearance, and the story was too long anyway. I knew I would have to answer about 500 questions, and maybe have my poor, innocent husband come under suspicion. I tried to come up with a plausible – phony – explanation. I considered claiming a close encounter with a surfboard, walking into a door, or being in an automobile crash. I finally decided that anything I made up would only lead to more questions, from DETECTIVES no less. So I called in sick and stayed home.
By Tuesday, the bruises were blacker still, and makeup couldn’t begin to disguise them, but I HAD to go back to work. I decided the only solution was to hide my face. OK, how do you hide your FACE? I mean, it’s right there on the front of your head! You need it to breath, eat and talk. I considered wrapping a scarf around my neck and lower face, but feared being mistaken for a terrorist. I finally settled on buying a package of surgical masks. Of course, then I had to come up with a reason why I was wearing a surgical mask to work. Sure enough, the questions started as soon as I stepped into the elevator. Everyone was VERY concerned with my health. I simply told them, mysteriously, that “I have a little bronchial thing, and I am supposed to avoid particulates.” Not exactly a lie – no one should inhale “particulates” and everyone has bronchial “things” (they are called lungs). Specific enough to be plausible; vague enough to discourage follow-up questions.
It’s Friday now. The first day I’ve had the courage to take my mask off in my office. Make up KIND OF disguises the bruising, which is has turned a weird shade of chartreuse. I put my mask back on when I have to leave my office. I HOPE I will look presentable in time for the wedding. I am not sure yet how much the procedure helped, but my “sister of the bride” fantasy is ever more remote.
Luckily, the wedding colors include black and green. I should fit right in.
Song of the Year
Now, I’m not an entertainment expert but I do know and love music. The Grammy Awards are coming up and here are my picks for Album, Record and Song of the Year.
This category was tough because I love “American Boy,” “Love Song” and “I’m Yours.”
I choose “American Boy.”
Album of the Year
Here’s my pick for Album of the Year:
In Rainbows
Radiohead
Record of the Year
My pick for Record of the Year:
Please Read The Letter
Robert Plant & Alison Krauss
