FS 2012 in review

Mimi is blown away by FS 2012 Last Saturday night, North Street was a-clatter with the sound of even more platform heels and patent leather dress shoes than usual. Yes, […]


Mimi is blown away by FS 2012

Last Saturday night, North Street was a-clatter with the sound of even more platform heels and patent leather dress shoes than usual. Yes, this weekend was one of our own famed St Andrews fashion shows, celebrating it’s 20th year – this time round in support of the Muir Maxwell Trust. This was my first year attending, so I said ‘when in Rome’ and sprung for the Table Ticket, wedged my tootsies into heels a size too small and five inches too tall and headed over to Sallie’s Quad (feet already swollen to triple their size), already the keenest of beans just hearing the thumping bass echo out of the tents and down North Street.

 

Inside, the hard work of the FS team was apparent in every well-planned detail of the event: the amply-stocked gift bags, the brilliantly edited loop of behind the scenes videos projected while guests entered, and the theme–’Fashion Unearthed’–echoed from the dressing of the tables to the dressing of the models.


 

As excited as I was for the runway show, watching the guests strut around the tables and stadium seats was equally exciting. Unlike other fancy affairs here in our sweet lil’ bubble, there was something special about the effort put into the looks worn at FS. Female attendees diverged from the usual bodycon-stiletto combo and experimented with hemlines, hairstyles and even a little menswear, making my personal favourite a hot pink satin suit. Men attendees were equally sartorialized, suited up to the highest degree. I gotta say boys: y’all clean up nice! Show me that same game face on a Tuesday morning on Bell Street and we should talk.

But yes, homies, the fashion. It is indeed this glorious, uproarious, notorious fashion that separates FS and the other fashion shows from other charity events in St Andrews, making for that unmatched enthusiasm wristband-holders hoard from September on. Now listen, y’all – I read the blogs. Sure, yeah, I’ve been around the fashion block. My expectations were just as high as the model’s crimped hair.


The runway show was split into two halves, with an intercepting auction portion – which, unfortunately, was eclipsed by the champagne-fueled ridiculousness happening at the tables. The fellow running the auction was delightfully charismatic and frankly speaking quite the looker, but sadly his witticisms and the auction itself seemed to get a bit lost in the throes of it all.

However, the models had clearly practiced their best pouts, and I was continuously floored by their ability to keep a straight face as they strutted down a U-shaped catwalk past the fountains of champagne shooting into the air, handsy lads and whooping girls. The clothes ranged from the abstract, avant-garde collections featuring taxidermied birds flying off of structured shoulders, to relaxed printed silk jumpsuits, to scandalous mesh layered tops and lacy knickers. The male collections ran the gamut as well – my favourite by far being the deconstructed, updated kilts in neutral earth tones. But who doesn’t love a man who can rock a crop-top jumper and a drop crotch harem pant?

Just me? Fair.

 A notable highlight of the show was the brilliant music. The DJ set by Henry Stanislaw and Gero Kiepe complimented the high energy of the event with a series of brilliant mixes even the spinners themselves couldn’t help rocking out to. Just when the crowd couldn’t seem to get any more enthused, a saxophone player appeared, delivering a face-melting solo and causing the moshing catwalk groupies to lose their ‘you-know-what’ in a fit of fist pumping mayhem.

 

The afterparty, Four on the Floor, kept the momentum of the catwalk coming in full force, again with music just as thrilling as the clothes.

Overall, the event was easily one of my favourites: pulsating with the energy of  a jacked up crowd, a great soundtrack, a spectacular catwalk show, and all with the purpose of a great cause. I tip my (obviously feathered and bejeweled) hat to organiser Laura Fisher and all those involved for pouring all the time, effort and hairspray into FS that made it such an impossible event to forget – even with all that champagne.

 

 

Photos: © Amy Thompson