Band of Outsiders/Boy

Putting a damper on my “Ban the Runways, Give Me Presentations!” hurrah, the downstairs gallery at Milk was packed to the rafters for the Band of Outsiders/Boy show. Everyone was crushed around the displays, there were no drinks and no AC. These are far from ideal conditions. To top it off, the models wouldn’t stand still—one even scoffed when I asked to take a second picture.


The clothes were very Band of Outsiders-y—fifties tailoring with a little bit of Hamptons edge. The beachy set-up was pleasant, if obvious, but the whole thing started to evoke a dinner theater re-staging of Gilligan’s Island; there were already two dead ringers for Gilligan and one for the Professor. And really, under the heat, it felt more marooned than breezy. When Kirsten Dunst walked in, the temperature spiked another ten degrees from all the camera flashes. Melting, I asked her if there’s anything about fashion she doesn’t like. “I like everything about fashion, except Ed Hardy.” Now that’s refreshing.

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