Some tea to be spilled…

The highly anticipated fashion event of the year just concluded and I had the privilege of attending. As I admired and took note of all the polished, subdued collections, I couldn't help but notice subtle differences in the audience-the front row seats versus the back row, the "close-to-the-runway" versus the "barely-able-to-see-what-is-going-on" folks. Sitting in the back row, watching those in reserved seats savour the show, I caught one major thing...they weren't using their phones.

You might wonder why this is such a big deal, but I dug a little deeper. Looking around my row, I observed everyone recording the show--themselves, the pieces, the models, the ambiance. Of course, I was doing the same (with the intention of writing about them later), but all I could think about was why our front-row darlings were simply enjoying the show without a device in their face. And then it dawned on me: our beloved aristocrats could actually afford these clothes.  They weren't recording these collections because they were scouting which of the pieces would best fit their walk-in wardrobe. I assumed the only time they'd pull out their phones was to take a quick photo to send it to their stylist, with a message along the lines of, "This would go great with the Chanel heels."  

I found it so interesting--the elusive class differences that follow us everywhere, even when we don't realise it. While I pressed record on my phone every 30 seconds, Amy Okoli was carefully studying each designer gown. While I zoomed in on the models because I could barely see them, someone's rich aunty was judging a model's topless blazer.

Fashion shows have always been a gathering of the white-collared, filled with high-end luxury, but even within these elite, whispered spaces, a silent hierarchy exists., quiet versus loud luxury they call it.  Astounding how, even in a system you're not a part of, there's still another ladder to climb--within a ladder you're already outside of. 

One might ask, is fashion for all? Of course it is! Even though the "Valencia" dress from Desiree Iyama is a bit above my pay grade, the beauty of art lies in its perfection in the eye of anyone who beholds it.