New York pots meet some London kettles.Photo: Sarah Maslin Nir
On Thursday, Fashion Week headed east to Hoxton, London’s Billyburg equivalent, where London’s asymmetrically coiffed and skinny-jean-plastered demographic runs free. So we were hardly nonplussed to find their heroes, the MisShapes crew, making themselves at home at Henry Holland’s first solo show — which was held in a venue called, of all things, the Village Underground. At first we thought the MisShapes dour looks were just part of their hipster aesthetic, but they really were peeved: “The organization is horrendous,” said Geordon Nicol. “In New York there are these intense publicity firms that have things under control. Here it’s all warehouses and crazy.” Then, without a trace of irony: “Here, it’s just club kids sitting around everywhere.”
Despite Geordon and fellow MisShape Greg K.’s misgivings about the mayhem, nothing stopped them from getting to their backbench seats in London, not even the fact that Miss MisShape Leigh Lezark was just admitted to the hospital. “We were supposed to come earlier, but Leigh came down with pneumonia,” Greg told us. “She’s in the hospital right now, but her boyfriend is with her.” Ultimately the boys reluctantly left Leigh’s bedside just in time to catch their plane, cab it from Heathrow to Holland’s show, and make their D.J.-ing gig at H&M’s party that night. “Mark Ronson performed and Kelly Osbourne and Peaches Geldof D.J.ed with us,” said Geordon, who looked a little worse for the wear. “Nothing really exciting happened there.” And all that for nothing. Pity. —Sarah Maslin Nir
