Our prediction: There’s going to be at least one spill on the runway this week. We were barely two minutes into BCBG this morning when model Arlenis Sosa slipped and nearly took a tumble. Peering into the wings, we saw closer Abbey Lee lose her footing for a moment backstage in her haste to run to the front of the model parade for the finale. They dodged the bullet, but someone else isn’t going to be so lucky.
Also out of luck: Karlie Kloss, whose name was misspelled on the program not once but twice — unless there exists a designer-imposter version of her named “Karlie Koss” — and anyone at Max Azria who thought this show would bring out the celebs. BCBG is usually a huge draw for the sort of pretty young starlet who has a show on the CW, but the likes of Sophia Bush (usually a staple) and Leighton Meester were nowhere to be seen. Instead, we spied Jamie-Lynn Sigler sitting beside last season’s inexplicably omnipresent Leigh Lezark; Phillip Bloch displacing a seat filler so his pretty female companion could perch next to him; and stylist Robert Verdi. Vivica A Fox glammed it up in chunky pearls, a red blazer, pants, and pumps, which she said was some combo of Tracy Ellis and Chanel. Apparently Vivica attended the Samsung event honoring Valentino because she gushed over the chance to open Fashion Week by meeting the icon. “He’s amazing,” she told reporters, then added after a beat, “VERY tan!” She singled out a blue shorts jumpsuit as her favorite look from the BCBG show, but we urge her to tread carefully with that one. Jumpsuits are very advanced.
But our biggest almost-squeal of glee came after the show when we almost bumped into heartbreaking Olympic gymnast Alicia Sacramone standing across from the Bryant Park Hotel — upright, on both feet, and with a cute boy to boot. Alicia looked deeply fierce in giant shades, a black dress, a blowout, and huge peep-toe platform pumps that made her very nearly person-size. Forget that damnable balance beam, Alicia — you get a gold medal for negotiating New York’s streets and precarious subway grates in those bad boys. Who cares about the Olympics when you have Fashion Week?