Chapter 10 - The Alleyway Runway
|
The night of the West Coast Designer Preview arrived three weeks later.
While the city’s elite gathered inside the air-conditioned, gilded ballroom of the Wilshire Hotel, three hundred people crowded into the industrial alleyway behind my downtown loft.
We had strung industrial bistro lights between the brick buildings, laid down a stark white vinyl runner over the damp asphalt, and set up simple folding chairs for the attendees.
Marcus had delivered on his promise. Vanguard had placed three high-definition camera rigs along the alleyway, streaming the event live to over two million fashion enthusiasts online under the hashtag #UnfilteredKate.
The crowd wasn't made up of old-money socialites or country-club wives. It was packed with young indie buyers, streetwear influencers, underground artists, and brave press reporters who were sick of polished, predictable corporate shows.
At eight o'clock sharp, the heavy bass of an industrial synth track echoed off the brick walls.
My first model stepped out onto the damp white vinyl runner.
She was wearing a razor-sharp, double-breasted tuxedo dress in deep midnight silk, styled with silver chain hardware and a high collar. The design was fierce, unapologetic, and undeniably powerful.
The crowd went wild. Camera flashes erupted like lightning strikes against the dark brick buildings.
On the live stream comment feed, which was projected onto the brick wall at the end of the runway, messages were flying by at a hundred miles an hour:
“THIS IS AMAZING!”
“The tailoring is insane!”
“Bye-bye Brad Miller, hello Kate Sullivan!”
May you like
“Where can I buy that suit?!”
By the time the final model walked out wearing a striking, ice-blue silk trench coat with exaggerated shoulders, the alleyway erupted into a standing ovation.
