Last Friday and Saturday saw a “fashion weekend” that could only happen in Williamsburg. Trendy Brooklynites thirsty for 
new styles (and free beer) packed into the Secret Project Robot Art Space until it was standing room only. Organizer/artist/designer of the King Gurvy line, Arthur Arbit, looked dapper in a suede vest under a suit jacket as he spun old soul records to set the mood. The theme of the night seemed to be 60s French sophistication meets rowdy Brooklyn house party; a sumptuous Godard movie projected silently onto the wall as models for the first line, French Me, paraded back and forth, making the most of the small makeshift stage.
Unlike the fashions on display in those exclusive tents across the river, these were clothes that a normally proportioned human female without a six-figure salary might actually want to wear and be able to purchase. Inspired by classic (and classy) women’s styles of the 50’s and 60’s, designers Liz Berg and Jeanette Tiso created outfits for modern girls who long to bring a little of the belle dame sans merci into their lives via their wardrobes. Jumpers, dresses, swimsuits, blouses, and high waisted pants relied on flattering cuts and the occasional well-placed frill, bow, or tie, rather than skin, to inspire ooh la las.
The next line, SDN, was similarly French-inspired but leaned more towards the demi-monde than the parlor. The styling was gothic: big hair and ghoulish eye makeup reminiscent
of an Edward Gorey drawing. Black and white stripes, floral brocades, and androgynous women in suspenders hearkened back to a time when the barmaids and can-can dancers at halls like the Manet-immortalized folies bergere were also prostitutes you could take home.
The SDN show was accompanied by local avant-joke band Speedbump, dressed in matching high-waisted jumpsuits, mustaches, and berets. The frontman held a glass of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other as he delivered vulgar odes to New York like - “Cockroaches crawling on the walls/crabs crawling on my balls/I love living in the city.”
In true Williamsburg form, the entire shebang was local and D.I.Y. All clothes were sewn by hand and the models, refreshingly varied in shape and size, were taken from a pool of friends and local castings. Jeanette told me she’d met Arthur at a party and thought that his event was a great idea. One great thing about living in Williamsburg is the brain-crush that occurs when you realize your neighbor, acquaintance, or sandwich delivery guy has a cool project going on that makes you want to stay up all night writing/drawing/designing. Despite the neighborhood’s rapid condo-fication, artistic relationships are still constantly being formed.
It was no wonder, then, that the party continued late into the night after everyone trekked up to Irene’s in Greenpoint to drink $1.75 pony beers and dance to more of Arbit’s records. The regulars were genial, interrupting their video poker games to shimmy and shake with the fashion people amid dusty fishing trophies and American flags. The cheap and abundant liquor certainly helped, but I’d venture to say that by last call, everyone was running on pure love. They were also dripping with sweat, or as I’d like to call it, creativity juice. Godard himself would be proud.
