I fear I’m late to the Coach show because of a run in my sheer black Wolford tights. I’ve since learned that everyone knows sheer Wolford tights have perhaps three wears in them before running. This is inherently erotic, the heartbreaking ephemerality mixed with the sting of the price. I make the very contemporary choice to wear sheer leopard tights and hail a real yellow cab, completely aware that I’m Carrie Bradshaw.
Upon arrival at the show, I’m pushed into an area I realize is for the unfamous and/or headless. I feel offended and scared, but embrace Pema Chödrön’s notion that fear is the natural sign of getting closer to the truth.
I finally run into a kind soul who pushes me toward where my community (Ice Spice, Zoey Deutch, and Lil Nas X) have gathered to celebrate the brand’s fall/winter 2023 collection. I leave my coat and bag on my chair and run to greet Sarah Sherman and Benny Skinner—dear colleagues of mine. I notice almost unbearably precious cherry- and pear-shaped candies being carried around on wooden trays. I gasp into the face of the person carrying them, while they remain unmoved.
When it’s time to sit, I find that Nina Garcia is in my chair, my coat flung over its back. I’ve met her once before and boldly plop next to her, exclaiming with mock anger, “Nina Garcia—you’re in my seat!” She is deeply gracious and friendly. We chat for a moment before I start grabbing my coat from behind her, asking if perhaps she moved my purse to the other side of “her” (my) chair. While feeling the quality of her coat, I instantly realize it’s not mine. This is her seat. This is her coat. I’m mortified, and somehow Nina doesn’t hold it against me. Impossible grace.
I tumble toward my actual seat, finding my purse and coat just as I left them. I’m seated beside Claire Stern. The show begins and I’m delighted to hear a song I love: Ciccone Youth’s cover of “Into the Groove.” I shout into my seatmate’s ear that it’s not loud enough, at which point it blasts.
What I begin to see are extremely nice clothes, worn by people who are absolutely models. Knitted dresses in various stages of decay move past me, emblazoned with NY and Superman logos. Perhaps an aesthetic of the apocalypse? Words like “nostalgia” come up for me. An attachment to what remains.
Suddenly, a new season breaks through: dreamy sheer dresses in pink and green. Models move like Daphne, attempting to escape being turned into trees (look up the Greek myth for reference if you need to).
I’m always stunned and turned on (against my will) by anything that is completely and unselfconsciously humorless. I also love the opportunity to freely stare, and I find myself almost overperforming this as the models glide by.
I see fun bags! Playful! Shaped like stars and crescents. Metallic, boxy ensembles trot by. They feel celebratory! Bold! I witness denim! A long skirt paired with a jacket that harkens to my beloved Earl Jean jacket from the ninth grade (this is not an insult). Fabulous leathers. Black and brown looks that I would love to wear to court, or a sexy party. I covet a black leather trench. Polished. Familiar but aspirational.
An intricate black sequin gown shimmers past me as “Bittersweet Symphony” plays. I feel stirred by the song, and by New York, and have the urge to rise and walk with them, but stop myself. Lil Nas X and Ice Spice take selfies and I smile at them as though I’m elderly.
As I watch the models, I hope to appear to be having the kind of experience one can only have when buttressed by years of consuming and discussing fashion.
This is not the experience I am having—but I absolutely am having an experience. And it’s all over far too soon. The models and their clothes have disappeared and I’m unceremoniously spit out onto the sidewalk. I long to return. The ecstasy of the front row…a spiritual residue that remains on the surface of my skin for at least an hour.
Kate Berlant is a comedian and actress who’s appeared in films such as Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, Sorry to Bother You, and Don’t Worry Darling, and on TV series including Search Party, Transparent, I Think You Should Leave with Tim Robinson, and A League of Their Own. She conceived a one-woman show, Kate, and can also be seen opposite John Early in their sketch comedy special Would it Kill You to Laugh? on Peacock and her FX comedy special Cinnamon in the Wind on Hulu. Her performances have been commissioned by The Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles.
