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C and I slinked out of our Uber and entered the media tent at the fabled 131 McCormack warehouse – the venue hosting this year’s FAT show. The evening sun hung low in the sky, and she and I mused to each other that we had never been to McCormack this early.
“Yes, media passes for Cunt Mag,” I said to the FAT staff. “Love the name” was the reply.
Fashion Art Toronto (FAT) is one of two fashion weeks in Toronto - the other being Toronto Fashion Week (TFW). While the TFW brand is still owned by Freed Developments (and was previously owned by IMG who run NYFW), there has not been a TFW show since 2020. This absence renders FAT the de facto fashion week of Toronto.
We entered the anteroom wherein designers were showing their wares for sale. I was immediately struck by the… personality… of the Toronto high fashion scene. Allow me to list some elements of the looks of my fellow FAT attendees:
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Floral crown hats
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Bedazzled masks (COVID is over?)
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Quasi-burlesque drag looks
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One Rick Owens ghoul with a long drapey hood
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Twinks in tight shirts
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Pagan medallion necklaces paired with prairie skirts
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Elegant middle-aged women in bright colours giving Real Housewives of Durban
An eclectic bunch as it was, it was nice to see people from all walks of life at the event. But still – edit your looks, please.
After perusing the anteroom, C and I headed for the shows. A vogue beat pumped as we waited in line to be let into the showroom, and I had a little dance.
The shows began.
Neechi by Nature
Lots of bomber jackets and skinny jeans. Enjoyed the Indigenous feather motifs on the clothes. The show’s opener had on beautiful, feathered chieftain regalia. Unfortunately, the cut of the clothes was rather plain and dated.
Sons of Man
Where were you Sons of Man!? I was so excited to see this show. Their work is like early Helmut Lang sprung back to life for the modern man. Sexy, weird officewear with a lick of bondage gear. Unfortunately, they didn’t show.
Lignes de Fuite
Lignes de Fuite is a Montreal-based talent incubator. I have to say, overall, the creative talent from the Montreal designers far outshone the Toronto talent. Personally, I think this has much to do with the disparate identities of the two cities. Toronto is the country’s financial hub, and as such, it has a rather corporate culture. Montreal is, arguably, the country’s cultural hub. Rents are cheaper, which means a higher confluence of creatives. In the fashion world, Toronto’s profit-minded approach engenders a bland and economical mode of design. Contrast this with Montreal, which as a city supports its cultural projects more than Toronto, and this explains some of the talent differential that one can see on the runway.
Lignes de Fuite – Carre Bourgogne
This show was interesting if a little unwearable. My favourite piece was the opening look – a corseted knee-length dress made from stiff brown leather(?) with beige contrast stitching. It basically looked like the model was wearing a body-molded carapace with jutting panniers. Very animalic, VERY hot, and rather alien. This is the sort of collection that Jabba the Hut’s people would shop to dress a sexy enslaved Princess Leia.
Lignes de Fuite – Sweeven
The Sweeven woman is a shroom-loving temptress in loosely knit mohair. The collection boasted beautiful pants, dresses, and bonnets made from pastel colourways of the knit fibre. It was feminine, soft, sexy, and plush.
Lignes de Fuite – Gio Caci
The Gio Caci man is a moody bottom who you’ll find brooding in the darkroom at the Eagle. Unfortunately, I really did not like this show. It was a poorly executed return to early Gareth Pugh cybergoth. I did, however, appreciate the liberal use of black textured fabrics that looked to me like waxed cotton.
I love waxed cotton.
Lignes de Fuite - WJC
Some delightful Canadiana that referenced ice fishing and the country’s far north. Lots of blue trucker denim with patches, accessories made of rope, and jeans whose cotton was warped and weft-ed to look like the movement of waves. The clothing was cut well but may have referenced the Campnadian aesthetic of Dsquared2 a little too heavily.
Lignes de Fuite – Process Visual
This was my favourite show. I loved the cerulean colour that followed throughout the collection, and the puffy woven vests gave CAMH chic. The cuts were at once deconstructivist but inviting. It reminded me a lot of Hussein Chalayan’s early years. The oddly shaped black balloon hats were wholly unnecessary though, and I think removing them would have made the collection seem younger.
Before the last show of the evening, Deathworks, C and I went outside to get some air. We hit her weed vape and gabbed about our thoughts on the shows. Then, we tiptoed back to our perennial runway seats. I noticed that a sense of ease had fallen over the space. Most of the evening’s shows were finished, and models, designers, and their colleagues mingled on the runway in collective celebration and relief.
Deathworks
Like a scene from Vera Chytilova’s Daisies, the looks were surreal, psychedelic, and horny. There was patchwork denim, abstract and girlish tulle tufts, and even a model wearing a painting of long tubular alien eyes as a breastplate – oh and a painting of a vagina as a panty! Fun and unserious, but a little too KAWS for my taste.
It was now 12 am. Deathworks had showed, and accordingly FAT was over for the evening. C and I left the warehouse to malinger outside for a small while and take outfit pictures, and then call an Uber. Time to head home for a good night’s rest.
Day two was frankly shocking. The DJ in the anteroom was playing literal Ke$ha tracks. Not chic, and the vibes were not chill. Attendees swirled around me as I jostled my way to the showroom’s media line. I looked around at the day two outfits – a sea of black pleather. No C tonight… Mama’s flying solo.
World of Folklore
I found this show rather costumey. It was all flower crowns and faux pearl embellishments with very odd shoe choices – a tiered sundress with a black stiletto? There was also a nod to Jacquemus with large-brimmed sunhats. On the positive side, the hair was nicely done. It was gently salt-sprayed back behind the models’ ears in that siren-laying-in-the-sun sort of look.
Brandon Keir
An ill-fitting vinyl corset and billowy black polyester sheets with silver star motifs. The sort of clothing that would land a Ru queen in the bottom two for her inability to sew.
Desatita by Mohit
Dramatic and contemplative but not terribly wearable. Lots of tight black, white, and red satin corsets with matching crepe skirts. The skirts had languid, sensual trains that slithered along the runway behind the models. The Desatita woman was left at the alter and now wanders the halls of her crumbling stone mansion wearing her wedding dress – forever wondering what could’ve been.
THE “OTHER” FASHION WEEK
FAT is, in its essence, the “other” fashion week. It lacks the financial backing of real estate giant Freed Developments and also lacks the notoriety of the Fashion Week brand. This poses problems in terms of attracting talent, sponsorship acquisition, and properly funding a glamorous venue (although McCormack wasn’t bad). Having said that, there was some good talent on display at FAT and I look forward to seeing what Carre Bourgogne, Sweeven, and Process Visual do in the future.
THE AFTER
Liminul Magazine held the after on Geary. Serendipitously, my friends J and L had walked Desatita that evening and decided to join me for the party. We left McCormack to head to mine and J’s place to change then jetted off to Geary.
The after was a nice mix of people. Bright blue lights twinkled behind the DJ booth and music roared throughout the longitudinal space. Someone vogued, predictably. I would have liked a little less pop music and a little more house or techno – something chicypoo.
I did, however, live when the DJ played classics such as “My Neck, My Back” by Khia and “Buttons” by The Pussycat Dolls. J, L, and I each did a double shot then headed upstairs for a little photo op. We danced for a while until J mentioned that a certain someone was bartending at Apartment that evening.
We deliberated and agreed that the night had to continue.
So, we left the after to go to Apartment. Then, we left Apartment to go to another after.
And that was my weekend at FAT.
Xx JD