uncommons

blue glove before the runway show, St. Louis Fashion Week, photos by Erik M. Lunsford

Here’s an offbeat story. I have photographed about a dozen fashion shows as a newspaper photojournalist, and what’s peculiar about that number is that every time an editor assigns it, I read about it after I’ve arrived at the office.

umm, okay?

Well, photographers tend to dress accordingly for each assignment. Therefore, suits for funerals and presidential visits down to swim trunks and ragged tees for outdoors story. Well, my daily life consists of the usual reincarnation of the Catholic high school dress code – khakis, a button-down shirt and some Costco-special unisex fleece. Now,  this ensemble is not bad –  it looks nice and works at ninety-nine percent of assignments — but it seems like the most boring outfit one could wear to a fashion show. Moreover, since editors assign the show after I arrive in the newsroom, I’ve never had the chance to change before the event. I’ve always planned to slip into something a little more fashionable at least in my eyes — like my favorite clearance multi-colored shirt, an overpriced pair of  jeans, and a khaki corduroy blazer. It’s happened before. In Miami on South Beach I rolled up in a faded polo and jeans to a swimsuit show, and in Peoria (or Springfield, maybe?) I came in a flannel plaid arctic-wear shirt. Either way, when shooting backstage with hipster crowds scoring the latest threads checking others at the door, you’d think sore thumb photographer is the newest look.

Not exactly, it seems.

Quite opposite. At ever show, I’ve noticed models and designers and fashion show crews (all the scurrying ones) seem to forget my presence. Maybe they’re that busy prepping for the show or just think I’m out of place, but at last weeks’ St. Louis Fashion Week show, everyone again just disregarded my existence. Even other photographers I saw sporting Leica digitals and trendy sportcoats were getting more eyes than my corduroys.  I say, keep those eyes on the others; I want to blend and make great pictures. In a room chock full of models, I didn’t get a single “would you like me to look at you or do something?”

Awesome. And that’s the thing — you look decent, you just don’t scream “look at me!” all over the face. It’s not like you missed the memo for the costume party nor are you trying too hard to fit in. It just works.

Evil Kitty on the runway

Either my clothing is just insipid or I come off harmless in my New Balance trekkers or I’m completely overthinking this whole thing strong possibility, regardless it’s perfect when all you want to do is disappear into a great runway show.

Interns and staff scrub the runway clean of shoe marks.