FNO - Rest In Peace – Sayonara Shopping Sisters – See You At The Next Market Crash
Fashion Night Out: Here lies a perfectly great idea that came to light at an incredibly upsetting time in our economy and leave it up to the PR & Marketing Gods & Godessess to have taken this brilliant concept that Anna Wintour created for the City of New York and turned it into a cheap cluster-fuck of nonsense and even cheaper thrills. Two years go while walking through the Meatpacking District smack dab into the POP CHIPS activation, I turned to my friend and said, “This event has two years, three tops before it dies on the vine.” And died on the vine it has.
The announcement came as no surprise to me, but websites like Buzzfeed sure had a giggle on the back of what was created to help desperate retailers. Amy Odell wrote a persnickety piece, Nine Reason Fashion’s Night Out Needed To End. Truth is, this is no laughing matter. Our economy is still in the shitter. I don’t care what small percentage of bithces are able to buy The Row alligator bag priced at $35,000, overall things still blow chunks for the masses. And correct me if I am wrong, but wasn’t Fashion’s Night Out designed to be at the core a Democratic idea? Bringing fashion to the people in celebration of the new fall season? What FNO needed to do–which I told the people at Vogue–is have it become a monthly activation with less hoopla and more in-store incentives. Enroll endless media partners and select a different charity each month and give the friggen zillion of needy charities a moment to flourish. But what do I know?
Naturally the uber-marketing hussies worked overtime to booze up consumers while selling shwarma on the streets. Really classy, y’all. These black clad bitches ruined FNO with their not-so-bright, big ideas and are partially responsible for its demise. More celebs, more booze and more celebs, meaning Real Housewives getting paid to appear at a friggen Aldo Shoes store. Am I alone in knowing that this is not a good way to go? Don’t answer that because the truth is too depressing. Where does one go when everywhere you turn has exploded into a cross-marketing-pollination of vomit offering a Sunglass Hut its first five minutes of fame? Either to hell or Los Angeles. So I opted for LA. Venice, actually. Sure there is nonsense here, but at least on Abbot Kinney the chain stores are not welcome…yet.