District L

Every Sunday, I trip over The Sunday Times on my way out the door to brunch. Kicking it inside my apartment, I promise myself that I’ll read it later. And I usually do, however briefly.

But the front page headline of the SundayStyles caught my instant attention today. “The Night Belongs to Paris,” by Ben Detrick, documents the current French infiltration on New York’s party scene, which has been made most apparent by the recent opening of Le Baron. As we all know, The New York Times isn’t exactly recognized for detecting the rapid and, oftentimes, subtle changes in nightlife zeitgeist; This Parisian transformation has been a glaring phenomenon since Le Bain first opened in 2010.

Although this conversation is behind schedule, it requires our nonchalant, accented attention: Hedonistic detachment has become the appreciated alternative to bottle-service-and-bandage-dresses. Girls, in groups no larger than three, unconvincingly hide their cigarettes under tables in the most exclusive nightlife spots. Rejecting our pasteurized, post-Giuliani New York, these stylish Francophones have agreed to breathe casual intemperance back into our evenings.

Azzaro, Paris AW2012

Post by Amanda LaMela

It was March 2007 in Paris and DL was in the height of our former ‘fashion grifting’ ways. Having successfully infiltrated Milan Fashion Week for two seasons in a row, Paris had become our next frontier in runway crashing. We hopped a quick flight from Florence to Charles de Gaulle Airport and wasted no time mapping out runway locations. Brazenly sliding into coveted shows like Cacharel, Rue du Mail, and Jean-Charles de Castelbajac, the fashion show high and champagne bubbles were starting to go to my head. I eventually decided that I would no longer passively accept a standing position and did what any 19-year-old fashion week crasher would do – throw a tantrum.

I know I should now be writing this piece with an apologetic tone, so… I’m sorry I’m not sorry. Because what I had landed was a second row seat to Guy Laroche, rich with the same generous furs, glove accessories, and feather trims that are resurfacing industry-wide this season.

So now that our show-crashing, fit-throwing, and side-door-sneaking days are behind us and we can finally conduct ourselves as courteous fashion professionals, it’s time to take another look at the evolution of this design house.

Back in early 2007, the label’s designer was still Hervé Leroux, otherwise recognized as Hervé Léger. Now darker and edgier, current designer Marcel Marongiu blends his pronounced aesthetic with the rich textures and elegant silhouettes that reeled me in five years ago.

Post by Amanda LaMela

In October 2006, District L was on a northbound train, heading to Milan to crash Fashion Week. Barely 18-years-old, we maximized the power of the American stereotype to convince security, PR assistants, and perhaps even ourselves that we were entitled access to any show.

With sheer elation, we slid into ShirtPassion by Sonia Fortuna. The lights dimmed and centered, then the resounding music began (which, by the way, was Stars are Blind by Paris Hilton). A collection of upbeat looks in light, patterned fabrics circled the runway – and we felt like we were on top of the world. So much so, that during the year we lived in our old, haunted villa in Florence, we hurtled security in both Milan and Paris, attending shows like Guy Laroche, Jean-Charles de Castelbajac, and A/B Soul.

Five years later, we find ourselves in New York as reformed fashion grifters, agreeing that crashing is not only déclassé, but also kind of a sad thing to do as a working “adult.”

Yet on this beautiful day in October 2011, I once again have my bags packed - ready to return to the town where District L began.

Post by Amanda LaMela

This morning, WWD reassured us that Paris Fashion Week remains unaffected by Europe's current terror threat. To the untrained eye, the editors and other members of the fashion elite seem unfazed, but District L will clue you in on the real story:

Anna Wintour: Assistant #3? I've heard murmurs about terror in Paris. Check everyone within 500 yards for red paint... Hello? ...Well, don't just stand there - GO.

Andre Leon Talley: Oh, my dear! It looks like I'll have to change into my Louis Vuitton 'Nonchalance' cape. I'd hate to ruin my purple mink.

Outside the Louvre, smoking a cigarette.

Ines de la Fressange: Karl, darling... Is something bad happening here? Anna's assistant is scouring the Louvre for suspicious activity and Andre is hiding in his Nonchalance cape.

Karl Lagerfeld: Wrong here? Other than this never-ending pregnancy trend, the obesity epidemic, and society's obsession with "love"? Probably.

Ines de la Fressange: Just warn me. I'll just hide inside your collar and -

Karl: Wait! Look!

Ines: What?!

Karl: Are those jogging pants?? I thought I notified the press. Those are the world's stealthiest weapons of ass production.

Post by Amanda LaMela