A Dress Goes to the Emmys.
If you’ve ever wondered what it is like to attend the Emmy Awards as a fancy person, I am here to help. I have been numerous times including just last month!
Now, I am not connected to TV or Hollywood blahblah at all, but I have a friend who is which made it handy to get in the door.
While my first motive was to be supportive, a huge bonus as a fashion designer is the opportunity to make my own gown and show it off in front of many eyeballs. You know, see how it performs in public.
To be honest, I have never seen the Emmy Awards, nor the Oscars from start to finish on television. I would much rather watch a documentary or knit intarsia cozies for my seafood forks. My TV watching is limited to Stephen Colbert and the Dead Files (ghosts, not zombies).
The first time I made my Emmys dress was 4 years ago and it was a HUGE hit (you can see the dress in the Gallery), so there was mad pressure on me. Naturally, I procrastinated. For me, designing takes equal time daydreaming, sketching and playing with fabric. I eventually decided on a final design and work went along nicely until I figured out that I hated it. It was NOT ME, it was a gross misrepresentation of said Me and I felt it needed to be set on fire. Boring!
It takes time to figure out what is “me”, these things evolve, you know. I have always had a very personal connection with what I put on my body. For me, clothes express something wordless; a feeling, my mood or something I do not yet know.
So, there I was with 9 days to work before my flight to LA.
The process and carnage:
I flew to LA with the dress unfinished, but confident I could pull it off. I actually finished it in my hotel room or rather my hostel room. I had the opportunity to stay at the Four Seasons, but opted for the Banana Bungalow in West Hollywood instead. It’s cozy and much more eclectic. I don’t do well with all that attention rich people get. They’re up your ass every time you walk in the door; they smile cuz you have money. It’s creepy.
I got a taste of LA on the plane as the woman behind me was on the phone discussing matters of major importance. “…just so you know, there will not be one A-list celebrity anywhere nearby…I mean, why would we want OUR STARS to be on THAT red carpet??” Why can’t the Emmys be in New York???
I tried the thing on in my room to decide where to tack the miles of silk tulle that hung from the waist. This tulle is simply gorgeous. It is made of sheer silk that literally floats in the air. Exquisite. Underneath the tulle are two layers of circle skirts, you know, the kind that fly up to be parallel with your waist when you spin around. Think Fred Astaire’s dance partner.
I love volume. I love the motion a garment creates when you walk, that is part of its voice and, if you like, part of yours too. More fabric creates more space, more movement, more sound and therefore more drama. DRAMA! (Like the Erasure song). I tacked one bundle of tulle in the back and one on the shoulder of the dress and promptly took it to a dry cleaner to finish it up.
Hotel room adventures:
Let me take a moment to discuss Los Angeles fashion. LA’s fashion industry is historically known to sportswear-based. Who doesn’t love sportswear? We all own it to some degree. I took a trip up and down Melrose to investigate. A shop that I had liked in past trips was closed and replaced by a store that sold only knit T-shirts and brimmed (trucker-like) caps. There were two more stores just like this very nearby as well! These shops are spacious. You ceremoniously walk across a large stretch of polished flooring to behold merchandise that is hung on garment racks, each item placed with ample personal space to display these 500 dollar T-shirts in all their majesty. The caps are plotted the same way on shelving against the wall. Some of these items had modest graphics, letters or logos on them, but I failed to understand what anything meant.
Below is one of these stores and a similar option for young women:
I have a hard time believing New Yorkers or Chicagoans would keep this sort of store in business. I am, however, delightfully amused by the ‘concept store’, which I suppose these may be; those huge stores with minimalist decor displaying three shirts and one shoe.
Back to the Emmys. On the day of the show, those who are “media industry” have to prepare early. This room is where the ladies have their hair and make-up done. This is the room where you overhear endless gushingly doting compliments and things like: “That is just THE PERFECT shade of pink!” and the word “up-do” on a loop. As I have very little hair I got to skip the blowing-out situation, but in previous years I instructed my hair stylist to: “So, imagine Courtney Love after an 8-day bender. I want that!” For my make-up I would instruct as follows: “Think Marilyn Manson, goth girl slash corpse.” Make-up artists in the past have rolled with this and the results have been amazing! See???
This year, however, the artist had a different idea. When she was finished I looked in the mirror and choked out a: “Holy shit!” I very seriously felt like I looked like a Kardashian. Who took my face??
Past and present – Oy:
I was horrified but there was no time, it was time to dress. I threw the damn thing on, sprayed the shit out of my hair and waited for the go light. Remember on Clueless when Cher’s father said, “everything in LA takes a half an hour to get to”?
Lies. Everything now takes an hour.
We arrived at the Staples Center, the bright incessant LA sun intruding into our brains and wandered around to look for the entrance. There were two red carpets. There is one for media and one for staff and press, or some such. We went media. The red carpet situation changes slightly every year. Last time there were lines of people (I guess news and blogger people) taking pictures on both sides of the walkway clickclickclickclick. This year it was a path where to our right were little stations where different media outlets would, obsessively scanning the crowd, shout at and drag celebrities out of the mass procession to say a word or two. Where were the lay people taking photos? Drat. Incidentally, all of this was under the shelter of a large white tarp.
Photo opps under said tarp:
After this you enter the venue. Getting everyone seated is serious business as it will be on live TV, so we were quite early. The whole
thing takes about 3 hours. One is not allowed to eat nor drink in their seat as that would be unseemly. If, like me, your date is back stage working the actual broadcast and you have an empty seat next to you, you will need a seat-filler. This is done by a human so that no one gets suspicious. There are many many volunteer seat-fillers, they are generally perched against the far walls of the auditorium waiting to pounce. At, every commercial break – EVERY – like EVERY TEN MINUTES my star-gazer seat mate would get up and threaten to step on my piles of very expensive silk to rush out to grab another seat. Whyyyyyyy??? Why can’t they stay put?? I handed out some healthy eye rolls, let me tell you.
The dress.
If you haven’t caught on already I am a bit of a curmudgeon when it comes to LA and the plastic soul-sucking nature of the entertainment industry, it alienates me and makes me uncomfortable. This is the reason for my make-up (it’s comforting) as well as my manicure.
Next is the Ball. Ooo lala. The Governors Ball always seems like some cheesed-out prom to me, but this year wasn’t as bad as the year where it looked like Strawberry Shortcake threw up everywhere. In any case, the workers are very sweet and gracious to all guests. In fact, I was even able to get a kosher meal on the spot as I did not know to request it ahead of time.
In the center of the ball hall is a circular podium where the musicians and singers stand and perform. It rotates slowly so that everyone can catch a view. A group of women with string instruments were gliding out there own versions of songs from the 80’s. Later appeared troupes of singers who sang the same while wiggling out little dance steps in tandem. This was impressive given the rotation. I had to giggle a little at their way-too-peppy version of the song Poison by Bell Biv Devoe “never trust a big butt and a smile!”
All in all it was an exciting time despite my curmudgeonry. It was very gratifying to get feedback on my work, all of which were compliments. Life has taken me in different directions lately and this event gave me the inspiration and kick in the ass that I needed. Thanks, LA!
And while I did not know what 95% of the nominated shows were, nor did I care about seeing actors in person, I have to admit it was pretty cool to see people like Meryl Streep and Robert DeNiro walking by. Were there people there like Woody Allen, Marilyn Manson and Rabbinical scholars that I admire, I would have freaked out. We love what we love.