PRESENTING THE COLLECTION
For designers trying to make it to the next level, a runway show in the famed white tents in New York’s Bryant Park—where models for the likes of Diane von Furstenberg and Oscar de la Renta work the catwalks—has a couture price tag. It costs about $50,000 just to rent a space. That doesn’t include hiring models or a hair and makeup crew. All told, designers can easily spend $100,000 on a show, and top designers can spend much more. All this after spending thousands to produce an original collection worthy of display.
It all adds up to a list price that’s far too steep for the Beckermans’ two-year-old company. Sure, thanks to sales to a Japanese boutique and a large Canadian department store, the sisters have created a business that makes enough to pay for materials, their salaries (minus overtime) and the overhead on the apartment that they share as designing and living space. But a successful show—one that convinces more retailers to buy some or all of their 45-60 piece collection—could push them to the next level in the industry and would boost their cash flow enough to fund a more extensive line of clothes and accessories. The trio, who work seven days a week, might also be able to hire some help.
Now they just needed to make sure they had something great to present. A bad show—poor reviews, a lackluster collection—-can sink a young designer financially and psychologically. “If a new designer gets consistently bad press, unless they have a relative somewhere, they’re not going to be seen in stores,” says Stan Herman, president of the Council of Fashion and Design. Good press is really what young designers need, he says: “Buzz. It’s a silly word, but it’s buzz.”
Using some of their limited financial capital, the sisters splurged on a trip to Amsterdam this past spring. The jaunt paid off. They were inspired by the women they saw there, girly girls showing their tough side, and began work on a new collection. The goal for this year’s show: put on a more professional event than last season’s and draw a crowd that includes at least a few fashion VIPs—editors from magazines like Women’s Wear Daily that write career-making (or breaking) reviews and buyers from high-fashion department stores like Saks Fifth Avenue and Bergdorf Goodman. “I don’t care if it’s three people,” says Carol Leggett, the sisters’ new press representative (and surrogate auntie), “if it’s the right three people.”
It takes months to produce a collection, but only minutes to show it off. So everything—the space, the models, and the outfits (or “looks”)—has to be perfectly coordinated and accessorized. Because showing in the main tent is so prohibitively expensive, the Beckermans have rented a sunny loft on nearby West 37th Street for about $5,000, to show from 4 to 6 p.m. In the crush of Fashion Week, editors and buyers don’t always have time to check out new talent, but since the loft is walking distance from the larger shows, people are more likely to drop in.
But how to present their collection? Like many young designers, the Beckermans decided on an installation, or posed presentation of the clothes, rather than trying to fit a traditional runway show into the small space. More a work of art than a show, the models parade down a short runway, then stand on elevated blocks for about five minutes to give the audience a chance to view the collection up close. “It feels fresh because people have been focused on the runway for so long,” says Tali Sedgwick, a freelance production coordinator who helped the Beckermans run the show backstage. Because it’s such a short show, the installation can run several times to impress guests just walking in.
Next is finding the right people to show off the Beckerman look. A model who fits the theme of a collection and knows how to work a look can be worth her weight (maybe a little more) in gold. The sisters want doll-like girls who fit their fun, tough-girlie theme. But new designers like the Beckermans can rarely afford to pay even entry-level models, who in New York command about $500 per walk. Instead, the sisters will stage a “for trade” show, in which the models get to choose one complete ensemble from the Beckerman collection in lieu of payment. Since top agencies like Wilhelmina, Ford, Elite and IMG rarely send their girls even to try out for such shows, the sisters hired a casting coordinator, who goes by the name Sudha, to ask the agencies to send some girls. At the casting call, the sisters and Sudha make sure the girls can walk well and look right in the garments. But what’s most important is how the girls look on paper. “Some models are not the prettiest in real life, but in 2-D—wow,” Sudha says, flipping through one model’s book of photographs for emphasis. Good photographs—which is how most people in the business will view the Beckermans’ collection—are crucial.
The Beckermans were hoping for 20 girls to wear their 20 looks. After a four-hour casting call, they were able to confirm 18 girls for the show, mostly from well-respected agency Vision (including Nazri, a model who appeared on this season’s “Project Runway”), and even two from Elite. That is, they’re committed—but only if they don’t get a paying gig at the last minute.
THE SHOW
A few hours before show time, the 11th-floor loft on 37th Street is humming with MAC makeup artists and hair stylists from Scott J Salons who are painting lips, dusting faces and curling hair into big, loose ringlets. Both big companies chose to help sponsor the Beckermans as up-and-coming designers, so rather than shell out around $20,000 for a professional crew of 30 hair stylists and makeup artists, the sisters were given the help gratis. Around them, leggy models wander in street clothes, picking at the buffet table of sandwich wraps, cookies, cheese, fruit and vegetables. Harried helpers with clipboards dart from one end of the room to another, making sure the models have all arrived (they haven’t) and that everybody knew what to do (they don’t).
By 3 p.m., Carol, the press representative is insisting that the Beckermans get their hair and makeup done. The three women sit in the middle of the bustle, trying to look relaxed. “We’re definitely more prepared, and more confident” than last year, Chloe says, as a stylist curls her shoulder-length blond hair.
The Beckermans also have had a lot more help this time around. Five or six friends and a boyfriend have shown up to help organize the music, steam garments and decorate the staging area with flowers and old bicycles rented to add to the Amsterdam theme. The sisters also have six people to help the models in and out of their looks during the show and Carol to smooth out the other wrinkles—“like making sure to cater the day before, so you don’t have to worry about it the day of,” Chloe says. It’s a good thing, since the girls were up until 5 a.m. putting the finishing touches on their collection. “Can you tell?” Cailli asks, widening her blue eyes in between touches of eye shadow. (You can’t.) “Maybe not with the makeup,” she says with a laugh.
At 3:30, the back room is hazy with hair spray and steam. One model says she’s allergic to MAC makeup, sending people scrambling to find a different brand of bright-red lipstick. “We can’t risk putting anything on her face—we’ll be liable for her whole week,” Sudha explains. Finally someone produces a pinkish stick of Elizabeth Arden. The makeup artist frowns. “It’s not red,” he says. “It’s better than nothing,” Sudha counters. Crisis averted. Chloe, Cailli and Sam head to the fitting room to start dressing models. This time, there’s room for three garment racks, tables of accessories, eight volunteers to dress the models and room to walk around in. Tali gathers the models, most of them still in curlers, their fake eyelashes fluttering, to explain how to walk: “It’s a mini-runway,” she says. The models are to walk down the center of the room, pose for the photographers, and stand up on the risers. At the sound of a bicycle bell, they’re to file backstage for the next set of girls. One of the models—blond, blue-eyed, red-lipped and 22—sits down on a window ledge to take a break. She’s done installations before. “Standing can be really hard,” she says, especially in the six-inch platform heels most models will wear in the show. “Your feet are throbbing, but the effect is kinda cool. You’re this set figure, and they’re going to look at each thing. It’s kind of powerful.”
Just before 4 p.m., the scheduled show time, the sisters think it might be cool to have one of the models ride a bicycle around the installation. They ask one of the models to try riding, then, imagining what could happen if it went wrong, decide against it. Three models are missing—they only have 15—so the leftover looks are reassigned. Tali strides through the fitting room, shouting for everyone to get dressed. Cailli starts helping Nazri into her dress. She’ll be the first on the runway. At least one other person helps each model into her look, cramming feet into shoes, pulling on a shirt and tying a sash all at once. At 4:10 a 16th model arrives, looking confused. The Beckermans send her home—the looks have already been reassigned. By 4:20, Tali clears the backstage area, and a few hair and makeup artists slip in to repaint lips and touch up bare knees. The models are lined up, dressed and ready to go. The music starts pumping. Tali rings the bicycle bell and Nazri, in a pink and white silk print dress and nude shoes, struts through the door and down the runway. Model after model follows.
The crowd of 35 or so who have gathered for the first show, many of them fresh from Betsey Johnson’s show in the tent, watches attentively. The Beckermans appear to be fashionably on time for this Fashion Week. According to the Council of Fashion and Design’s Herman, this season was all about “the new.” Of the some 180 shows slated for the week, Herman says that buyers and the press—especially those from Europe—were more interested in new talent than the tried-and-true designers. “Everybody’s looking in that direction.” At the moment, the audience is focused on the fun, light-hearted Beckerman collection on display. There are silent nods and smiles, some whispered praise. Not all of the models have perfect top-model polish. Some turn too fast for the photographers to snap photographs, and a few teeter as they climb up on the risers in wobbly heels, generating a few snickers. But once they hold their poses, the Beckermans’ talent for matching looks earns nods and approving murmurs from the crowd.
The show is over in a half hour, and the Beckermans’ own smiles are back. They come down the runway beaming, holding hands and blowing kisses to a clapping audience. “Oh my gosh, I can breathe,” Chloe says. Of course, not for long. Five minutes later, they’re helping the models back into their first look—they’ll do the show three more times for new crowds until 6 p.m. In between, Carol drags them away from backstage to meet and greet important industry people, including a reporter from Women’s Wear Daily who has checked out their collection before the show and plans to write a review for the prestigious magazine, which is a huge coup for the sisters. “If they don’t come, that means the industry isn’t paying attention,” Carol says.
THE REVIEW
The next day, WWD gives the show two lines. “Canadian sisters Caillianne, Samantha and Chloe Beckerman twisted things up for spring with a playful collection of girly dresses and biker-inspired separates—perfect for the quirky hipster.” Now that the show’s been packed up and the models off working someone else’s designs, the Beckermans are back to work. The next project: their “look book,” their collection’s official catalog, which needs to be photographed, produced and on editors’ desks when they return from Paris in early October. It’s a 2-D “show” that offers all the different fabrics and colors available for each of their garments. Pants will retail for $150-$225, and dresses for $350-$500. Once they get the look books, buyers will begin placing orders. That’s when the Beckermans will find out whether their money, talent and hard work have paid off.
