Indie Designer Spotlight

[The following is a guest post by Angie Jones, a freelance fashion writer]

A freezing night and a walk down a desolate, trash-strewn backstreet led to the fourth annual Williamsburg Fashion Weekend (WFW), held last Friday and Saturday.  Eight local designers showed off their latest collections in a drafty warehouse space called Glasslands Gallery in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.

Unlike its orthodox great grandmother Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week, WFW takes pride in promoting edgy designs by untraditional emerging artists.  And if it holds true to its claim as the bridge by which “Art and Fashion Meet,” then featured designer Kaytee of PapuszaCouture is the black cat who calls this bridge home.

Kaytee holds West Coast roots and is a fresh addition to the Brooklyn scene.  Her line is made up of unique designs which are handmade, one-of-a-kind compositions.  She regards their creation as an outlet for her admiration of the other worldly, outlandish and somewhat morbid.  Her Friday night exhibition offered a fleeting glimpse into her world.

A juxtaposition of delicate baroque charm and 1980’s Goth were prevalent as PapuszaCouture’s new collection, “Origami Pink,” was modeled by an alluring assemblage of femme fatales.  An array of eye catching dresses, gowns and separates where presented in strategic, billowy layers of satin and silk.  Some were accompanied by corsets and fishnets; others swelled with feathers or were affixed with faux taxidermy.  Each model put on an elaborate performance, evoking eerie pleasure and capturing the essence of the designer.  A mythological nymph, a bird in heat and a wind-up doll were just a few of the characters revealed through expressive choreography.  You’d be surprised at how feminine one can look while tonguing a skull.  And the unforgettable grand finale was a passionate waltz with a skeleton – while on stilts!

“The little girl from Seattle has made her mark,” declared organizer Arthur Arbit following the show.  The black cat beneath the bridge let out a fierce meow as she sat among her dead birdies, of which were not slain but, rather, came to rest in her domain.

- Angie Jones

Jeff Truelove – photography

Jeff Truelove – photography

Jeff Truelove – photography

Natalie Jade Ray Photography

Natalie Jade Ray Photography

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