Fashion Week Berlin 2008: A Diary

The following are entries from a diary I kept during the course of one day of Berlin’s 2008 fashion week.  The author, over the course of the day became increasingly drunk and the entries became increasingly erratic and difficult to read.  This is the best I have been able to come up with from the material I was provided.

FRIDAY JULY 18

12:18 – Entered the lounge area which is full of square white seats which have a scattering of people doing a lot of looking around sitting on them.  There is a preponderance of tall slim girls with sharply angled faces mingling about.  I grab a beer from the Veltin’s girls.  I have a feeling they will be seeing a lot more of me over the course of the weekend.  When I come back with my beer I see that the magazine I set on my seat is now being read by the lady who was sitting across from me and a man has taken me seat.  I give up and go to the media center to plug in my video camera battery.

12:21 – the media center is a shoebox full of sweaty journalists on laptops.  I get out of there as fast as possible.

12:26 – Just realized I only have 4 photos left on my Holga, need to go buy film.  

13:06 – Have just sat down inside the fashion show area proper with Philip.  They took our fresh beers away at the door on the way in.  Drat.

13:13 – I can’t figure out if there are a bunch of girls who look the same or if they are just exceptionally fast changers.  Breast size seems to average an a-cup.  Expressions seem to average from blank to bored.  They kind of lean back so that their front legs look kind of like the front legs of horse kind of prancing out in front of the body.

13:15 – People just started clapping.  Ah, the show is over.  

13:18 – So that’s it.  Our first fashion show.  Am slightly underwhelmed.  Some girl is trying to get us to leave the catwalk area already as I write this.  I need a beer.

13:27 – Beer number 3.  Someone took my magazine again without asking.  A lot of milling around.

13:47 – Beer number 4.  Am bored.  Philip went to talk to the Swarovski girl and disappeared.  There is a guy wearing one of those thin headbands in his hair.  Color = teal.  I am wondering how much these girls get paid for dressing up like stewardesses and handing out energy drinks.  

14:14 – In the shuttle right now to go to “Premium”, whatever that is.  Hilarious that we are getting driven around the city.  We are with a Costa Rican and a German girl.  The Costa Rican works in investment banking and is talking about how she wants to go to “fabulous” parties.  I can’t imagine spending time alone with this girl.

14:29 – We are at the “Premium” exhibition.  Met two girls w/ wings who gave me an organic apple.  Organic = Biologique in German.

14:52 – Back in shuttle.  Looks like we might miss the next show.  French girl in car.

16:06 – Penkov show now.  We didn’t miss it because it actually has the girls standing still in two lines like Buckingham Palace guards with everyone just walking around them, checking them out.  I find this is actually a better way to view fashion then the quick walk up and down the catwalk.  Drinking champagne now.

16:18 – Decide to try and interview models at Philip’s urging.  I don’t expect them to respond, but in fact they seem to enjoy the break and most of them have a pretty good sense of humor.

16:32 – Philip was determined to steal a couple of the champagne glasses and now they are in my backpack where I am certain they will soon break into smithereens.  We are trying to get a shuttle and finally grab one but it turns out not to be going back to the main location.  

16:45 – See the very end of another show, which actually looked kind of nice since it was outside on some strange concrete structure.  Take off quickly to get to the front of the shuttle line.

17:33 – Beer number 8 or so.  Back in the lounge at this point which is getting quite packed; Philip has talked our way into some awards show thing which starts in half an hour.

17:45 – One of Philips friends is spotting celebrities and then we are interviewing them.  My interviews tend a bit toward the ridiculous as I have no knowledge of who these people actually are.

18:07 – I wrote beer number 8 a second time in my notebook.  This is a telling sign of my state of sobriety.  The show is about to start.

18:40 – My handwriting at this point is difficult to decipher.  If I remember correctly Philip and I managed to smuggle drinks into the show in order to avoid descending into anything resembling a semi-coherent state.

19:24 – My notes seem to revolve around having to go to the bathroom really badly and the announcer saying “Megacool!” repeatedly.  

*This is where the notes for the night end.  After the New Generation show ended the author and friends headed over to the Michalsky show, which was followed by the Michalsky party.  The author and friends were out of their collective gourds at this point and acting in a manner not unlike that of the common jackass.  The author was not prepared for an entire day of free drinks.

SATURDAY, JULY 19

The next day I skipped fashion week altogether except for a cameo appearance at the Premium party that night, which was, in fact, quite a lot of fun.

SUNDAY, JULY 20

Went to the Kai Kuhne show at 5pm, then hung around with Philip and Dino for the Vivian Westwood show which everyone seemed to be losing their shit over.  I am in no position to judge whether this shit losing is merited, but it did seem a bit excessive.  In the end I was not paying attention when they called us in, and, since they had overbooked, by the time I finally made my way to the entrance they had cut off the admissions.  So I got to hear about the show from Philip and Dino afterwards.  Apparently the models did some sort of pose-striking at the end of the catwalk, and at when it was over Westwood got a standing ovation.  So I guess all ended well for the Berlin fashion week.  And if there was a Westwood afterparty we were not able to catch scent of it, which is probably for the best.  

All in all, an enjoyable time was had, and I must recommend fashion week to any group of friends who are looking to visit a foreign city.  Just apply for your fake media credentials online and let the free drinks roll.

Obama in Berlin

Just about 23 hours ago they opened the gates to allow the first spectators to gather at the foot of the Victory Column, facing away from the Brandenburger Tor – the originally desired location – to listen to the presidential candidate for the democratic party speak.  And gather they did – 200,000 of “them,” by some estimates.  

And if you were to look to the American media it would seem that “they” loved it.  In the Los Angeles Times the headline read “Obama’s Berlin speech appears to resonate with crowd.”  The San Francisco Chronicle goes so far as to suggest a “Rapturous reception for Obama in Berlin.”

But if you were to listen to a more reliable source (me), you would realize that this was not exactly the case.  I was there.  I was “them.”  And I was in the part of the crowd that you didn’t see on television.  You have to realize, see, that the people closest to the stage were the people that had in fact arrived multiple hours in advance of the speech to secure that position.  That is crazy.  By extension, those people are crazy.  Or, perhaps fanatical is a gentler way to put it.  Then we could rewrite the San Francisco Chronicle’s headline to read “Obama fanatics give Obama a Rapturous reception in Berlin”.  Well, duh.

The part of the crowd that I was in could only see Obama on a distant video screen (and I was probably in approximately the mid-point of the crowd).  This was the crowd that had arrived at ten to seven for a seven o’clock speech.  These were the normal people; people who were interested in Obama and wanted to see him in person.  These people were disappointed.

Like when you fork over 10 dollars to go see a movie, these people were definitely willing to give Obama the benefit of the doubt.  Just as you hope you enjoy the movie, they wanted to like Obama, they wanted to be impressed.  These people weren’t impressed.

They first became confused when Obama started talking about the generosity of the US Marshall plan.  There seemed to be a collective “Jesus, not this again” in the air.  And I don’t blame them, it is kind of like your friend suggesting you should show more gratitude toward him/her because of the fact that their grandfather once lent your grandfather twenty dollars.  Not only is it no longer relevant, but it’s self-servingly disingenuous.

Then came the “shadow of communism” segment.  People started looking at each other at this point; “This is Obama?”  Sure there were some clapping, but it felt like clapping out of relief: “Well at least that made sense”.  The biggest applause – other than the end of the speech – was when he said we needed a world peace without nuclear weapons.  But that applause died out when it became apparent that he didn’t really mean for everyone to get rid of their nuclear weapons but for the spread of nuclear weapons to be stopped. So what began as a statement that everyone supported turned into a veiled threat against Iran.  More looking around.

His statements about terror drew no claps.  His comment that “nations needed to join together” had people on the verge of clapping until, in listing the two reason for this necessity, he put ensuring security ahead of advancing humanity. Sighs.

When the speech ended – after a brief thirty minutes – there was clapping but no excitement.  Obama talks a lot about hope, and people had gone in hoping for a hero.  Hoping for a politician who actually believed in the same things they did; who wasn’t afraid of being idealistic.  When they left that hope had receded into an “at least he’s better than McCain” sentiment.  Oh, well.  Not this time.  Another 50% movie on the tomato meter.

1st Impressions of Berlin: Part 2

Here we are, back with the final installment of my initial Berlin impressions.

Berlin Apartments (memory = toss-up, reality = toss-up)

When you tell someone you are going to Berlin they tell you how you can get a gigantic place for next to nothing.  At least that’s what they told me.  So that’s what I expected.  The second part came true.  The downside was that my room was exactly the width of the length of a bed.  It was like living in a hallway. This made it terrible for hanging out; the arrangement of people and furniture made you kind of feel as if you were on the subway.

After living in this apartment for 6 months I was perusing Craigslist and came across a studio for rent that was 800 square feet and going for just over 300 euro – right on the border of Kreuzberg and Neukolln.  It was an exceptional place if you did not mind the lack of kitchen or shower (I didn’t so much).  The lesson to be learned is that Berlin (and perhaps this is true everywhere) really is a city of compromise when it comes to apartments (or maybe it is yet another of the “cheap, good, fast: pick two” paradigm).

Presently my apartment is basically the same shape as the first apartment I lived in – a long narrow corridor.  This time, however, it is also located directly above the stage where live bands play four times per week in the bar below.  In addition, my flatmate, who I like, is a packrat and the apartment is full of crap.  I hate that.  The upside is that the location is impeccable.  I am in the middle of Mitte at Rosenthaler Platz, right at the bottom of Kastanienallee.  My future room, which I am moving to at the end of the month (this one for 310 euro), is in an apartment with 4 other people closer to my age and with a gigantic 550 square foot room.

Final verdict: Berlin is still a cheap place to live and if you have the luxury of arriving first and taking a month to find a place you will most likely end up with something pretty stellar.

Washing Machines (memory = small with lots of buttons, reality = small and extremely slow with lots of buttons)

I don’t know if this is another one of those silly German power saving ideas, but when I went to do my laundry yesterday I had two loads and I was able to watch an entire mountain stage of the Tour de France from start to finish (about 180km, at an average of 34km/hr) before my clothes were finished.  As for the buttons and dials, I still have no clue.  I mean, basically we are dealing with a spinning metal cylinder that water can go in and out of.  How many variations can one really achieve with these elements?

Artists (memory = slightly annoying, reality = even more annoying)

This isn’t totally fair, since it is also one of the reasons that I like Berlin.  But give me a fucking break.  I am tired of the kids who have just graduated from university and go around telling everyone they’re a poet.  I like to play basketball in my free time but I don’t introduce myself as a basketball player.  Because it doesn’t make any sense.  So if you like to write poetry, terrific, but don’t call yourself a poet.  And the second part of the annoyance factor is when the other people around eat it up and encourage them.  Which they tend to. So there is this delusional world of people here who go around calling themselves artists and who generally spend all their time drinking and talking about their artistry.  

So there we have it.  First impressions of Berlin.

1st Impressions of Berlin: Part 1

I arrived in Berlin just over a week ago.  Since then it has been sunny for approximately 15 minutes and the temperature has not gone over 23˚C.  I have noted that during this time it has been sunny every single minute with highs of between 27 and 31 in Los Angeles.  Did I mention that I came here from Los Angeles? Somehow, I knew this was going to happen.  My presence in Berlin has been indisputably and historically linked to crap summer weather.  I know what you are thinking.  You are thinking you don’t believe me.  But we’ll see what you continue to think once I present you with the evidence:

EVIDENCE

• Berlin, Summer of 2006 – beautiful, sunny and hot (I am not in Berlin)
• Berlin, Summer of 2007 – crappy, not often sunny, not often hot (I am in Berlin)
• Berlin, Summer of 2008 up until July 10 – beautiful, sunny and hot (I am not in Berlin)
• Berlin, Summer of 2008 after July 10 – cappy, not often sunny, not often hot (I am in Berlin)

So there we are.  If that isn’t proof enough for you then you probably still believe that we are all related.

Seeing as I have lived in Berlin previously there hasn’t been that new city excitement, but instead a comfortable process of rediscovery.  Some of my rediscoveries, in no particular order, and how they measured up to the memory.

German Toilets (memory = crap, reality = crap)

Why?  There are some experiences that you wonder this for the first encounter, then you accept and grow accustomed to it; for example when you see Japanese people reading vertical text.  These experiences are different from our own, but are not necessarily non-sensical.  They can often be interesting as they remind us of the arbitrary nature of so many things we take for granted.  Round prongs vs. Flat prongs in power outlets.  Coins with holes in them.  Forks vs. Chopsticks.  

Sometimes we even become aware of a better way of doing things.  The two paper L-technique of rolling joints taught to me in France, the yellow signal light coming on just before the green to tell you to get ready to go, as seen in various European countries, the total absence of traffic laws for scooters in Korea, and so on.

And sometimes we become aware of worse ways of doing things.  And then there are German toilets. Imagine this: instead of your excrement gently sliding into a basin of water where (unless it’s a floater) the smell is fairly benign, it lands on a bone-dry shelf.  And sits there.  And sits there.  Until you finish and flush.  It stinks.  The conductivity of smells through air is much faster than through water.  

I have asked Germans about this and no one has been able to provide any explanation.  None.  A baffled friend I had visiting from North America dubbed it, appropriately, the “crap shelf”.  Which is exactly what it is.  It is like taking a crap and setting it on a shelf where you can both smell and observe it to your heart’s delight.  I could possibly imagine this being something that came out of Eastern Germany due to government monopolies, shady contracts, and a scat-minded engineer, but as far as I can tell these are still being manufactured and purchased.  This may be the single most baffling thing about Germany.

Partying All Night (memory = great, reality = slightly less than great, but close)

I don’t know how many nights I cursed the 1:30am closing time of bars in LA.  Probably close to all of them. But I do know how many times I thanked the law makers of california for the 1:30am closing time of bars in LA.  Approximately 2-4 times per week.  And I do know when.  At 9:45am (when my first alarm would ring). And to be more precise, 9:45am on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesday, Thursdays and Fridays.  

Now, I don’t necessarily have to get up at any particular hour for the next 73 days, but the point remains the same.  As much as I hated having the government decide when the fun was over, it did keep me from getting fired from my day job.  Or, to be more general, it allowed me to continue functioning as a semi-productive member of society.  Here in Berlin I was hanging out with a friend who told me that she hadn’t been to bed before 5am in weeks.  When she told me this it was 6am in the morning.  On a Monday.  I woke up at 3pm that day.  You can see where this is going.

Additionally, the 1:30am closing time in Los Angeles encourages a dynamic after hours scene and lots of illegal places that will serve as long as they have customers.  As well as more house parties.  And I love house parties.  Wasn’t there someone who said something about necessity being the mother of creativity?

The Euro (memory = crap exchange rate, reality = crap shelf exchange rate)

Come on USA!  Get your shit together!  

Germans Re: US beer (memory = idiots, reality = still idiots)

I once bought a couple Germans visiting me in the States a 6-pack of Becks so they would shut up about “American Beer”.  They went on to complain that the Becks in the US was not the same as the Becks in Germany.  At that point I realized that they were completely full of shit and gave up.  My thought on beer is: Who gives a shit?  I know a lot of people are not going to agree with me on that one, and I don’t agree with myself in the sense that I do not like most dark beer, but how much fucking difference is there between one pilsener and another?  The answer, whether you like it or not, is not too damn much.  I drink PBR and I like it.  So there.

I AM INTERRUPTING THIS COLUMN TO CRASH BERLIN FASHION WEEK, BEGINNING TOMORROW.  

NEWS WILL FOLLOW.