I think it was about halfway through Toronto Fashion Week last fall when I found myself huddled over in a corner, exhausted, in the middle of an unceremoniously-packed “media” room. Simultaneously glancing over at the crowd of press puppies that had formed, while shooting an icy glare at the foreign lady who had backed me into the aforementioned corner with her protruding knit tote bag, I realized there were better ways to experience and celebrate Canadian fashion — and it wasn’t necessarily under the tents.

Whereas fashion week used to be a chance for buyers and editors to preview the new collections and tap into the designers’ inspirations for the season, it’s been watered down to an over-the-top “event,” complete with over-the-top characters (read: guys in skirts/girls in anything with feathers). It doesn’t help that Toronto staged its fashion week this year almost a month after everyone else, meaning buyers had already placed most of their orders for fall, and writers had already seen many of the clothes at press previews weeks beforehand. That left the small group of designers showing at LG Fashion Week to entertain an audience of sponsors, students and self-proclaimed “socialites,” whose only talent seemed to be finding a front-row seat to steal just before the lights went down on the runway. Am I bitter? Perhaps. But only because we insist on promoting these people as “fashionable” or tag them with a seemingly ubiquitous press pass. Likewise, some designers just aren’t ready to show their collections yet, despite what their friends and supporters may be telling them. They say you only get one chance to make a first impression, so wouldn’t it be better to wait until you’re ready, with a solid perspective and a meticulously-perfected collection behind you? (that means no loose seams or gawdy outfits!) In my dream scenario, organizers of fashion week would understand the difference between gimmicks and innovation. They would promote the labels with the most potential, as opposed to opening the runway to anyone who couple afford the registration fee. And they would only invite select clients, buyers and editors.

The truth is, I did attend a couple shows this year at LG Fashion Week’s new Allstream Centre location. It was the Pink Tartan/Joe Fresh doubleheader, and I went to check out the much-heralded venue (a significant step up from last season’s makeshift tents) and to support a PR friend who was working that night. It didn’t hurt that I have a not-so-secret infatuation with Joe Mimran’s rumored-and-confirmed “celebrity” model Crystan Renn (above right), who both opened and closed the Joe Fresh show with her signature stomp and steady gaze. The clothes too, were right on trend, with plenty of military-prep and grunge-inspired looks in black, brown and beige. (Classic plaid skirts and cardigans played to a simpler aesthetic, while studded jackets and faux fur pelts swung the dynamic beautifully the other way). As for Pink Tartan, while the music played like one continuous drone (my friend remarked that it “sounded like the music they play when they stage a fashion segment on daytime TV”), the dresses, tops and jackets were refreshingly stately, and marked a sophisticated upgrade from the label’s last collection.

The best shows in town weren’t held at the Allstream Centre, and many weren’t even held on runways at all. Philip Sparks introduced his “Moby Dick”-inspired collection (above) weeks ago at the Burroughes Building on Queen Street, with the old furniture store serving as the ideal backdrop for Sparks’ utilitarian coats, sharp wool suiting and soft flannel shirts. Mikey Thomas and Drew Thomas (no relation) showed their second collection for “Thomas” at the Clint Roenisch Gallery, with models trotting down a narrow hardwood hallway in heavy black boots and an all-black uniform of draped knits, skinny pants and asymmetrical jackets. And Rita Liefhebber (whose collection we saw at the Rendez-Vous show in New York last month), did everyone one better: she invited guests to get an up-close look at the garments, worn by models standing in the back of a Ryder truck.

At these presentations, the mood was decidedly relaxed and fashion-focused. There was nary a “socialite” or student blogger in sight. And at least for a few moments — despite the din of throbbing music, or the clinking of wine glasses, or the threat of an overcrowding complaint from police — everything just felt right. It was the perfect marriage of show and tell, the right mix of critics and customers, and the best opportunity to take in and appreciate good quality design. It was everything Toronto Fashion Week should be — and could be — and everything we are still waiting for it to become.

- TC

(All photos by Jenna Marie Wakani)