Day 68: World of Wearable Art

Today was the World of Wearable Art, or WOW. (Completely as an aside, "WOW" always irks a small part of me with the arbitrariness of its acronym. I would suggest changing it to "World of Wearable Zealand Art" and shortened it into the perhaps more gimmicky but at least more consistent "WOWZA". Come on, I'm not asking for much, just a radical rehaul of what you call yourself!)

So, since Claire and I came to New Zealand, we've been really excited about this World of Wearable Art business. We had read that it had to do with clothes and art (one might say wearable art), but other than that, had a gaping hole where knowledge should be. We both had the vague notion of it being some sort of exhibition or renfaire type event, where people come to take a gander at other people's talent, so it didn't even occur to us that we might have to actually plan ahead and purchase tickets.

Luckily, one day going into town, I sat in front of two gentlemen who were discussing opening night. One of them had gone, and he was expressing to his companion how amazing it was. I wish that I had turned around to talk to the man, because he had the most fantastic observations, made more impressive by the fact that he was speaking so eloquently at 7:20 in the morning.. He talked about how he didn't know anything about the World of Wearable Art and had expected it to simply be a fashion show (which was more accurate than what I had in my head). I wish I could capture the way he described it, but I only remember a few lines, and only then because I was struck by precisely they captured an idea. When he was describing how the show was set up, he said, "I would be surprised if any of the people wearing the costumes were models." He paused, searching for the word for it, "They all moved like dancers."

Then, later, he was trying to articulate the scale of the event: "It almost reminded me of Cirque du Soleil, in the sheer spectacle of it. Of course, it's not really the same at all. Cirque du Soleil is really all about performance. This-- this was art."

After eavesdropping, I was thoroughly convinced that this would be something that Claire and I needed to attend, and purchased tickets as soon as I could.

The entire act of buying tickets was a bit hairy, as we tried to do it online on a weekend when the box office was closed. Unlike Ticketmaster or any other online box office system I've ever used, there was no confirmation email or anything. The website merely swallowed my credit card information and ticket requests and placidly let me know that they'd try to process it within five days. After a few slightly confused days of wanting to know whether or not I'd get tickets, much less have time to physically receive the tickets, I checked my bank account and found that they had taken out the requisite cash. After another day, I was relieved to find that they had, in fact, used the money for tickets and had mailed them out.

Which is a long way of saying that Claire and I managed to get the last tickets in the last row of the arena, and I am so glad we did.

Again, I had no idea what this whole event would entail, so I was moderately surprised to realize that there was a main stage with something like five mini thrust stages (the man on the train referred to them as "pods"). As we took our seats, a lady with an oversize corset draped around her waist and wearing half a doll as a hat stopped by and we chatted for a bit. Anyway, after the anticipation became palpible, the lights went down, the music started up, and there began two hours of me clutching at my chest for the joy and splendor of it.

There were several themed sets where there would be a backdrop of some sort on the main stage with a dozen or so phenomenal backup dancers, while the models, in their visually stunning outfits came out and strutted, danced, and somersaulted from one pod to the next. (I confess, in my ignorance I thought that each set was designed by one person a la individual collections in Fashion Week, and I was absolutely poleaxed. It turns out that each designer submitted an outfit to a theme, rather than submitting an entire theme and collection, which made much more sense.)

Highlights, because otherwise this would be embarrassingly effusive:

• The South Pacific section was the opening set, and it made me immediately understand what the man on the train said about the models being dancers. I was immediately struck by how many of the outfits weren't made for people to stand in, but for action and movement. There were more than a few dresses that just flowed from one pod to the next, more gorgeous in action than in repose.
  
  
• The entire Illuminated Illusions segment. Because I was viewing these as a collection rather than as individual segments, I was enthralled by the idea of this as some sort of deepsea exhibition. The entire stage was dark, except for the fluorescent outfits, some individually illuminated, others brightened with blacklight. (In more I-misread-things news, I was really struck by "Caught in the Maelstrom," which I saw as a whirlwind of autumn leaves rather than a hurricane of human bodies. I think the outfit became even more striking when I saw an upclose image of it after the show. Grim but with such amazing movement!) At the very end of the segment, people (I assume) ran across the stage with huge wings of fabric, lit up white and flowing. I didn't even know what to do with myself, it was all so striking.
  
  
• I am absolutely convinced that the introduction to the Children's Section was actually made specifically for me. Someone at the World of Wearable Art reached into my brain, shook it for all things that I love, and designed this set to perfection. It began with a giant book descending from the rafters, then the book slowly opened and revealed a giant popup castle set, from which people in these fantastic little flat outfits, reminiscent of paper cutouts, spilled out. There were paper princesses and knights and dragons and typography projected onto the castle. At the very end of the set, the projected typography made a crashing noise and the letters spilled into piles against the castle.
  
  
• The introduction to the avante garde segment was another bit that made me think that this show was made with me in mind. It began with a spotlight falling on a single violinist wearing a dress with voluminous drapery and she began to play. There was such drama and theatre to all of the models that I had assumed that the woman with the violin was just another dancer with a particularly convincing false violin performance. When I realized that the woman was doing vibrato and her bowing was actually in line with the music, I clutched at Claire with the hand not pressed against my heart, and then a spotlight lit up a cellist and I think I may have fallen over.
  
  
• The sheer hilarity that was the Bizarre Bras section. As I mentioned, I interpreted these all as single collections, and I boggled at the idea of one person (or maybe even with a team of assistants) sitting down and sewing every possible object onto two wearable cups. On the plus side, it was by far the most wonderfully ludicrous exhibition and the only way to watch it was to laugh and clap and be impressed by the panache of the midriff-baring men and women as they shook their thangs to Copacabana.

Overall, it was awesome. There were so many things to look at that I keep wanting to write about everything (the circus bits! The rose dress! the gumby outfits! the audacity of the giant steel palm trees! The flamenco panache of the Cycle of a Fungus dress! The cleverness of the Matroshka doll dress and the animation of the cat outfit!) but there is a finite amount of space and I doubt my ability to communicate the way the whole exhibition was just a chunk out of a different world.

For a better idea of what kind of outfits there were, do browse the World of Wearable Art website and boggle at human ingenuity. It is all so very, very cool.