A Beddyby Lullaby: Frederick Anderson and The Puppy Dog Sheets

February 10th, 2020, Frederick Anderson at 7 am, curled up underneath his flannel puppy dog sheets, covering his king mattress, awoke to silence his alarm. He slowly rose, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and slid his tosies into the slippers calmly waiting at the foot of his bed. After showering, and spending an exorbitant amount of time polishing his big bald forehead, he threw on a simple black suit complimented by a white dress shirt. “Hmmmm,” he thought, as this ensemble was not as stylish and provocative as he hoped; so embodying the playful and experimental nature he so profoundly exemplifies, he unbuttoned the first four buttons and left in a hurry, as to not be late for his show.

Funny thing is, I happened to do the exact same thing. After neatly making my bed, and tucking my puppy dog sheets underneath my comforter, I left the house in a hurry to make it on time to my first-ever New York Fashion Week show. Skipping up the stairs from the train station, I promptly crossed the street and waited in line amongst a sea of old rich New York heads. I was by far the youngest in attendance, and quickly generated waves of whispers throughout the elderly crowd. The line was quickly escorted in, and I plopped down into my front-row seat anxiously awaiting the first model. While waiting for Frederick to get things started, I began conversating with some of my neighbors, and they curiously asked about my reason for attendance, prompting a response by suggesting my girlfriend was one of the models. Being the trickster I am, I slyly replied yes, with a big grin on my face, assuring them she was the hot one. I quickly realized this was a mistake as seconds later the doors opened and the models streamed out.

The models were tall as shit, no one was under 6 foot 6. I couldn’t even get their whole bodies in frame when taking pictures. I swear Frederick went to the zoo and chose his 20 favorite giraffes when casting. Not only were they tall, but their height was also accentuated by the mohawks Frederick foolishly chose as the uniform hairstyle for the show. The tragic ensemble was highlighted by bright pink cloudy eyeshadow, that just didn’t fit the bill. I couldn’t understand what he was going for. The makeup clashed with the colors and overall feel of the show, failing to find a questionable mix between messy and polished couture.

The clothes, unfortunately, were just as disappointing. I had high hopes for the collection, as the first two dresses featured gorgeous floral lace. Technically they were very well done, the lace print was meticulously detailed, covering the entire body in extravagant form. The palette of rose and grey chosen though just didn’t please my eyes. This disappointing theme was consistent throughout the entire collection. The technical skill of the pattern making and the detailing of the draping was exquisite, but the looks fell short when analyzing the overall silhouette and color scheme. This was by far my biggest problem with the show, stopping it from being truly cohesive, and turning it into a big fat mess. I mean this dude has to be fucking blind. I couldn’t believe it. The short dresses were too short, and the long dresses were too long. The colors were poorly chosen. Outside of the rose and grey mixtures, were tones of childish blues, cheapo blacks, and absolutely hideous golds. Gold is the worst color of all time, and the hue Frederick chose made me want to fucking vomit.

Despite all my long list of problems with the show, the crowd loved it, proving I am clearly not Frederick’s target audience. The old school and traditional techniques he showcased did not inspire me, but for a mature audience, I can see the appeal. The silhouettes were not provocatively sexy, and the colors were muted enough to be professional. I guess I will stay in my lane and Frederick can stay in his. I wish him nothing but the best of luck, and I hope if he ever reads this, tucked in under his little puppy dog sheets, he can see there are no hard feelings.

Frederick, I love you,

Sleep well,

Sam

P.S.

Some heads on their cute fashion blogs caught me hiding behind my phone at the show. So, shout out my fashion sisters at:

Fashion360Mag DelightfullyDeligne