The Glamour Grab

So tonight after stumbling out of my feature writing class I was pleasently suprised by the pink glow and schmoozy cocktail-bar music music coming from the Glass House fashion building at university.

I saw girls, lots of them. Then as the gyrating crowd parted like the Red Sea infront of Mozes, I saw the racks of clothes. Curosity won me over so I simultaneously did up my blazer and stubbed out my half smoked cigarette as I crossed the quadrant to obtain shelter amongst the glamouratti of QUT's fashion hub. I mean, who wouldn't want to escape the cold and rub shoulders with the university it girls and racks and racks of vintage clothing?

My suspicions were confirmed when I saw the sign "The Glamour Grab". This was one of those fashion swap events where you bring in old items from your wardrobe and exchange them for the same amount of items surrendered by others. It's free, and makes a lot of sense given the whole one-man's-trash-is-another-man's-treasure thing.

The journalist in me instantly whipped out my blackberry and started making notes on my surroundings:

• Glamouratti blindly clawing at racks.
• Makeshift change rooms - there is no dignity here. The clothes are off and the claws are out.
• Crazed fashionistas clinging to newly found garments like a hungry lioness protects her freshly killed prey.
• The vultures linger around the racks, suspiciously sipping their champagne then pouncing on that faux fur the brunette tossed aside.
• Assistants getting mauled as they bring in new racks of clothing for the crazed mob to assail.
• Come to these things more often!
  

I quickly found my secret mentor (she doesn't quite know it, yet) and started quizzing her on the event. She's probably one of the coolest women alive, her wealth of knowledge, her style and her generosity set her apart from others in the Brisbane fashion elite. As we were chatting about the organisers of the event, she spotted a woman holding a black and gold taffeta dress up to her body "NO!" snapped Kay, "Too tacky!" And with that, the bobbed woman humbly obliged, disposing of the offending item and disappearing into the feverish crowd.

It's this kind of influence that delivers me in constant awe of this woman. Nonchantly, Kay returned to me and we continued our conversation. After champagne flutes, some more general chit chat about my blog and the magazine we worked on together last year, we spotted an amazing vintage shift dress hanging on the rack. We quickly snatched it up and cooed over it like it was the rarest thing we'd ever seen. "Holy shit", breathed Kay as she demanded I try it on.

It was perfect and Kay insisted I get it, but the only issue was that I didn't bring anything to exchange. "Screw the exchange, you're getting that dress." And so with a few nods from Kay, the dress was mine and next thing I know I'm being snapped by the event photographers, wearing the newest edition to my wardrobe.

the hungry crowd at The Glamour Grab
my new dress

Sorry, this is a long post, I know. But I'm feeling fresh and creative. Oh, and excuse the crappy photos - my blackberry isn't exactly the best tool for portraying the dress. But if Patty Huntington can do it, then I can too!