A visit to Ports 1961
By Nadine Kam
Ivanka Trump, left, in the front row at the Ports 1961
Spring/Summer 2008 show at Bryant Park Sept. 7.
Made an early stop this morning at the Ports 1961 Spring/Summer 2008 fashion show in the Bryant Park Salon, a smaller offshoot to the right of the “Tent,” though both venues are in the same tent. There always seems to be a standing room only crowd about the same size as the seated crowd.
Sitting in the front row was Ivanka Trump, daughter of The Donald and Ivana, dressed in a simple cream sheath with a black belt. Her straight blonde hair hadn’t been “done.” I mean, it was very natural and fringy at the ends. Nothing wrong with that except that here, everyone’s hair is perfect. Even if it looks messy, you can bet that it’s been styled that way. Ivanka must be seriously busy. Her hair looked line mine on a normal day, brushed through, no gel, no mousse, no wax, no spray, no nothing. OK, maybe sometimes I use Jonathan’s Dirt for a little texture. It’s pretty good because it’s not sticky or gunky and it smells good. In between shows on Wednesday, I actually went to the nearby Jean Louis David salon to get my hair cut because it was pretty raggy compared to the fashionistas. Away went the bangs! I told one stylist I only get my hair cut once or twice a year. He was like, “Oh, come on, everyone has time to cut their hair.” Honestly, no I don’t, but I did have some time for this little fashion emergency.
I think Ivanka’s pretty cool because she’s not a spoiled brat as you might expect her to be, considering who her parents are. She was studiously eyeing the garments and taking notes. Hmmm, she does have her own jewelry line with a boutique on Madison Avenue, so it’s not much of stretch for her to be considering a clothing line.
The photo gallery in the tents is set up on risers, much like
a Japanese Girl’s Day doll display. Each videographer
is allotted a small space, below, measuring about 24-by-24 inches.
Photographers get body space.

Ports 1961 creative director Tia Cibani is an up-and-comer who brings a global village perspective to her work. Just this week one of the many fashion magazines I’ve been reading that black models are disappearing from the runways, but apparently, they were all at this show. Almost all the models were black. A couple were Asian. Garments were inspired by the dress of Eastern African women, but the aesthetic was thoroughly modern, merging comfort and modern luxury. Quite a feat. She sent out beautiful tunics, dresses and separates that would be perfect for Hawaii, runway smart, but realway practical. Quite a feat.
Well, gotta run. Off to a Damien Rice concert at Madison Square Garden and Prada party with the Hours and Damien Hirst.












September 7th, 2007 at 4:38 pm
DAMIEN RICE?!?!!
*sigh*
oh– and i was going to say. please don’t not bring back all the mags! can’t you like send those for free media mail anyway? i dunno. but i know your suitcases will be a bit overflowing so explore that !
September 7th, 2007 at 9:03 pm
That’s your secret? Jonathan’s Dirt? I’m on it! I need some texture myself. So don’t forget to include a pix of you and your new ‘do when you post those fashion-on-the-street shots!
September 8th, 2007 at 4:02 pm
Forget Cathy Horyn, we got you! Excellent island-eye coverage. Thanks Nadine. Go check out Perilla, “Top Chef” winner Harold Dieterle’s new place (9 Jones St., btw. West 4 and Bleecker Sts.) Tell me how it is! And for old time sake: Wallsé in West Village (see if Julian Schnabel is sitting in the back room).
September 8th, 2007 at 5:29 pm
I thought of going there. It’s a hotspot so I don’t know if I can get in at this point. Weird but I can only do one thing at a time here. While going to the shows I can only eat on the run so haven’t made any restaurant plans save for lunch at the Modern next week. But I’ll definitely try. I heard it’s really good!
September 8th, 2007 at 5:35 pm
Hey, I’ve been trying to read them and throw them out, and I’ve torn out some pages, but if you want The Dailys I have and the WWD daily supplements they’re yours.