Take 80 front row seats, 160 fashionistas who think they belong there, throw in jet lag, killer heels and low sugar levels, and you've got high fashion drama. Viva speaks to the people working to ensure the catwalk remains catfight-free.
Generally, we Kiwis pride ourselves on our egalitarian nature, classless society and collective horror of social climbing. But this changes for one week in September. Here, as across the globe, fashion week is a time when egos are worn on sleeves, elbows are sharpened and "don't you know who I
am?" pouts are plastered to faces.
The strict hierarchy of the fashion week seating system is compellingly brutal: the prettiest, the richest, the most powerful and the most popular sit up front, while everyone else stares resentfully at the back of their heads. Your seat number is an assault on your ego, a critical evaluation of personal worth which transports delegates back to the day they were last to be picked for the netball team, when sporty teammates whined, "Ugh, not that slowcoach Anna Wintour".
It's this bonfire of egos which means the task of seat allocation requires the killer combination of a grasp of complex psycho-mathematics, in-depth understanding of industry mechanics and the smooth charm of a diplomat.
Front of House host - or, as he calls it, "smoocher aka diplomat" - Ricardo Simich has been in the business of planting fashionable bums on seats at NZFW since 2003, when, he admits, "it was a lot more laid-back".
Then came the age of the blogger.
"Suddenly everyone was claiming to have a fashion blog and making a bee-line for A-row. Yes, there are highly influential fashion blogs out there, but if it looks like you started your blog yesterday on Wordpress, don't expect to be up front."
The other sea change over the past decade has been the arrival of celebrity spectators on the fashion scene. Internationally, what had previously been trade shows - albeit glamorous ones - became star-studded events.
The contents of the front row - the Victoria Beckhams and Gwyneth Paltrows - became more pivotal and more photographed than what happened on the catwalk. The front row became the premier place to see and be seen, and Simich witnessed the resulting bunfight in New York, London and Milan.
"In London, people push, shove and yell at you if they think you're in their seat or aren't moving fast enough," he shudders.
"We don't have that, thank God. I'm not saying my job is easy, but I like to think we've retained a dignity and politeness which is long gone in Europe."
A relative dignity, perhaps. Murray Bevan of Showroom 22, who represents the likes of Twenty-seven Names and Hailwood, says, "It's a weird time. Friends I haven't seen for 12 months suddenly show up with cupcakes. My inbox fills with sleight-of-hand emails saying, 'Hey, my mum is coming up from Christchurch that weekend, any chance ... ?' Normally PR is all air-kisses and smiles, but in these two months, we have to be brutal and pragmatic."
As the challenges facing the organisers have mounted, so has their skill. Today, the system operates like this: delegates fill in a detailed online form and try to sound important. Simich and his boss Denise Cohen allocate seating based on a complex formula of who is most likely to deliver what to which designer. They present their seating plan to the designers and their PRs, who either tweak or tear it up.
Though Simich's role is confined strictly to the front two rows, Cohen takes care of the entire house. Her strategy? An unwavering business-minded outlook and sheer pragmatism.
"Our job is to deliver value to the designers. Sometimes a designer has done their selling already and wants to gain media coverage, so press and celeb seats are a priority. Sometimes they have sponsors to thank. Sometimes it's strictly about targeting a particular sector of the buying collective."
Cohen accepts that she might not win any popularity contests: "When you've got 15 minutes to push 1000 people through two tiny doors, placating them while manoeuvring them, I feel a bit like a UN negotiator or peacekeeper."
Simich is full of praise for Trelise Cooper's approach: a name on every seat.
"It's a huge job,"says Cooper, "and I'm sure we bruise a few egos, but I was horrified when I found out people were having fist-fights before my shows. We're trying to deliver a glamorous, fun experience, so anything that prevents arguments and tears is worth the effort."
Denise L'Estrange-Corbet of World says you have to be thick-skinned - or ask any drama-queens in Row B to leave.
"It's disappointing to imagine that someone would decide not to review your show favourably, simply because their nose is out of joint because of the seating. But it happens."
Internationally, too, designers are having to be increasingly savvy about what the front row says about them. In February Marc Jacobs purged his catwalk show's front row of the likes of Lady Gaga, Lindsay Lohan and Madonna, announcing his love affair with celebrity was over.
"It generated so much press, but at a certain point it was like, 'Did anybody actually watch the show?'"
So what does the future hold for the front row? If we've had the blogger and the celebrity, who will be next?
"Sponsors are now block-booking front row seats. Increasingly sponsors play a crucial role in supporting designers and they need to be treated accordingly," says Simich.
"And this year we're looking at around 10 per cent more international buyers than before, which is great news for designers."
So, Cohen and Simich have tweaked their front-row formula: what will it look like for NZFW 2010?
"A good measure of international and local buyers. A helping of media. A handful of big sponsors. And a sprinkling of celebrity on top."
One thing's for certain: there's always as much action off the catwalk as on. Watch this space ...
