The art of being a model man in a material world

Colin Mathura-Jeffree says Fashion Week is as much about being seen as seeing. Photo / Janna Dixon

It's Tuesday evening at Fashion Week and Colin Mathura-Jeffree is late.

The venue, a warehouse smelling of pine disinfectant and a cocktail of perfumes, is close to logistical breaking point.

Invite-only punters are arriving for the Coca Cola Little Black Dress show and a queue stretches out of the door and 60m down Halsey St.

Promo girls in black dresses offer sponsors beverages. The beverage offered, given the calorie-counting inherent in this industry, is Diet.

Jason Gunn queued for almost an hour to get his ticket, but Mathura-Jeffree skips the line entirely and waltzes into the bar with Mrs World New Zealand 2009 on one arm and front-row tickets in the other hand.

Mathura-Jeffree, model, critic and creature of the industry, is fashionably late.

He seems prone to weekly reinvention and has legions of lovers and haters. And this is just his hair.

With impossibly high cheekbones and polished stubble, the man looks like a cross between a Bollywood starlet and Russell Brand.

While Mathura-Jeffree's career as a model and dedicated follower of fashion has spanned more than a decade, he appeared to spring fully formed into the public consciousness this year as a judge on TV3's New Zealand's Next Top Model.

Before television, he was a model and catwalked his way through India and Europe.

And since? His star has gone supernova. Publisher Random House has approached him to write a style guide and his presence has become almost a prerequisite to any event the fashion industry holds.

He has even achieved enough profile to rate the attentions of Metro magazine - albeit in its "worst dressed" list.

While he expects to appear in another season of Next Top Model late next year, he's also letting himself be courted by TV3's rivals. "They wanted to talk about fashion," he says of a recent meeting with TVNZ. "They're interested in me. Everyone is interested in me."

Last year, Fashion Week kicked off on September 15, the same day that investment bank Lehman Brothers collapsed and triggered the start of a global economic collapse not seen since the Great Depression.

Herald columnist Noelle McCarthy, a veteran of Fashion Week, says the economy has squeezed the industry.

"It's noticeably smaller than previous years - and not just the goodie bags. You can almost smell the desperation." But the bubble of fashion, at least from Mathura-Jeffree's perspective, remains unburst. "I'm delighted to know that through the recession, fashion is flourishing."

Despite not attending many shows, no fewer than seven goodie bags and plenty of free samples have piled up on his doorstep. "It's always wonderful being spoiled."

And when Mathura-Jeffree was made aware of the economic turmoil, he conducted his own brand of fiscal stimulus - spending money on clothes like there's no tomorrow. "Is it one of those 'let-them-eat-cake' moments? But I've splashed out because I know it would help the industry. Every cent counts."

And if you think the fashion industry is beginning to sound a little self-absorbed, Mathura-Jeffree says you'd be right. "It sounds a little bit narcissistic, and it is. It has to be. To admire other people, you've first got to admire yourself."

But, for the duration of the Little Black Dress show at least, admiration drifts from Mathura-Jeffree to garments. The show gives eight designers three opportunities each to offer their take on the little black dress.

The designs range from an Alpha 60 creation perfect for a Black Widow - resembling a funeral shroud from the front and a low-cut, femme-fatale cocktail outfit from the rear - to a bondage-shoe and dress ensemble from Marnie Skillings that one fashion writer says makes the models resemble Nazis.

And, less than 20 minutes after it started, the show is over. For one non-fashion-industry celebrity the long wait - almost an hour and a half - wasn't quite worth it. Mathura-Jeffree never noticed the wait. After the show at the on-site Cutting Room bar, the model-cum-critic holds court.

He shares air-kisses with Petra Bagust, tells jokes to a Samoan advertising executive ("What's a dog with a waggly tail? A happy meal!"), and holds forth on his opinions of the collection.

"The black dress is the must-have of any woman's wardrobe," he begins.

"Anyone wearing such an outfit is an apex predator. It must provoke a reaction - in a man," he says.

Mathura-Jeffree talks to a woman about the outfits on display and quickly turns from cheerleader to critic.

"Did you see anything you could wear?" he asks.

"No. Because I'm too fat for those dresses."

The model launches into a pop-psychology lecture on the importance of loving your body, while striving for betterment.

"You have to Own The Now, and be in transition to The Next Thing," he says, before adding: "Besides, you're not that bad-looking."

A back-handed compliment? Mathura-Jeffree disagrees: "No. It's honest."

And tonight doesn't end down at the Viaduct for Mathura-Jeffree, far from it. At 7.11am on Wednesday morning he posts on Facebook: "I'm having bubbles and cocktails ... come find."

He doesn't return to Fashion Week until late afternoon.

"It was just a wild night," he says.

And when Mathura-Jeffree returns to ground zero, he is found in the VIP room availing himself of free grooming. He gets his hair and makeup done every day while the week is running. "It's like going to the Oscars. You're going to be seen as well as see," he says.

He asks for eyeliner and bronzer and drinks a sweet concoction with a Malibu rum base while being made up. "I demanded a manly drink, because I'm a manly man."

And, rather surprisingly given his immersion in the world of fashion, he has the same vague-yet-trusting relationship with his hairdresser that can be found in salons up and down the country.

"How do you want to do it?" the hairdresser asks.

"Just a bit more ..."

"... Grunt?"

"Yeah."

"You want it full-on, or messy?"

"A cross between both."

The result: a Farrah Fawcett. The 'do is in preparation for his second appearance at a catwalk show at Fashion Week, which has entered day three.

Tonight is billed as a highlight: Trelise Cooper. Mathura-Jeffree is effusive: "Trelise Cooper is an icon. I worked with her on Top Model, and to hear her critiques and her honesty - we got on so well, a house on fire.

"Knowing her, and knowing the people who wear her clothes, we would all do well to have a piece of Trelise in our wardrobes."

The show is suitably glam. Mathura-Jeffree is again in the front row, watching a succession of pastel and Astroturf-green garments saunter down the runway. Military-style jackets, inspired by the uniforms of naval captains and colonial-era British redcoats, are paired with patterned fishnet stockings.

Broadcast personality Maggie Barry says afterwards: "There was something old, something new. There were many garments I wouldn't wear, but I'm impressed with the details."

She's been wearing Trelise for the better part of two decades and says she would happily wear about a dozen outfits. "Her stuff makes you feel good wearing them."

Later, at his ubiquitous post at the bar, Mathura-Jeffree declines a beer ("it bloats you"), and opts for sauvignon. He compliments Trelise. "I loved it. To me, militarist structure is wonderful, and then you had the romance as well - that's cheeky, that's Trelise."

The militarist line on the catwalk - including a coat worn by Next Top Model winner Christobelle Grierson-Ryrie, sparks the fashion critic into discussing his decidedly odd inspiration for menswear: the military outfits of the Third Reich.

"Nazi German uniforms, now that's men's fashion," he says. "They were the shame of the world, except in fashion. The shapes and designs are classic and well-tailored, beautiful - and almost certainly designed by a homosexual."

Gay men and fashion have been inseparable, and it's a cliche on which Mathura-Jeffree is keen to elaborate: "Gay men have more of an orientation towards flamboyance and will always have an eye for the beautiful. Straight men tend to be inexpressive."

Ricardo Simich, man about town and Fashion Week publicist, interrupts to thank Mathura-Jeffree for "looking after our VIPs". Mathura-Jeffree says he isn't an elitist.

"Everyone is a VIP - everyone is here to support the industry." But, echoing Animal Farm, it appears some Fashion Week patrons are more equal than others. "Then there are VVIPs."

Before Mathura-Jeffree became one of these "VVIPs" he was an Anglo-Indian boy from Mt Albert who went to Auckland University.

He studied anthropology, psychology and Eastern religions and says it was on campus that he was talent-spotted as a model - " it may have even been on the first day."

He left study to tread the catwalk and never graduated - although he sees some similarities between his current profession and his yearning to be a paleontologist.

"It was always with boney things, that's never changed."