I somehow, inadvertently was able to catch the encore presentation of this annual “fashion show”, and not surprisingly, was pretty much disappointed. Maybe it’s the fact that what I had hoped to be a fashion-forward platform for innovative, up-and coming black designers actually turns out to be a quasi-concert where video vixens replace actual models that results in my inevitable indifference, if not despondency. I mean, I get it—it’s the fusion of hip hop and fashion, a cultural melange of creative expression. However (and this is where they get it wrong), the predictable drone that is mainstream rap completely overshadows and, at times, dictates some of the fashions that stanky-legged down the runway Sunday night. Not to say that there weren’t some designers that managed to stand out: Korto Momolu’s breezy, ethnic-inspired dresses and jumpsuits, and Byron Lars’ sophistocated twist on timeless, classic pieces were dreamy and well executed. Even the fact that Joy Bryant was actually wearing makeup and not looking dowdy for a change was enough to keep me watching till the very end. But then there was the tacky, repetitive, done-to-death streetwear, rapper-sponsored labels and Baby Phat copycats that turned promise into mediocrity. This probably wouldn’t have happened had they let Kanye West get involved, as much as I hate to say it, since he seems to be such the fashion savant nowadays. There’s always next year…