The man, the myth, the legend: Tim Blanks; Photo credit: men.style.com

I credit my older sister, in part, for pointing me toward the wilds of fashion. This is the same sister who as a 13-year-old would write me letters about her occasional trips to Los Angeles, where she would eat at Georgia (Denzel Washington’s erstwhile restaurant venture) and shop at the Beverly Center—the pinnacle of consumer greatness for any teenager, be it a decade ago or today. “Georgia was popping off back then!” she said in defense when I reminded her of her ’90s romps through L.A.

On weekends, we’d forgo Saturday morning cartoons to watch back-to-back showings of Videofashion Weekly! and Fashion File, which introduced me to the schizoid backstage world of runway shows and the woman I still refer to as my “spirit model,” Christy Turlington. The two of us would lounge around in our pajamas, eating our grandmother’s thin, practically deep-fried pancakes while reviewing the latest collections and engaging in pseudo-intellectual shop talk about what the designers were putting out that season.

Fashion File trumped viewings of Pepper Ann, which made me feel infinitely cooler than my tween classmates, even though I was chubby and awkward and soon to be brace-ridden. Endearing, if a little austere, host Tim Blanks was our lifeline to Gianni Versace’s skintight bodysuits, Isaac Mizrahi at the height of his career, Tom Ford when he made Gucci synonymous with sex, and even long-lost casual wear king Todd Oldham—remember Todd Oldham?! For a sartorially-minded young thing, there was nothing like Fashion File, no one like our man Tim, no better way—save for reading Vogue—for a girl living in the black hole of suburbia to connect with a world far removed from a horribly bucolic quotidian. There were cows in my hometown, so I’m calling that bucolic.

The illustrious Mr. Blanks is no longer affiliated with Fashion File, and when I, on a whim, decided to see what had become of the show since his departure I came across one hell of a hot mess. Maybe it’s because I’m perpetually nostalgic these days (and I’m only 25, for Chrissake), but the show is a specter of what I remember it being as a teen. It delivers fashion coverage produced in the same vein as EXTRA. In a word, blah. There is an interesting segment on “A Day in the Life of Coco Rocha” on the homepage, but I think its appeal owes more to its jig-dancing subject than the way it was put together. And there’s of course no replacing Blanks, whose name I recently saw grace a few Runway Reviews during Style.com’s coverage of London Fashion Week. Good to know he’s still out there rubbing shoulders with Amazonian models and eccentric designers.*

I found a clip from Fashion File’s heyday on YouTube. Watch and be reminded of the show’s former greatness.

*Update: Most of this paragraph should have been written in the past tense. I’ve since discovered that the show was canceled in early 2009 and that Blanks’ replacement was sourced from a reality show titled Fashion File Host Hunt. ‘Nuff said.