This week, I will be filing reports from the tents of Fashion Week. For those of you who have no clue what I am talking about, Fashion Week NYC is the week where designers who can get someone to front them $50,000 bucks display their collections for the next season. It seems like every city has a fashion week (LA, Miami, Milan, Paris) but New York continues to be a favorite for fashionistas and fashion lovers alike.
At Fashion Week, fashion is secondary to the schmoozing. The shows only lasts like 15 minutes, so there has to be another reason why people flock to the tents. It is about seeing and being seen. It is about having a seat versus standing in crowded aisles. It is about who is in the front row versus who didn’t score an invite. It is about collecting goodie bags (which to be honest is the main reason why I go to fashion week, besides the fashion) versus figuring out where to store the free WWD they shove in your face.
So today was the first day of the shows and I’m already tired. I had to make a major decision between attending the Heart Truth Show with Sheryl Crow, Venus Williams, and the gang, versus the A la Disposition Show at a nightclub a couple of steps away from the tents. I choose A la Disposition, not necessarily because I liked the designs (20’s glamour meets 1950’s menswear—like Claudette Colbert’s and Jimmy Stewart’s Love Child), but because we had seating assignments. I just couldn’t stand anymore—not even for Sheryl.
After A la Disposition, I headed back to the tents, where after downing two rum drinks from the Bermuda tourism both, I proceeded to break the number one rule of fashion week, don’t stare at the celebs, by glaring at Ms. J from America’s Top Model. Just as I was about to walk up to him and ask if he could teach me to walk in a pair 3 1/2 Manolos, the drinks wore off and I became sleepy. Enough Fashion Week for today . . .