Fashion Week

Get this: I went to a real fashion show. Like, the giant tent in Bryant Park set up for Fashion Week, where all the spring collections are shown and then reported on around the world. The full on catwalk.

I shall break it down for you.

There was a crowd of gawkers, tourists, police outside when I arrived. I found my friends, and we tried to go inside (we were on the list!). We were told there was no list. Our designer friend had to come outside and get us and bring us past the red ropes. Inside, there was your basic fashion tailgate party going on: swag booths and ladies handing out evian and chocolate biscuits and a mercedes in the corner and a free cocktail bar. There was also a line forming to get past the lobby and into the actual fashion show area, but it never actually moved forward, only thinned, as people were rescued out of it by their fashion insiders, as we eventually were.

They say the show starts at seven, but it really starts 45 minutes later, giving people time to mingle and take their seats (and anticipate!), and every once in a while, a flurry of paparazzi flash bulbs will go off when one famous person sashays over and greets another. When the show starts, the room goes dark, the catwalk erupts with white light, and techno music comes blasting over the PA. The models, who really are breastlessly thin, walk leaning backwards at a 45 degree angle. You don't know this, dear reader, because you only ever see them from the front, but I can assure you, it was all we talked about afterwards.



And now, I would like to read to you from the list of models:
Kim
Behati
Chanel
Georgina
Han
Bruna
Flavia
Morgane
Zuzana G.
Eugenia
Tokumbo
Vika
Lais