It comes to Bryant Park bringing tents and fashion lingo. It goes leaving behind the hangover of something better. And once again, I'm reminded that I have no real ties to the fashion industry. During this week, I allow myself to indulge in extravagance, objectification, beauty. Pretension is rampant. And it’s ok, you know. Models are primped, pricked, prepped (again and again) as they manage to play solitaire, snack (yes, I realized a while back that they do eat), and sleep. I would like to live in a FashionShowBackstage everyday of the year... maybe a Lanvin, Rodarte, Chloé backstage show. It’s the thing. All the snapshots I’ve seen consist of total model pampering—facials, manicures & pedicures,
maquiller. I want. I want it. And now that it’s over, I’ve come back down to reality. Like, a reality where one can’t actually wear two different shoes and look chic, dog fur and look sexy, a rat’s nest of kinks & curls without looking crazy.
I searched the interweb for images of my top five faves from the week. I only found two that will do. They are:
Orange lipstick (I so ran out and got some),
Ballerina buns (sexy and neck elongating). The others are:
Sky mile heels (it’s all about being able to reach the clouds),
Red accessories (usually worn with neutrals or black), and
The boyfriend jacket (not to be confused with the
bf blazer, the
bf jacket is puffy and worn with a pretty, pretty dress).
I searched the interweb for images of my top five faves from the week. I only found two that will do. They are: Orange lipstick (I so ran out and got some), Ballerina buns (sexy and neck elongating). The others are: Sky mile heels (it’s all about being able to reach the clouds), Red accessories (usually worn with neutrals or black), and The boyfriend jacket (not to be confused with the bf blazer, the bf jacket is puffy and worn with a pretty, pretty dress).
