There are no cream-colored garments on display at the ENK Children's Club international kids' clothing exhibition when I visit the Javits Convention Center in Hell's Kitchen Tuesday morning, except in those booths whose entire stock is made up of rompers in varying shades of eggshell, ecru, and ivory.
What follows is a minute-by-minute timeline documenting the mental and physical collapse of 20 fashion models.
It is two nights ago—Wednesday, September 4, 2013—around 8:15 p.m. At this precise moment, you are enjoying yourself, conservatively, one thousand million times more than Kate Upton is. I know this, because I am in the same room as Kate Upton, and a man she does not know is bellowing at her to tell the hundreds of people seated around her what she would do if she had a penis. Kate Upton and I are at the 2013 Style Awards.
When I tell the young Marie Claire assistant seated next to me at the Reem Acra Fall 2013 fashion show that I write for Gawker, she becomes very excited because she attended Northwestern and sometimes Gawker writes about Northwestern.
The new Brooklyn Nets' Brooklynettes cheerleader uniforms were revealed this week, and they are bad. They are bad in ways you would expect, like a cropped warm up jacket. They are bad in surprising new ways, like "painted sequin leggings." Because they are complicated, multi-piece ensembles, they are bad in many ways. Because they mostly consist of pieces of fabric bearing the word BROOKLYN in capital letters, they are bad in ways that seem Brooklyn-specific, but are, in fact, universal.
My friend Chaia and I are sitting on a low brick wall on the patio of a club in the West Village. An inebriated young man, late twenties, early thirties, introduced himself to me a few seconds ago as a representative from "the office of Chris Christie." I have just asked the inebriated young man why a representative from the office of New Jersey's Republican governor is attending a Fashion Week party being thrown by OK! Magazine in the West Village on a Monday night.
Here is Mercedes-Benz FashionWeek as explained by a construction worker across the street from Lincoln Center yesterday, on whom I eavesdropped because I was too scared to talk to anyone else:
