Saturday, February 03, 2007

This Year At Fashion Week, They Are Handing Out Diet Pills At The Side Entrance. We're Not Even Kidding.

Well, it's Fashion Week time again, and we're posting this from the pink-carpeted Moet & Chandon lounge in the tents. You may think our lives are not hard, but they don't start serving champers until after 7. It's practically unendurable!

We don't get invited to all the fabulous shows, nor do we feel we deserve to be. We're wearing J.Crew, for God's sake. But we have seen some, starting with the Perry Ellis show yesterday. Remember Perry Ellis? You'd go to Macy's in your teen years to shop with your mom, you'd see the Perry Ellis section, the clothes would look cool from afar, and then when you got closer you realized that they were not actually wearable by anyone, even the store mannequins?

That's sort of how the show was. Even the models, hot as they were, didn't quite fit into the drab clothes. But there was one model, Paco (pictured above - though we're not 100% confident that this is his name), who nearly sent us into a cardiac aneurism. We think our fashion editor friend Colin B. said it best: "I could watch Paco walk away from me all day long."

When people say that to us, it's never a compliment.

1 comment:

MyMyMichl said...

Don't knock Perry, please.

I knew Perry Ellis when we played bridge at FIre Island years ago; that was when my couturier was Levi-Straus. One day he decided my clothes were too tight, and suggested I should stop at his salon to get a few things he thought would better suit my then hot, tight little bod. The duds were too loose, or so I thought; I swam in them. Then I realized how good it felt to be embraced by those wonderful garments: those lush fabrics. Hell, I could always undress when body mattered. I still wear them, still feel and look great when I do.