Don’t let the fringe fool you. It was a balmy 23 degrees in NYC yesterday and we all froze our asses off on the first day of Fashion Week The idiot in me was inclined to say, “But does it really matter?” as I was getting ready in a cozy 72 degree hotel room while staring at this suede fringe mini skirt I had my heart set on wearing. Uh, yea. It does matter. Because when you’re waiting for a cab for longer than 2 minutes your mind goes places it never should. Like… I wonder if that large man stranger will let me take shelter under his Canada Goose coat. Or, those cops will probably be ok if I just sit in their car and wait for my Uber. At some point, I snapped out of it and chose freedom over being detained, albeit still freezing. Lesson? Well, pants and maybe I should consider enjoying Spring fashions more.
Just kidding that will literally never happen.
See… in February, a designer debuts looks that will be available for distribution the following season, meaning Fall. Evidently, patience is a virtue and good things take time and yada yada. So, in February we see Fall/Winter 2016 looks. And in September you see Spring/Summer looks for the following season. This September we’ll be shown looks for Spring/Summer 2017. Get it? It’s like those 2018 cars that are released in 2016. I’m sure there’s a point but WTF. Same story here.
I’m a fan of neutrals and layers and winter and anything that screams it’s below 40 degrees. I just am. I hate the sun and merriment and florals and sweating. So February Fashion Week is my jam. I get to wear winter clothes while previewing winter clothes at shows. Win win. Until it’s 23 degrees with a wind chill of 6. That’s not a good look on anyone.
Full recaps will be coming next week but to hold you over, yesterday went a little something like this: I have a cold. It’s cold. Bus. Snacks. The grandest hotel room in the history of life. Marissa Webb. Died. Cold. Cab.
Mexican. Mozzarella sticks. Friends. Cheetos. Bed. I have a cold.
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