The first day of New York Fashion Week arrived on Wednesday with its usual hustle, bustle, and not-so-slight air of pretention. Running late as always, I rushed to Bryant Park, invite in hand, and even before reaching the Pearly Gates (the Tent’s front steps), I could already see the streets crowding with waifish girls in dark designer shades and handbags so large they should need their own ticket for admittance.
I followed a lovely pair of patent booties inside and realized I must have stumbled upon the patent parade. Everywhere I turned there were patent purses, patent ballets, patent cuff bracelets…. at one point I couldn't tell if the camera flashes were glaring off of the fashionistas’ headbands or the Mercedes Benz sitting by the lobby’s entrance.
After waiting in line for about a half hour past the show's original start time, they finally let us in to take our seats, (of course, I was feeling only slightly dejected that I did not actually have a seat, my ticket was just for “standing”). My sad little climb up to the top row was made better when I noticed that none of the seated guests had gift bags either, (I hate when a show doesn’t do gift bags, why do they think people go in the first place? Swag.)
The show was good if not a little bit of a tease seeing all of these beautiful clothes for spring while our summer has just come to an end. Afterwards, I made my way down the rows so that I could just take a few quick steps on the white runway, and maybe catch a glimpse of a celeb or two. I didn’t see any, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t there. As I stood for a second watching the fashion week volunteers quickly clean up before the next show, a flustered guy ran by yelling, “Where is my security for Ashlee Simpson?!”