Ed note: the following post is by Dead Horse assistant Bess Levin, who thought Meryl Streep edited Vogue until last Friday... So here goes: I am a fashion neophyte. I know that it’s a crocodile and not an alligator, the unparalleled flattery that an empire waist can offer, and - thanks to our Soho office - the many faces of Kate Moss. But technically speaking, that’s it. It’s not that I’m not interested; it’s more a product of my beloved alma mater, and it being situated in the less-than-high-fashion locale of Western Massachusetts. Up there, it's a bit more parkas than Prada, if you catch my drift. Anyway, Faran told me the best way to learn how to swim was to dive in head first (actually, she said, "Wear a Missoni bikini, and don't forget the mascara"). So despite my aversion to death by drowning, I found myself at 7 World Trade Center last night, for the Miss Sixty show. The whole experience was better than I feared, due in no small part to the fact that all of the models had glitter on their eyes. If you learn one thing about me during our time together, it will be that I love glitter. Not the Mariah Carey movie, but the good stuff you snort in art class.
Glitter: too much is ever enough.
She's as excited as me for the show; I can feel it.
To some, this is a Mardi Gras float. To the Miss Sixty stylist, it's a shirt.
For best results, mix 3" denim + 36" leg
Facebook.com, for the very, very attractive.
Does the camera love her or am I just an extremely skilled photographer? Naturally I'm inclined toward the latter but everyone's entitled to her own opinion.
Make up by Polly Osmond, totally warranted smugness by Marc Jacobs.
Adrien Brody's scarf can't wait to see what's in store for this season.
In twenty minutes, Stam's going to make these clothes look good.
Like I was saying. Ed Note: Bess survived Jessica Stam; now anything is possible!