I’m not at a sports bar. I’m not eating buffalo wings. It’s a Tuesday night and there are no sports to watch (unless you count dance moms, which I’m DVRing). So I’ve given in and I am AT FASHION WEEK, LIVE!! And I have news for you–it’s a shit show.
No, really. We’re outside Betsey Johnson and this place is out of control.
It’s Sunday in September. I’ve just opened a beer and sat down with a giant pile of buffalo wings, which can only mean one thing…It must be Fashion Week. Yup, Fashionista convinced a sports writer in deep Olympics withdraw to take Fashion Week to the next level in celebration of competition, achievement and obviously–judgment. We’ve developed a sophisticated scoring system and will be handing down scores to some of the top shows at NYFW based on atmosphere, difficulty and execution. Fashion is no business for second place…and there can only be one winner.
