Kudos to Topshop for pulling the best front row I've seen all week--hell, all month. Demi Lovato (on crutches after a foot injury), Daisy Lowe, Pixie Geldof, One Direction's Louis Tomlinson and his girlfriend Eleanor Calder, Kate Bosworth and her husband, and Olivia Palermo all wedged in next to each other to take in the show, which opened with the totally-inescapable model of the moment Cara Delevingne. Like the front row, the collection offered an eclectic mix.

Ah, the Teen Choice Awards--where the attendees are (almost) all under the age of 25 (we feel old), the fashions are cutesy, and the awards are surfbo

After a year of working as a sales associate at a well-known, fast fashion chain in downtown New York, I've had my fair share of good and bad customers. A good, appreciative, understanding customer can make even the most stressful, cramped, miserable days of retail (which, let's face it, are many and close between) feel like a stroll through a well aerated, uncrowded, naturally lit park. Well, almost. I've had ladies shriek with delight when I've handed them the store's last pair of suspender tights that Rihanna wore. Or the flag-print hotpants Rihanna wore. Or anything Rihanna wore. Many customers have specifically requested my name following our interaction, so as to tell my higher-ups how helpful they found me (though sadly, I do not work on commission). One customer literally jumped up and down hugging me when I returned from an arduous journey to the stock room and back with last season's faded pink skinny jeans that were no longer on the sales floor. “I hope you're here next time I come,” she squealed, “I'm going to ask for you!” To which I replied, “For my sake, let's hope I'm not.” So what, you ask, has caused this level of embitterment?