It’s September, which means a lot of things. Football is back; the kiddos are back in school, after collectively regressing more than a decade in learning progress; and the cultural elite, chronically skinny, and unironically opulent are now bopping around at New York Fashion Week.
New York’s annual see-and-be-seen week is back, and the country’s most famous, fabulous, and feckless are in town to party. Oh, and to sit front row at some fashion shows while zoning out, wondering how they’re going to butter up their connect to the Miu Miu show so they can feast on the roughly seventh trend revival of ballet flats. That’s what Fashion Week is all about: setting the trends for the upcoming season and flaunting quid pro quo relationships with designers like Christian Siriano and Telfar Clemens.
Who can wear the most resplendent ensembles? Who can be seen at the most exclusive fetes? Who can make a sport out of attending the most events in one night? Oh, and darling, don’t bother bringing your eyebrows; unless they’re iridescent, visible eyebrows are faux pas this year.
Get ready for an onslaught of images of people shockingly more privileged and hotter than you. In the name of fashion, of course.
