So far, our sojourn here at Fashion Week has been fun and fascinating and, surprisingly, pretty organized. But no more. The Baby Phat show was a total mob scene literally: A fight broke out in the front rows while we were waiting for the show to start.
Admittedly, after standing in line in the lobby for what felt like about ten years (fine, it was probably more like 45 minutes), we felt a little violent, too. Especially when we realized we were going to be suffering the slings and arrows of Standing Room Only Seating.
1) Wow, we are in the front row and not to be dorks, but it completely rules!
2) Pre-med majors would do well to sit here for anatomy class; one sheer red Felder Felder dress in particular gave us a clear view of all the model's reproductive organs and their nearby friends.
3) Is that... that's not Bruce Dern in the second row, is it?
It's too bad there weren't many starlets at the Verrier show. They could have used the guidance.
Instead, we had to look at the adorable array of forties-style outfits and imagine how brilliantly Mischa Barton would pull off the short white shift bedecked with navy Swarovski crystals; how cool and chic Jennifer Aniston might be in one of the two-tone pleated pencil skirts (if she would just put down the cargo pants and basic black, please, for the LOVE OF GOD); and how youthful and breezy Kristen Bell could look in the penultimate dress to come down the runway, a light-blue chiffon number with crystals on the waist and straps.