Let's get pretentious. It's Fashion Week.

Talk to any fashion insider - a Vogue photographer or a celebrity fashion stylist and the first thing they let you know is that they hate fashion. They roll their eyes, make their best I-am-bored-and-exhausted facial expression and declare that fashion week sucks. They toss their fashion show tickets into trash and RSVP “No” to town’s hottest afterparties. They ignore fashion week. Fucking i g n o r e it.

They’ll go to a fashion show, but preferably to the one in Paris and only if personally invited by their friend Marc. You have to be pretty amazing to have the privilege to ignore all this but, Christ, would you really want to be this jaded..?

...To be fair all this fashion week commotion can kill you. You almost have to be jaded to get though it and not fall malnourished, alcohol poisoned and sick.

We here choose our parties wisely. The Daily Party at Tenjune was fun. It felt like half my blogroll was there (how fucking geeky is that?!): Imaginary Socialite (of course), Sartorialist with his awesome new Cannon, Face Hunter in his cool white shoes with an ultra cool chick in tow. Well and Irina Lazareanu - the big deal...

Yo. When am I getting my party pics? huh??? Huh??!! Off into the night again -- see ya.