Cartwheels and Catwalks

Nothing is as tell tale as a hopping out of a cab and walking into your building at 9 am with bedhead and a bow tie the size of your face sticking out of your jacket pocket. Fortunately for me, my doorman usually just smiles and shakes his head.

After enduring a long wait in an overcrowded club at last night's Betsey Show, this evening I committed a new plan for the night's runway shows: just shows, no parties.

I caught up on my readings, through on a tie, and headed to the tents for Andy The Anh and Joe Fresh. When Joe Mimran took his final bow and closed the evening, my eyes shot towards the exit. I quickly said goodbye to my boys in the photography pit, kissed the closest pretty girl on both cheeks and slipped out the door.

At home I slipped into my own personal fashion favourite: jersey cotton. I made a bowl of tomato soup and sat up in bed reading a preview of Sunday's New York Times Magazine. Life, is good.