New York Fashion Week has started. Looking forward to all the online news and all the pictures of gorgeous clothing. This time I feel so removed from that world it seems almost a dream that I was ever at those shows, that I once even sat in a front row. I don't envy that world, that work. The twice a year comes way too quickly, and all your soul cries and dies each time. (Really).

I'm happy to observe, covet, and consume. That's the magic of fashion really - confections for the heart's desire. Sense in things. Comfort in texture. Lots of pretty. Absolutely and indulgently vain. No apologies for being so.


Anyways this morning I'm wedged between two dozing commuters and am liking the term "sleeping giant."

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