Fashion Week Fuel

There’s nothing like New York Fashion Week.  Shoes. Clothes. Makeup. Hairdos.  I mean, I’m a girl.  I like this stuff.  Shoes, jewelry and purses are like little pieces of art.  I admire them not because I want them (even though I usually, really, really do) but because they are beautiful and spectacular, perfect little pieces of happiness.  They are art.  They are form following function, like happiness in the form of a handbag.  Ahhhhhh!
But, I must admit, at Fashion Week, most of these outfits, shoes, purses, jewelry and all that are attached to a female model who may or may not be of legal voting age and void of cellulite or fat anywhere for that matter. Some models look like they need to eat a couple of ham sandwiches.  They’re certainly not eating the green crystal-topped Fashion Week cupcakes for sale just down from Lincoln Center at New York’s famed Magnolia Bakery. As a fashion reporter, you can walk away from Fashion Week with a very reduced sense of self worth and a body image in the Lincoln Center toilet if you’re not careful.  It’s enough to make you want to eat two cupcakes, which is exactly what I did right before I unbuttoned the top notch on my jeans.

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