Trying to get ready to head to the shows this morning, I tore pretty much every item of clothing I own out of the closet and piled it on the bed (um…Kendrick? When you get home, just…close your eyes). And this is what I ended up with: a Forever 21 black minidress, a Millau hole-y cardigan (Liz’s entry to the Ugliest Clothing Contest at Meghan’s Clothing Swap!), Juno heels (which I was interviewed about no less than four times this morning), and a whole bunch of jewelry. Not very exciting, I know…but the idea of getting dressed for Fashion Week just makes me want to curl up in bed and go back to sleep.

I’m just not particularly comfortable in this world (by which I mean the shows themselves…not the parties – love the parties!). I don’t want to be pushy, don’t want to ask for better seats, don’t want to cheek-kiss…well…anyone, really. If I’m being interviewed or interviewing people (as I’m doing later on this afternoon), that’s one thing, but going just to check out the scene is very not my thing. It should tell you something that the part of the day that has excited me the most thus far has been dreaming about what I’m going to put in the super cute ceramic planter that I got in the Ports 1961 gift bag.