Fashionably challenged

This is Fashion Week in New York when all the designers present their spring collection, even before the first leaf has turned red. This event is supposed to help people like myself figure out what will be hot in 6 months time. But for many New Yorkers, it is really a label paradise. Fashion statements are only located south of Union Square in the hip and artsy areas where those who can afford it, dress like fashion stars. This is why I live on the Upper East Side.

Parties are thrown at the hottest clubs and restaurants throughout the city by the financially enhanced and attended by the very tall and leggy models who strut themselves on the catwalks in Bryant Park. Wednesday, the owner of Black Book Magazine threw a party at MEGU in Tribeca. The entire restaurant was filled with fashion types and models tall enough to stand in for WNBA players. That and the fact I just came from a work event made me feel the ugly-duckling/fashion-challenged dork that I appeared to be. Not to mention, my usually well-kempt hair had been drenched not once, but twice during the downpour from the remnants of Hurricane Frances, leaving it straggly with baby curls emerging from the top straight layers. I spent a good part of the evening trying to just finger brush my hair into some semblance of haute coiffure.

Meanwhile, while my fingers caught on knots, platters of kobe beef and fried asparagus flew by and my friend, Keith, scooped up a bunch. He befriended the wait-staff who knew what he wanted and always made several bee-lines straight to him. We also had many glasses of chardonnay come our way as we ogled the beautiful lovelies in the restaurant. So many pretty people, and so many business types attempting to land a few fashionistas. My friend, Merry, bumped into her friend, Thierry, who's been on a European island, partying away all summer. Merry is always fashion forward and people notice her. "People person" was a phrase inspired by her.

As the evening wound down around midnight and people began filing out to Paris Hilton's shindig uptown, we got our umbrellas and began to trudge out through the herd of New York's social creme de la creme as more throngs of people filed in. The rain, by this point, had stopped and my hair looked a bit ratty still. Oh joy. We wander toward taxis going in various directions to get ourselves home. This fashion victim managed to get herself home and think about why she hadn't worn her new fall Barbara Feinman mauve cloche? As a New Yorker, fashion is one of the necessities for survival and that cloche is probably the most stylish thing I own for this season. Well, I do have an entire fall to make up for my Wednesday failure and prove to myself that I am a New Yorker still. I've got boots to replace, heels to purchase, and new pants and skirts to integrate into my wardrobe. Ah New York, you're still my home...

Listening to: Garden State Soundtrack featuring Coldplay, Simon and Garfunkel, Frou Frou, Colin Hay, The Shins, Nick Drake.