I love New York Fashion Week just as much as the next person. Sure, there's plenty of "Ooo" and "Ahhh" moments of swooning where I wish I was a size zero Brazilian teen model strutting down the runway like a newly-birthed foal, but -- if I'm going to be completely honest -- I like the misses way more than when the designers hit the mark. I can't get enough of the outfits that look like vaginas (seriously, I blogged about it
here) or dresses that mimic Mr. Snuffleupagus from
Sesame Street. I want to clap like a seal waiting for a fish at the aquarium when outfits are so horrendous that I can't remember if I I'm looking at stills from Style.com or
Zoolander.
Maybe that's the mean girl in me. Or maybe it's my proximity to New York City (and hey, Jersey City's got some well-dressed men and women as well), but I really can't get enough of the following:
Above we have two highlights from Cynthia Rowley: On the left, an embarrassing walk of shame where you steal a gentleman's overcoat to try to disguise the previous night's sequined evening dress and - on the right - an outfit I wore in the 80's for my elementary school picture day. Added bonus: my hair was styled the same way too.
Above we have highlights from Jason Wu: On the left, a feather chastity belt that hints at what lies underneath and - on the right - an example of stem cell research where a model's arms have been replaced with endangered owl claws.
Above we have highlights form Marc Jacobs: Where to start? I dated a grungy dude in the 90s who thought giant fur hats were fashionable. Combined with the leprechaun shoes, granny knits and overall layering overkill, this collection brings on a bad case of PTSD.
