Stuck

LET ME OUT !
I DON'T WANT TO BE A FASHION VICTIM !

There's something a little scary about Paris fashion week. This profusion of shows, people and parties is not normal. No normal person would be able to follow that crazy rythm. My days - even though they start around noon, which means I miss all the morning shows, but that's kind of their problem - my days feel like weeks to my poor little tired body and mind.
But thank god I am high...
High on fashion.
A famous fashion guru whose name I've already mentionned here (I don't want to write it down too often cause you might find out I'm kind of secretly in love with him) told me yesterday night that I have a "naive" view on fashion. I guess he is right.
I can love a monacal black velvet Lanvin dress enough to take 6 pictures of it in a row - blurry artistic picture though, have a look at this amazingness on style.com, it's the last passage.

(check out that this time I got a very decent seating !)

I love fashion enough to be excited to steal a picture of Carine Roitfeld running out of the show.
OK.
I mean Carine Roitfeld's back, running out of the show....
You cannot immagine how excited everybody was about the Lanvin défilé. It was a suspended moment, out of time, out of space, those splendid heavy strapped sharp black and shiny silhouettes walking for what seemed a second or ages on the wet black tarmac... Those exagerated gold jewels, those weapon shoes, those belted drapée. I felt shivers all over my arms. I really did. That only happened to me once before. Lanvin ss O9.
Anyways Lanvin was great. And unfortunately you can't tell what a moment of poetry was the Margiela show on this pic.
I can't find a close-up of the shoes on style.com... They were amazing half-stilettos, half-wedges.
I ended up with the show of a girl I really love, Andrea Crews. I love her amazon, jungle warrior, gothic princess, punk godess vision of woman.
After that, it was 22.30 and I was already starting to get drunk. Yeah, you know, the little glass of cherry liquor at Lanvin, the glass of red wine at Margiela, the Vitamin Water - vodka cocktail at Andrea Crews.... See, that is the secret of fashion people who are able to keep on partying after a whole full crazy day of shows. They get drunk. I got drunk.
So I kept on partying.
Went to this new very exclusive place in Saint Germain called le Montana. There were so many celebrities I would feel guilty to name them, like I am violating the founding rules of a secret club. Anyways most of them are french and you really don't care. That thing is totally crazy. It is a full open bar. Drunk drunk and drunker.
Everybody ended up at le Baron where a compact fashion crowd was queuing outside hoping to get into the night temple and stare for a little while at the models and editors dancing their tiring day away on the dance floor. I sneaked in immediatly. This place is a second home to me.
The atmosphere inside was wet and electric. It was 3.30 am and I realized that from that very minute, people would not be able to say anything coherent, and would not remember what happened from now on the next day. So I just left, without saying goodbye of course. Noone is supposed to know when you went to bed. Actually you're kind of supposed to never go to bed.
I escaped fashion for a few hours.
I am about to dive naïvely in it again.
It's 1 pm. My hungover brain is now high on Advil, and I have to rush for the Jeremy Scott show.
xxx