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Just when we got over those damn Republicans, Fashion Week begins and we're back to having terrible nightmares. This time, however, it's the laxative-laced cocaine and emaciated insect girls that leave us hiding in fear. We're thus reminded why it's better to stay indoors for the next week:

Fashion Week is overrated. There I said it. It looks pretty on the outside - with those big white tents, ads for pricey bubbly and Manolo shod gorgeous stick figures trekking up the steps to flash their invitations, but, like many pretty people you know, it's a let down when you get inside. Unless your business card says Vogue or your daddy's credit card says Hilton - you spend most of your time in lines. Imagine velvet ropes outside a club for a party you were invited to, but the host is going to show up "whenever." Most designers are over an hour late to their own shows. So there we are - non-Conde Nasties - standing in line, calves burning from our 3 inch heels and when they finally open the doors everyone races in to grab a seat (usually overbooked) and then watch what turns out to be 15 minutes of anorexic 15 year olds in oversized shoes, toes stuffed with tissue paper, walking up and down a plank to house music. If you're lucky they trip.

And this shit is supposed to help us decide what to wear? Um, got it.
Fashion Week Reality [SheFinds]
[Image via Style.com]