"décroisez vos jambes!"

As the house lights went down today on the Imperial Salon of the Westin
Vendôme Hotel, a voice from the pit barked in the still opalescent darkness : "Décroisez vos jambes!" (Uncross your legs!)
No one obliged to the photographer's ill-mannered request to clear the frame,
our momma did, after all, teach us better than that.
I wish I could Sarah Mower a proper review of the Valentin Yudashkin show
I was kindly invited to, but as soon as Snejana Onopka appeared I was left with as
much self-control as a 12 year old at a Justin Bieber fragrance launch.
And yes, she was, as it is often told, martyr thin and all that, but what
struck me the most was the utterly celestial and heart wrenching sadness she
wore on her face. In a piteous attempt to pull myself together, I tried to
tune out the infection refrain resonating in my head (Teenage Dream) and
wondered how someone that beautiful could ever look so sad.



I smiled thinking this shitty shitty industry is probably going to kill us all.