As you probably know, because, let’s face it, your swag levels are extraordinarily high due to reading Four Pins, New York Fashion Week has come to a close. With that said, I’m not here to bore you with another synopsis of every show like other corny, over privileged, aspiring “fashion writer” who has the uncanny ability to put you to sleep quicker than a box of Ambien and a rigorous 20 minute Youjizz session. No, I’m a whole different kind of corny—the honest kind of corny. So honest in fact, I have the compelling urge to tell you what actually happens during this clusterfuck of a week that people plan outfits for 3 months in advance.
There’s an aura around Fashion Week, an aura which I completely understand, but truth be told, NYFW fucking blows, dude. It’s really not at all as glamorous as one would think. For serious, this one brand had the audacity to hold a SPARKLING WATER OPEN BAR. Even worse, they were pouring up generic store brand shit. In any case, I’m here to shed some light on the inconvenient truths about Fashion Week, the dark side, if you will, from my super-duper-extremely unique menswear blogging perspective. You know, to tell you the ins and outs, the real secrets, to finally deliver the ill coup de grace to all this hype that’s 100% completely and unnecessarily unfounded.
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