Look, I’m trying to enjoy fashion week this year, and if that means eating all the chocolate French Toast at Norma’s that’s what I’m going to do.
Hah. No. Not really. I had a melon bowl full of yogurt there, though, so that was pretty nice.
I see I’m really kicking off this “fashion coverage” pretty strong. I do tend to find Fashion Week unbelievably stressful, and I really try to avoid all of it as much as humanly possible. I’d almost always rather hide in my apartment and eat French Toast. I will go to maybe one show this NYFW, and I will do so with great trepidation, because the numerous lines and cold institutional environment always makes me feel like I’m waiting in an airport. The only difference is that it’s an airport in the circle of Hell where everyone in the lines shouts about how important they are into their cell phones, and there are no chairs to sit in while you wait.
But, remarkably, it hasn’t been so bad, so far! After one day! It’s actually been pretty fun!
I went home at the end of the day and thought “that was a really good day”. Christ, I am going to jinx this. To hell with it. COME AT ME GOD, I CAN TAKE IT.
Look, I’ll talk about things related to fashion, now. Just tempting God left and right.
I went to the opening of a shoe store named Schutz for their press breakfast. The breakfast was beef on crostini. As you probably know, that’s not breakfast. Schutz is Brazilian. It’s possible that is breakfast in Brazil. Maybe that’s what escaped Nazis eat, I don’t know. So, that was depressing, however, they gave me a pair of shoes that I love. Look! Look at them!
I feel like I’m going to look like some sort of 19th century pasha in these cool slipper shoes. I’m going to assemble a harem. It’s going to be made out of the waiters who carry crostini beef at 9 in the morning. I think they’ll like it.
Maybe if they misbehave I’ll throw them into a monster pit like Jabba the Hutt. I’m not sure how 19th century pashas behave, but the perks seem limitless, and I’m eager to test my own boundaries. But, obviously, in a Hutt way, not a Fifty Shades of Grey way.
These shoes have really given me a new lease on life.
Then I went and got breakfast at Norma’s. Norma’s is one of my favorite restaurants. It only serves breakfasts, and it’s only open until 3. It’s a bit uptown, and it’s awful to get into on the weekends, so being out of the office and going there during the weekday was pretty great. I’m not going to say that the ridiculous breakfast at Norma’s could cure all of the world’s problems, but I’d say, like, 75% of them, probably. If you sat down all the dictators and just forcefed them creme brulee waffles, a lot would change. I do not regard dropping my male harem into a monster pit as a problem, I just view that as having the freedom to be the kind of woman I want to be.
Anyhow. I wanted chocolate French toast with pistachios and strawberries and whipped cream, but I didn’t order it, because… I guess because a total stranger told that I looked like the kind of girl who could eventually become fat? Eventually? This is the kind of utterly insane thing I’m going to regret on my deathbed. Fuck it. This is the kind of thing I regret today, right now. This is what the chocolate french toast at Norma’s looks like. I bet you didn’t eat it today either, so we can be sad together: