Tuesday, September 22


Sonnet scores me a ticket for the Jonathan Saunders show in an old warehouse somewhere in Westminster.  Sanders an up-and-comer who, Sonnet assures me, is the flava of the moment.  His spring-summer 2010 collection dreamy - all chiffon and loosey hangy things.  There are as many models and wanna-be's in the audience (I am most certainly the latter) and over there is Anna Wintour.  The cat walkers tall and composed with extraordinary bone structure - so this is what we strive for as a society.  Many of them a bit too thin and hard not to consider "malnourished."  They also look dreadfully bored with eyes focused on something anywhere else.  This is the look that exclaims oh so lucidly: "you are nothing."  But we love it.  Saunders takes a brief bow and like that, it is over.  I bump into a number of the girls on their way into London and they are simply so young - I might guess 15 or 16.  Maybe a few years older. They have bad complexion.  They smoke and talk on their mobile phones.  Sonnet says the show soon off  to New York, Milan or Paris.  A weird existance these gals enjoy and what every American teenager dreams of.

"The leading cause of death among fasion models is falling through street grates."
--Dave Berry