Cold Feet

I'm back in Brooklyn and back in my bed. I haven't washed away the tinted moisturizer and eyeliner and mascara from my face yet, but I know what I'm wearing tomorrow. A little dress I forgot I had until the walk home from the C train. Leggings to keep out the cold. Flat boots to protect my feet from the beating they took today.

At the Robert Geller show, I stood outside in the cold in my heels for 40 minutes waiting to be seated. By minute 27 my feet had numbed to the pain and the cold. My wait was rewarded when I entered and was greeted by two coolers filled with liquid gold aka bottled beer. I sipped and waited for the show to begin, scanning the crowd to see what others were wearing. I chatted with my co-worker about how her day had been since we had parted around noon. The lights dimmed. I thought the show was good but not knowing very much about menswear, it's hard to describe my feelings with any other words. I rushed outside and put on the flats in my bag.

Almost exactly 60 minutes later I found myself on that same block waiting once again. This time for Lorick. I didn't take the time to put my heels back on, and I stood in my ratty flats with my co-worker. I have to say that I loved it. Unfortunately there was no beer this time, but the clothes made up for it. The palette consisted of deep navies and steely grays with the occasional pop of deep yellow or red. High necklines in the front were accented with low backs. Full skirts were everywhere. The clothes seemed to be growing up. Or maybe it's the Lorick girl that's carefully making her way into adulthood.

It's hard to explain all of this without photographs, but there will be time to add those tomorrow. Now it's time for one of the chocolates that my mother sent me for Valentine's Day and a late showing of What Not to Wear and bed.