The following is an excerpt from my piece “NYFW: A Guide for Creepy Pervs” as seen on The Style Con:
It’s New York Fashion Week casting season and you know what that means! Time to break up with that girl you’ve been dating! There’s no place quite like New York to live in the perpetual quest of the Bigger Better Deal, and no better time to capitalize on that dick-driven delusion quite like NYFW. Yes, this is a magical time in a magical place. On any given Sunday there is always someone richer, hotter, and younger than what you’ve currently got welded onto your ankle, chaffing your skin and annoying the shit out of you. NYFW, with its parade of 100-pound baby aliens, will make you regret every vaguely old, not entirely pretty chick you’ve liked over the last ten years, sending you weeping into your pillow at night over years of low standards. Love really is a beast of burden, especially when you’re trying to prove to all your dude friends that you’re the man in the Bang Department. That’s right. Bang Department.