NY Fashion Week: Tales of Starvation & Swag

Last night, a foodie friend of mine -- actually, Juliette Rossant of the amazing SuperChefBlog.com -- asked me to regale her with the details of where I ate when I was in New York. I had to laugh. Juliette, I said, I was there for FASHION WEEK. I ate mints and drank vitamin water! Actually, not totally true. At the Zac Posen after-party, in the VIP balcony, I snagged a hamburger the size of a quarter (it's true!) and two crostini. And on Thursday afternoon, I ate the banana that I had put in my bag that morning around 4 am.

Fashion Week is just. that. hectic. You're standing in line, you're trying to figure out where the hell the line starts, you're trying to figure out how to get a seat assignment if you don't have one already, and if you have an off-site show, you're trying to figure out how to get there -- or get back to the tents in time for another show. The shows are always late, but the rub is, you never know HOW late.

Also, I was talking to other friends -- shout out to Liz and to Molly of virtualfarmgirl (except she's kind of a real farm girl, the girl really owns a farm!) -- who asked, have you blogged about the swag yet? Which is funny because my blog is called Swagulous in the City. And yet, I have written nothing on the swag. The reason? Next to no swag. I am serious, NY Fashion Week was as UNswagulous as they come. I got pieces of paper printed with descriptions of the outfits (helpful) but in at least one case (you know who you are Custo Barcelona), I got but a single sheet with a paragraph-long mission statement on it. I blame Ben Bernanke. Ben, lose the Grizzly Addams beard and start fixing this economy so a hardworking girl can load up on product thanks to corporate largesse!

When there was swag, it tended towards the unfabulous. The press bags this year topped last year's droopy Snoopy duffel only in their heinousness. Think clunky rectangular tote in thick navy plastic with wide straps and some zippers on the front. I am afraid this IS your grandmother's gimme tote. The American Society of Pocketprotectors must have been thrilled when they unloaded their convention bag overstock!

What was inside? Prepare to be underwhelmed:

-- A bottle stopper

-- A bottle opener

-- Another bottle opener

-- a tiny blue plastic OB tampon purse holder, avec tiny tampons

-- Judith Ripka gift cert. for $250 (bringing down the per-bauble cost to only few thousand $)

-- Bliss Spa body cream, actually great stuff that smells yum, so I am v. excited about this giftie!

-- A kind of cool spiral notebook (although sadly the cover's printed with a LadMag-worthy cheese shot of a leggy model straddling a Mercedes)

-- A nifty American Apparel T-shirt (size M -- thank you whoever ordered these, for knowing AA runs microscopic) that is printed with the DHL logo and is, sadly, DHL orange (why not red?)

-- Strivectin stretch mark cream (a hint, forsooth?)

-- Two samples of cream (one of which looks like Smurf-blue frosting, see post below)

-- A nice MAC make-up bag with a brush, a lipgloss and liquid eyeliner inside. Bravo MAC!

-- Two small booze bottles, Chambord & Bombay Sapphire.

Other than that, I got a small gift bag with a NARS compact and two nailpolishes in it from the Willow show (only given to the folks in the front row -- and yes I did snag such a seat, thankyaverymuch!), a Bumble & Bumble fabric tote that's kinda nifty from the Rad Hourani show (filled with a bottle of vitamin water and a notebook, which was cool and very much appreciated). But the best swag bag award goes to ... cash-register-caching chorus please ...

P. Diddy! Everyone at Cipriani -- and that was a whole lotta folks, let me tell you! -- got a big black gift bag with two packages of his fragrance, Unforgivable for men, and Unforgivable Woman for, er, women. Plus two samples of another fragrance, Unforgivable Black, which may be coming out soon. Oh, and some vitamin water.

Oh, and I got a bottle of BORBA skin water at the Zac After Party -- some chick was handing out Borba fabric totes with the bottles at the coat check (a logical swag distribution point, right!?). The Borba tasted like watered down Kool-Aid, which was fine, but the bottle used so much plastic it made me feel like an environmental criminal, and the color was this odd blue usually reserved for the type of cheap kiddie candy that incorporates "blueberry," "fizzle" and "blastoff" into its packaging. Is my skin better for it? Maybe. But I will back Amore Pacific to the end.