As Tropical Storm Hanna’s sloppy seconds roared through New York on Saturday afternoon, bedraggled guests poured into Alexander Wang’s show and were greeted with two welcome sights: small bottles of white wine and Anna Wintour’s shiny, bone-dry bob. Naturally, the Vogue editrix bore no effects of the inclement weather. Either she has the world’s best umbrella-wrangler, or even the rain is afraid to bump into her. She also survived wearing a tight ribbed sweater on a humid day with nary a perspiration stain. We wish our sweat glands were so obedient. Maybe she secretly had hers removed in an exotic operation in Guam. You heard it here first.
Daisy Lowe — rocker Gavin Rossdale’s surprise daughter — fared less elegantly. Clutching a petite white pooch who looked as drenched as her brunette bangs, Daisy perched in the front row next to boyfriend Mark Ronson, whose severe-storm gear of choice was tight mid-thigh plaid shorts, a T-shirt that read “Bikini Kill,” and sneakers. We can’t wait until CNN’s live-on-the-scene hurricane reporters adopt this approach. Down the way, Erin Wasson merrily chirped to reporters about how pieces from her jewelry line, Low Luv, would appear on Wang’s models. And we can’t quite believe Jessica Szohr is the first Gossip Girl cast member we’ve seen at the tents, considering she plays our least favorite character (tied with Jenny Humphrey). In fact, we’ve spied her twice today: once, studiously avoiding photographers alongside Jessica Stam as they hustled into the tents pre–Charlotte Ronson, and again in Wang’s front row watching her model pal strut the catwalk. We hope she had a raincoat, because her paper-thin white V-neck isn’t going to stand up to the weather unless she takes shelter near Anna’s weather-repellent bob.
Speaking of, we realized it must be hard to be the Duchess of Bobtown, knowing that at any given show you are one of about four people in the room commanding all the curious stares. Still, we admit, we ogled. After a mixture of impassive faces, pursed lips, and the occasional shifting of her dark shades to seatmate Sally Singer, we noticed Anna checking her phone during the models’ final parade rather than giving the collection one last look (interpret that as you will; unfortunately, our body-language experts do not speak fluent A-Dubs). Interestingly, she appeared to be scrolling through texts on an outdated (by Vogue standards, we imagine) black Razr. What, no iPhone, A-Dubs? We know the lines were long, but isn’t that why God — by way of the Condé Nast HR department — created assistants?