The Fug Girls Present Their Biannual Fashion Week Awards for the Fourth TimeJust when we thought Fashion Week held no more surprises, we discovered that, as usual, we were wrong. After all, if sharing air space with K-Fed, J.Lo, and Liza Minnelli (L.Mi?) wasn’t enough to shake us out of our jaded, hard-hearted cynicism for a moment, nothing is. And though the last eight days were often exhausting and occasionally eye-crossing, they were also, as ever, tremendously fun. Here are a few highlights:
new york fugging city
K-Fed Celebrates the Return of Sean JohnIt all happened so quickly: an orgy of flashbulbs, a whirl of a revolving door, and suddenly standing six feet from us in the Cipriani foyer was none other than the man, the myth, the Federline.
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Breaking: The K-Fed Has Landed at Fashion Week!Hot on the heels of yesterday’s rumors that Kevin Federline would be sitting in Marc Jacobs’s front row, we have now spotted K-Fed at the Sean John show at Cipriani 42nd Street. If we were the betting kind — and our twelve-step sponsor says we are — we’d say Sean John is just K-Fed’s warm-up act (with all due respect to Mr. Combs). If he’s here, it all but confirms that El Fed will be sweating out the six-hour wait at Marc Jacobs. As any self-respecting tabloid fixture would!
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Today in Marc Jacobs Rumors: K-Fed to Sit Front Row?!There may be a bribery scandal floating around the 69th Regiment Armory, but Marc Jacobs’s show will still go on tomorrow night at the scene of the crime (bets are still out, however, on how many hours late he’ll start). As Marc is the show of the week, rumors are flying about the blogosphere like they’re, dare we say, going out of style. Cathy Horyn heard that Sonic Youth would be playing at the show and found it hilarious (why that’s so funny, we have no idea).
new york fugging city
Welcome Back, Fug Girls!Spring 2007’s Fashion Week introduced jaded new eyes to Bryant Park: Heather and Jessica, creators of the celebrity whipping post Go Fug Yourself. The Fug Girls are back this season to excoriate the A-list and chastise the B-list.
Our favorite part of 2006, including the heroic news of Britney kicking K-Fed to the curb, was Fashion Week. We came, schmoozed, and boozed our way through a week of haute couture and hot parties. So we’re thrilled to be returning to spot celebs in the front row and spy on them at the after-parties this winter. But this time, we’re coming prepared even blasé. We vow that, this go-round, we will not be horrified by interpretive dance on the runways, nor will we fly into a vicious rage when some forward-thinking designer tries to convince us that we should be wearing pants on our heads. (Don’t worry: Both of these statements are lies. There will totally be horror AND rage. Probably during the first show on our schedule.) But what we’re most breathlessly anticipating is the moment when we find out if we’re in for yet another six months of leggings or if our long national nightmare is finally over. Our poison pens are poised and ready.