Chatting with Whitney Port at the HauteLook event at the Bryant Park Hotel. She didn’t love the Ports 1961 show either…but the models did inspire that awesome hair she has going.

In the tents, being interviewed by RTL about celebs getting paid to sit in front rows. I ran up and down the steps on 6th Avenue a few times so that the cameraman could get the perfect shot of me walking in, drawing some very curious looks from onlookers.

After the Ports 1961 show, I limped back home to divest myself of those freaking shoes and walk the kids. Before heading back to the tents to film an interview for RTL on celebs getting paid to sit in the front rows of shows, I changed into a vintage chiffon minidress, vintage boots and necklace (purchased for 50 cents in Texas while on a road trip with my dad), and a faux-fur vest.

I like this look better than the first choice of the day. Since I don’t own a whole lot of couture or particularly fashionista-impressing labels, my Fashion Week strategy involves wearing things that allow me to say, “Oh this? This is vintage.”

P.S. Check out our overflowing coatrack in the background. This was our solution to the fact that we have exactly one closet in the entire place…but now I frequently wake up in the middle of the night and think that a large, puffy creature is sitting in the corner, waiting to attack. Can’t WAIT for summer (when the coats head over to the lovely storage room at my parents’).

We’ll just call this one a “bad idea” and leave it at that (no discussion of the numerous times that I went sliding wildly across the icy pathways around Bryant Park in front of intimidating, black-clad young ladies, please).

I also checked out Ports 1961 Thursday afternoon, but my camera rebelled on me (hence the reblog). I hated the headpieces and liked the slouchy dresses…but honestly, I thought that lots of the pieces were based around elements that I’ve been seeing for years (e.g. bedazzled necklines and batwing sleeves). My favorite part of the show came afterwards, when I met Mary for the second time ever.

Me: “Congratulations on all the exciting things going on for you! Your sister’s fiance is gorgeous; you must be so happy for her! And I love your website redesign!”

<Long pause.>

Mary: “I love your…videos.”

Trying to get ready to head to the shows this morning, I tore pretty much every item of clothing I own out of the closet and piled it on the bed (um…Kendrick? When you get home, just…close your eyes). And this is what I ended up with: a Forever 21 black minidress, a Millau hole-y cardigan (Liz’s entry to the Ugliest Clothing Contest at Meghan’s Clothing Swap!), Juno heels (which I was interviewed about no less than four times this morning), and a whole bunch of jewelry. Not very exciting, I know…but the idea of getting dressed for Fashion Week just makes me want to curl up in bed and go back to sleep.

I’m just not particularly comfortable in this world (by which I mean the shows themselves…not the parties - love the parties!). I don’t want to be pushy, don’t want to ask for better seats, don’t want to cheek-kiss…well…anyone, really. If I’m being interviewed or interviewing people (as I’m doing later on this afternoon), that’s one thing, but going just to check out the scene is very not my thing. It should tell you something that the part of the day that has excited me the most thus far has been dreaming about what I’m going to put in the super cute ceramic planter that I got in the Ports 1961 gift bag.