There were flashes of light, bright and blinding. Paparazzi surrounded her, calling her name in their deep baritone voices. The old man, his bright blue shirt standing out among the crowd, pushed in through the people.
I stood on my chair, admittedly a victim of this mob mentality. I saw her,
Blake Lively, walking in front of me. Maybe two feet away. I can’t imagine being within such a throng of people, throwing themselves on you and their living depending on your ability to pose for a photo. I didn’t really think much at all when I spoke.
“Blake, you look beautiful!” I called out, not particularly loudly. I just felt like someone should tell her how gorgeous she looked.
She stopped; turned to face me, sending a wave of her golden curls down her shoulders, and smiled at me. “Thank you,” she said. And then she was lost in the flashes, the tugging of the guy with spiked blonde hair, and gone.
Before that,
Jennifer Lopez had been surrounded. I basically saw a lock of her light brown hair. The same had gone for
Rosario Dawson, though I did manage to see her a bit closer. Surprisingly,
Whitney Port lacked an entourage. She walked out, looking particularly cute in a black and brown dress, with a few girls I’m assuming were friends or coworkers. She’s also significantly prettier than she’s portrayed on TV.
Designer
Richie Rich plus a cute male friend in a blue and white striped blazer and khaki cargo shorts walked in and out a few times, posing for pictures with fans and for the paparazzi.
Models, none of whom I recognized but all from the
Tibi show, walked out in Chanel shoes and denim shorts. They were instantly plagued by the paparazzi, going so far as to photograph one girl’s shoes as she sat in a chair, plugged in to her iPod.
Although I didn’t manage to get in, I will be there tomorrow morning, bright and early, working the shows at the
Mercedes Benz Spring 2009 Fashion Week. And I am so unbelievably psyched.
Labels: NYC
