Photo: Katherine Lowe
There's a reason that high powered editors are rarely late to the shows: town cars. Low powered bloggers invariably sprint red-faced into the venue just as the lights are dimming, hoping to find a standing position without too many tall people blocking their view. I'm the worst. If there's a bus to be missed or an incorrect subway line to be caught, I'll be the guy on it freaking out about missing the next show. Thanks to my being joined by hundreds of other late attendees, you'd be amazed by how often the shows are running 45 minutes over schedule. At Dries Van Noten last night, I arrived ridiculously late after getting hopelessly lost, but my impending doom was quelled by a prominent New York-based critic who hadn't yet shown up. They were holding the show for her, despite the fact that every other person in the room had taken their seats. Gotta love a small miracle. Speaking of which, I need to run. The next show starts in 20 minutes and it's a good 45 minute trip. Wish me luck.
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