Typically, I emerge from New York Fashion Week feeling exhausted (the rest of schlepping from one show to the next for countless hours, in 20-degree weather, trying to look chic while avoiding patches of ice and piles of snow, then commuting back home to writer about what transpired and tend to everyday duties), frustrated (all the peacocking outside of Lincoln Center and all the nose-in-the-air attitudes at each show will grate on anyone’s nerves), and oddly inspired (despite all the headaches, there are usually at least a handful of shows that will elicit a positively emotional reaction and some beauty looks that will awaken your own inner artist).
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