Memo Pad: Blogging Bryant Park... No Dividend for the Times

Fashion week has always produced some entertaining blog posts from fashion writers who provide quick hits from runway shows and bad behavior from celebrities.

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Tinsley Mortimer

Photo By Kristen Somody Whalen

THE BLOGGERS’ VIEW: Fashion week has traditionally produced some entertaining blog posts from fashion writers who provide quick hits from runway shows and bad behavior from celebrities. This season, though, a kinder, gentler tone has emerged. A sign of these uncertain economic times? Perhaps, but more likely an indication of the more frequent fashion week usage of Twitter, which has emerged as a new home for snark and gossip. Here, a few comments posted by bloggers during the shows.

— Amy Wicks and Stephanie D. Smith

“Why isn’t Michelle [Obama] texting me? When she was raising money for her husband’s campaign, girlfriend was in communication 100 times a day. Now I am watching the show of the guy who designed her inaugural gown and…nothing.” — Lynn Yaeger, blogging about the Jason Wu show on

“Just arrived at the Marc Jacobs show, with many fewer people. These times…No set or bleachers, just red carpet. Said hello to André Leon Talley, who was cloaked in his genuine matador cape. ‘Is it a Snuggles?’ I said.” — Cathy Horyn for

“Tinsley Mortimer is at Baby Phat. Is this what the end of the world looks like?” — Twitter on

“‘What am I supposed to say about the clothing — my wife designed it,’ said [Harvey] Weinstein, who is married to Marchesa designer Georgina Chapman. With his influence in Hollywood — and the fact that his movie ‘The Reader’ is up for the Best Picture Academy Award on Sunday — he could have inside knowledge (and, likely, influence) over stars’ red carpet choices. In fact, he made the point of adding, ‘I know a lot of movie stars who are going to be wearing some of this stuff to the Oscars on Sunday.’” — Cheryl Lu-Lien Tan for

“An hour or so later, back in the tents, Diane von Furstenberg offers an even sicker idea: giant hats festooned with steroidal pom-poms. I’m not very happy at DVF. Even though I used to swear I would never be one of those jerks who makes a fuss about her seat, and that any seat would be just dandy for me, I am in row six at DVF and can only observe the top two-thirds of the models’ outfits, which appear to favor panne-velvet animal prints and big plaids. (Is this a trend? Isaac Mizrahi recently described his fall Liz Claiborne creations as “flapper meets lumberjack.”) But don’t trust me; I can’t really see anything from where I’m sitting. In fact, when Di comes out at the end of the show and stops halfway down the runway to kiss a ringleted person sitting next to Barry Diller, I think maybe it’s her daughter — but it turns out to be Diana Ross.” — Lynn Yaeger for

“All of those fashion week parties and late-night blogging sessions have meant lots of under-eye concealer, double coffee intake, and an increasingly embarrassing round of daily affirmations (“I can walk in high heels, I can walk in high heels!”). So nothing made me light up more than the scene awaiting me outside of Tommy Hilfiger’s show this morning…Cute boys. In cute Tommy Hilfiger clothes. Holding espresso and macaroons. I like to think it’s Tommy’s way of being my daily affirmation. ‘You’re almost there, Tracey. Just one more day to go. Just one more day.’” — Tracey Lomrantz for

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