Memo Pad: Three's Company

Though it may seem like fashion week is the only game in town, today marks the convergence in New York of more than one disparate world: New York's primary...

Kim France, editor in chief, Lucky: "I love a parade, my candidate, and the shows, but I will only be enjoying two of these things on Tuesday. The ticker tape will have to wait until my candidate wins."

Linda Wells, editor in chief, Allure: "I'm voting in the morning. I had my own parade for the Giants last night, so I won't be throwing ticker tape, but will in spirit. To deal with the traffic, I'll be traveling with my Kindle, reading Charles Bock's 'Beautiful Children.'"

Lesley Jane Seymour, editor in chief, More: "My biggest fashion accessory is going to be my Obama pin...but I am just not a football fan. If Diane von Furstenberg was facing off against Miuccia Prada, that would be my Super Bowl."

Cindi Leive, editor in chief, Glamour: "I voted in the primary already — absentee ballot — I vote upstate — and I can't imagine that the ticker-tape parade will beat the 40 screaming people in my living room last night, so it's shows as usual, with a two-hour block off in the middle of the day to chair an ASME board meeting, possibly more intense than the Giants parade but usually no one wears face paint!"

Roberta Myers, editor in chief, Elle: "Yes, [I'm] voting, after I drop off my son at school. Yes, I'm a Giants fan! I probably won't make the parade." Who is she voting for? "I'm voting in the Democratic primary. How's that?"

Joe Zee, creative director, Elle: "Unfortunately, I can't vote — I'm Canadian — or Super Tuesday would have been my first choice. I'm not a football fan. I know, I'm going to get lynched for that one...but I'm proud for New York though, that we won!"

Richard David Story, editor in chief, Departures: "I, for one, kinda love the madness of deciding between superfrocks, Super Bowl or Super Tuesday, even though it's like the end of 'Chinatown' where Faye Dunaway in between bouts of hysterical sobbing and slaps to the face by Jack Nicholson, cries out, 'My sister, (SLAP) my daughter, (SLAP) my sister, (SLAP) my daughter...'"
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