I'd just finished my chai latte -- Black Forest, never Starbucks -- when the inimitable Robert Wilonsky appeared at my office door, his bone-toned striped shirt just the right kind of rumpled (it could only be Ralph Lauren). Wilonsky needed something. That gruff, sulky bear of a journalist, long an unofficial mascot of Dallas' rogue rag, roaming (and stalking and seething in!) the halls of the Observer offices in that trademark pair of Billy Reid boots, needed something.
I tugged at the imported scarf around my neck, the little blue one with the gold stitching that I'd picked up on a weekend in New York, amazingly enough, in a little tourist boutique on St. Mark's Place. I nodded. Wilonsky entered with a question: "Are you going to do anything for Unfair Park about fashion week?"
"Uh."
"Fashion week. 'Dallas International Fashion Week.' I was just going to post the schedule on the blog, but if you want to write something about it, feel free. Did you get the press release?"
"Yeah, I got some shit about it."
"Cool."
So here it is. Tickets are $45-$150, but that doesn't give you access to the after-parties, so you best work on your oral skills (talking! I mean talking!)
See you at the Jaime Pressly show. I can't wait to ask her how she developed her character in Can't Hardly Wait. After that, we'll stalk Malan Breton and make him do the creepy laugh. Then we'll try to play off our jealousy by making fun of everyone there, calling them shallow and materialistic before going home to cry into a wadded-up fistful of Ross sacks. --Andrea Grimes
