Don't talk just judge

Dating dating you're so bad, who is the worst date I've ever had? Was it the dude who stayed silent, claimed to be not much of a "people" person, walked ahead of me by at least a minute, and contacted me THREE times afterwards when I was clearly not interested? Or was it the guy who claimed showering was not a necessity and tried to ask me out again by using MY TYPE of charm in his correspondence? Or was it the really nice guy who was sort of interesting but got a bit too close on a first date, clearly oblivious to the fact that I'm the type of girl you can only kiss on like the third date? You be the judge.

This week I discovered that people with shitty blogs think highly of themselves. I was the judge.

Ramata booked Greta Constantine, but she also opened and closed Pink Tartan. Okay she was the second last one, but still, the only girl who remotely resembled Kim's influence=Grace Jones. You had no idea how excited I was. I ran backstage after the show, asked a model about Ramata, which was the dumbest idea ever because the girl did not comprehend a word I was saying (and I speak model). The crowd judged.

LG Fashion Week has been good to me so far, except for the fact that my body is almost in exhaustion mode and I may pass out. Must survive for two more days. Can I measure up? Iman's the judge.

Wishing old, pseudo hot female client would get Twitter. Her status updates would rule. Overshare? Don't you judge me!

School's easy down under (it's true, ever notice how your dumb friends always make it to law school or teacher's college in Australia?), being a rad designer, even easier. LA Street Style judges.

If SNP doesn't use it like I requested, I'll coin it: "The French would rather starve than not look good." That's why all the good designers at LG Fashion Week are from Montreal. The reviews have spoken.

photography: James Kachan