It was bound to happen sooner or later. I experienced my first Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week diva meltdown yesterday. I walked about 1000 blocks to the Zegna fashion show (it was on the other side of town from the Bryant Park tents) in the soupy, muggy air. It felt like dressing up, and then going for a five-mile walk in a sauna.
I finally made it to the show and gave my name at the door.
"It looks like you didn't RSVP," the woman in black told me.
I explained to her that I did RSVP.
"I'm sorry, we don't have a seat for you," she said in a tone that really didn't sound like she was sorry.
"I'm sorry that your show is a disorganized mess," I snapped back. I stormed out, grabbing a glass of complimentary champagne on the way, and then cooled my heels down the street at Pinkberry.
So, um, no report on the Zegna show.