were so short he could even see the frilly white panties they were wearing underneath； which
happened to be little girls？ vintage underwear from the nineteen…fifties and fit so snugly on the
models that their butt cheeks were busting out of them。 Instead of sitting down in the front row；
where Rusty Klein had managed to snag him a seat between Stevie Nicks and superhip
performance artist Vanessa Beecroft； Dan stood at the back of the Harrison Street Club； clutching
his black leather…bound notebook and trying to look writerly in case Rusty Klein was somewhere
nearby and was secretly studying him。
The show was set to strange German folk music and there was straw scattered on the runway。
Little boys with blond pageboy haircuts wearing lederhosen led bleating white goats around by
leather leashes as impossibly tall models stomped by them； their bare breasts bobbing。
Bestiality； Dan scribbled furtively in his notebook。 The goats were crapping all over the place
and he noticed that the hems of the models？ skirts had been shredded on purpose。
Tears were drawn on their cheeks in iridescent blue eye pencil。Ruined milkmaids ； Dan wrote；
trying not to feel pletely out of place。 What the hell was he doing at a fashion show anyway？
The twenty…something…year…old brunette next to him leaned over and tried to read what he was
writing。 ？Who are you with？？ she demanded。 ？Nylon？Time Out ？？ She was wearing pointy
rhinestone…studded glasses fastened old…lady style to a gold chain around her neck and had the
thickest bangs Dan had ever seen。 ？Why aren？t you seated with press？？
Dan closed his black notebook before she could read any more。 ？I？m a poet；？ he said
importantly。 ？Rusty Klein invited me。？
The woman didn？t seem that impressed。 ？What have you published lately？？ she asked
suspiciously。
Dan tucked his notebook under his arm and smoothed down his new set of sideburns。 One of the
goats had gotten loose and jumped off the runway。 Four security guards ran after it。 ？Actually； one
of my more recent poems is in this week？s issue ofThe New Yorker 。 It？s called ？Sluts。？？
？No way！？ the woman gushed in a loud whisper。 She pulled her lavender leather Better Than
Naked tote bag into her lap and retrieved her copy ofThe New Yorker 。 Flipping through it； she
turned to page forty…two。 ？You don？t understand。 I read this poem over the phone toall my
girlfriends。 I can？t believe you wrote it。？
Dan didn？t know what to say。 This was his first encounter with an actual fan and he felt
simultaneously embarrassed and thrilled。 ？I？m glad you liked it；？ he replied modestly。
？Liked it？？ the woman repeated。 ？It changed my life！ Would you mind signing this for me？？ she
asked； thrusting the magazine into his lap。
Dan shrugged and retrieved his pen。Daniel Humphrey ； he scribbled just beside his poem； but his
signature looked a little plain and impersonal so he added a squiggly little flourish underneath it。
He？d scribbled over a few lines of the Gabriel Garcia Rhodes story； which seemed kind of like
sacrilege； but who really cared； when he？d just signed his first autograph。 He was famous？a real；
genuine writer！
？Thank youso； so much；？ the woman said； taking the magazine back。 She pointed to his
notebook。 ？Now you go ahead and keep writing；？ she whispered reverently。 ？Forget I bothered
you。？
German folk music morphed into opera and the little boys left the runway leading their goats。
Models floated in wearing long black wool capes； peacock blue suede thigh…high boots； and
ostrich feather headdresses。 They looked like characters out of aLord of the Rings sequel。
Dan flipped open his notebook and began to write。Good and bad witches； he scribbled。Hunting
hungry wolves 。 He bit the end of his pen and then added；Wish I could smoke a fucking cigarette 。
vposes as a poser
For her appearance at the Culture of Humanity by Jedediah Angel show at Highway 1 in Chelsea；
Vanessa broke her tradition of wearing only black and borrowed Ruby？s red scoop…neck top with
three…quarter…length sleeves。 It was the same top she？d worn once before and gotten a lot of
pliments on； probably because it was so low it revealed her soft； pale cleavage and a hint of
her black lace bra。 Vanessa had arrived late because her sister had insisted she take a cab； and of
course the cab had gotten stuck in the snow near Union Square。 While the driver yelled at the
towing pany on his cell phone with Lite FM blaring from the speakers； Vanessa had jumped
ship。 When she？d finally made it to the club； her ears had been frozen solid and she？d looked like
a walking snowball。 The fashion show had already started and she？d been sure they？d turn her
away at the huge garage door that served as an entrance； but when she？d given her name to the girl
at the door； a security guard with a flashlight had been appointed to personally escort Vanessa to
her seat in thecenter of thefront row 。 The chair had a card taped to it with
CHRISTINARICCIcrossed out in black marker and VANESSAABRAMSwritten in instead。
Vanessa had never felt so special in all her life。
The room was dark except for burning white foot…high candles lining the runway on either side。
Models dressed in navy blue above…the…knee sailor dresses with white piping and gold buttons at
the lapels held foghorns to their lips as the sound of a terrible storm at sea boomed out of the
sound system。 The white wall behind the runway was lit with a single spotlight； and on that wall
was projected the New York film essay Vanessa had sent to NYU。 The film was black and white
and it took on a sort of nineteen…forties classiness paired with the models？ sailor dresses。 And even
though everyone there seemed to be taking this whole bogus fashion…at…sea thing way too
seriously； Vanessa had to admit it was pretty cool to see her film up there in lights。
The wafer…thin woman next to her flipped open her PalmPilot and typed in；Brilliant backdrop ；
with a long red fingernail。 She was wearing an ID tag on her camel…colored cashmere sweater with
the wordVogue printed on it； and her brown hair was cut in a short bob with thick；
bronze…highlighted bangs。 She continued to type。Note： Ask Jed where the film came from。
Vanessa considered nudging her gently and saying； ？I made it；？ but she decided it would be more
fun to stay quiet and see what happened。 Maybe someone would detest the film and make a big
stink about it and Vanessa would bee known as the infamous filmmaker whose bitterly honest
portrayal of New York had been a real downer at Fashion Week。 She wondered how Dan was
doing at the Better Than Naked show。 She imagined him asking that hot new Brazilian
super…model？Anike； or whatever her name was？for a light without even knowing who she was。
That was the thing Vanessa most loved about Dan； his divine innocence。
The film came to the part where she？d filmed two old men wearing matching red…and…black plaid
wool jackets and black wool caps playing chess in Washington Square Park。 One guy？s head
bobbed against his chest； his burning cigar perched precariously on his sagging lower lip as he