Thanks to a couple of unfortunate internships, I learned to hate most people in the fashion industry. And thanks to this comic strip, I am reminded why. My father is not a Russian oligarch, my mother was not a model in the 60s, and I am not 90 lbs, therefore, I do not belong in this world of “fashion”. And damn it, that’s fine by me.
Drawings by Peter Arkle for NY Mag
Top from left to right:
The rich Russian in fur; The street-style photographer who stand posing not shooting; The dandy freelance journalist whose byline you’ve never seen; The shivering model with her leather jacket and Chanel 2.55, The twenty-something fashion blogger who only changes in front of her driver
Botton from left to right:
The veteran editor with children-as-accessories (Saturdays only); The nightlife hieress/ DJ/ cokehead/ shoe designer/ instagram star; The seat-stealing junior buyer in a fascinator; The menswear pre-1976 heritage tumblr-blogger/ model; The totally black-clad power tripping PR intern
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