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March 21, 2007

L.A. Fugshion Week: Nicky Hilton

Dear Nicky Hilton,

You're in the front row at L.A. Fashion Week, and you're related to that drippy suckmaggot Paris -- she who blithely did her makeup in the middle of a Max Azria show in September -- so we shouldn't be surprised that you have a short attention span yourself.

And we were even willing to give you the benefit of the doubt that, mid-show, you were merely idly clutching your BlackBerry because you didn't have anything else to do with that hand -- perhaps Brandon Davis was on your other side, for instance, and you were trying not to catch anything via accidental contact. That's certainly completely understandable.

But then we saw another photo.

Bitch, please. Now, I'm sure you're not the only one who does this, but that doesn't make it right. Fashion shows are, like, 10 minutes long, once they get going. I know L.A. Fashion Week doesn't quite have the cachet of its New York cousin, but seriously, whatever it is couldn't wait? You couldn't be polite, having been given a prize spot by the runway, and refrain from gazing at your BlackBerry for a few minutes? What was the emergency? Had one of the items in your clothing line accidentally turned out attractive, forcing a last-second redesign? Did Paris forget how to use a zipper and need you for advice? Where are your manners, child? Surely Paris didn't borrow them; she wouldn't know what to do with them if they came with instructions.

Oh, and, er, bringing it back on topic about the clothes... actually, you pretty much look fine. WHEN YOU ARE NOT BEING RUDE.

Sheesh.

Posted by Heather at 02:59 PM in High Fugshion, Paris & Nicky Hilton | Permalink

 

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