Bare Paws

When I wrote this Explorer a few weeks ago, about how women manage to brave Antarctica-like temperatures in New York, I decided to thoroughly examine our own NY adventure. The idea was to ask every woman we saw with bare legs/toes/ankles/stomachs/whatever how how HOW she managed to not die. So yesterday afternoon after the Lacoste show, it was time to make my move. A dozen birds of paradise paraded across the square in front of the Lincoln Center, amongst them a lot of bare paws, a bare belly, and even a completely bare midriff. The latter was a girl from North Dakota, and that bare midriff was so bare, that I was perfectly able to see her breasts and goosebumps. She explained that her survival instinct was due to the fact that her own city was much colder, and that the −2 New York temperatures was quite the tropical trip. Right. So then there was the woman with the red-white-back striped trousers and dark blue-white loafers. May asked, “how are you dealing with the cold?” The answer: “I’m not. I’m dying.” Sounds a lot more honest. Then there was another girl that had bare legs even though the rest of her outfit was mwah, which she did because of the “dedication to my outfit.” Call me a bitch, but if you’re so dedicated then why not go for a to-die-for look?

After the first day, you shouldn’t instantly draw your conclusions, but I think you’ve got to be part crazy to ignore bodily discomfort over a love for fashion (and attention). Besides, I think it’s cheating. It’s winter, for crying out loud, so you should wear winter attire rather than summer attire. This exploration will be continued so who knows, someone might give me the golden recipe. Until then, I’m enjoying all that blackened skin on the streets, and you’ll enjoy our photos because honestly: it’s quite entertaining.