We arrived at Schiphol airport on Friday morning, squealing with excitement. We headed to check out bags in at the counter, and the KLM-assistant smiled radiantly and said “good morning! your flight has been cancelled and you can proceed to desk 16 for further assistance.”

WhAT?!

We walked over to the desk feeling stunned and confused, and heard that our flight would indeed not be taking off today. “Why not?” I asked, and received the rather vague “it’s technical” as an answer. Ok. Clear. The man changing our tickets said that he could book us on to a flight that would land at 8pm in NY, which wasn’t very useful because we’d miss the L.A.M.B. show, the Monique Lullihier show and we’d probably end up late for the Carine Roitfeld party at the Plaza Hotel. After some nagging and moaning we managed to get booked on a flight via Frankfurt and arrived at JFK exhausted and broken at 4pm. After customs, fetching bags, finding travel to the city, and finally locating the apartment at 7pm, we realise that we’d missed all the shows, but that we might just get to Carine’s party on time.

It was really cool to be there, but you know, it also made me feel a little insignificant.

We hopped in a taxi to the Plaza and landed in the NYFW party, as May already told you. Walking around there felt slightly surreal, in between all the big names and beautiful people. It was really cool to be there, but you know, it also made me feel a little insignificant. Just when you thought you’d got things reasonably together in your life, you end up standing amongst the most gorgeous and thinnest people on earth, and then you think like what’s left over? “Pay no attention, you look absolutely fine” May said, and she’s right. Once the champagne and jet lag had totally defeated us, we rolled back in a taxi to our fabulous Park Avenue apartment and you know, that’s pretty cool.

Saturday started at 10am in Lincoln Centre with the Lacoste show. We were seated in the Dutch corner, Sabrina Meijer from afterdrk.com was just in front of me, and Eveline from Grazia and Sigrid Stamkot from Spits just ahead of her. The Lacoste show was lovely, with one or two exciting twists and a new look and feel. A tad more conceptual than normal, and a bit more extreme. We like. After that we split up, May went backstage at Rebecca Taylor and I stayed in the Lincoln Centre to go backstage at Hervé Leger. We had lunch at Gitane and hardly spoke a word to each other as we sat singing the praises of the absurdly delicious food. We quickly had our nails done and then headed off to our Park Avenue loft to write and get ready for the last part of the evening, dinner at Morandi with Micha Krijger of Micha Models and her husband Sander. The evening ended with a shitload of rain (that’s what you get with tropical temperatures during the day) and your editors climbed into bed, very tired and tipsy but hugely satisfied.

Tomorrow I’ll tell you all about Sunday and Monday. A hint: May has a date with David Beckham, Liesbeth gets very close to Olivia Palermo and we become best friends with Tommy Hilfiger.