Be Gracious, or Shut the F*ck Up.

Good manners in the age of Fashion Week.

Your bootleg Emily Post, reporting for duty.

We have now reached peak Fashion Week—the point in time when I start to hate everything and everyone and this entire industry. Having been through this a few times, I've learned that this will pass, that I don’t actually hate it all and that fatigue has just set in.

For heaven’s sake, when I lived in Atlanta, there were maybe two events like this a month. In New York, there are ten in a day. Nobody can keep up with that unless they are 21, on a lot of cocaine, or both. I am not built for this kind of manic schedule!

When I look at the data from my Fashion Week coverage, it doesn’t actually perform all that well. It does alright, but it’s a prescient reminder of what Laurel wrote this morning: to paraphrase, that very few people care about fashion week outside of the group of people attending the shows.

So you have this tiny contingency of people writing for each other, a little performance of who got invited to what and wore what in a little online circle jerk, bouncing around off each other in an algorithmic game of Pong.

It’s why I write about it in the way I do, trying to extract the little interesting bits of style spotting in a more anthropological approach that (hopefully) you can use.

I only write about the shows in detail that I know this particular audience cares about and spare you the rest of the windbag “aren’t I fabulous?”-ness of it all, because in the end, that kind of writing is really only for me, isn’t it? It’s like braggadocious verbal masturbation.

And judging by the feedback I get from readers, you aren’t living through it with me with excitement; it makes many of you feel bad. It creates FOMO.

So, no more fashion week coverage for now, okay? I have a few things left as the week winds down, and if there’s anything cool I think might inspire you, I’ll share that, but otherwise, we’re moving on. Cool?

In the spirit of trying not to make anyone feel like poo, there are a few “icks” I run up against every time this week rolls around, so I thought I’d share a little etiquette lesson with you.

This isn’t to be sanctimonious but to make you ask yourself if you’re hurting someone’s feelings unintentionally. These rules apply far beyond the week in question.

1. Don’t ask someone if they’re attending a specific event if you aren’t sure they’re invited. “Are you going to [insert show/party/event here]?” is asked of me so many times during this week, and while I know that most people don’t mean any harm by it, it comes off as elitist and competitive. What if I’m not invited? Well, then you stepped in it, didn’t you? I decree that we ban this question! The only time I ask is when I know it’s fine to bring someone; that way, I can act like they were always meant to come with me. Most people aren’t going to go somewhere unless they feel radically welcome. We have to go out of our way to include people meaningfully. So, if you can’t extend that courtesy, don’t bring it up. Or do, and be the asshole that’s keeping tabs in your head like it’s a game of Connect Four. We aren’t meant to know every party we weren’t invited to. Everyone wants to feel liked and included. It’s human. If, for your own vanity/validation, you’re stepping on someone’s feelings because you need them to know you’re attending something, perhaps reflect on why that is. Stumped? I’ll help you: begin at insecurity and go from there.

2. If you are invited to an event, don’t ask who else is coming before you agree to attend. You’re saying, “Let me determine by your group of friends whether or not this party is cool enough for me.” Again, maybe you mean no harm by the question and have social anxiety. Maybe you just want to know you’ll have a buddy in the room. But that’s the risk you take. It’s like being invited to a dinner party and asking, “Well, maybe I’ll come… what’s on the menu?” If it’s a work thing, sometimes I’ll ask who is confirmed a few days before if I’m feeling anxious or sick, but not as a contingency of my attendance.

3. If you RSVP yes and find you can’t attend, let the host know ASAP. I just found out a few days ago that my guy’s swearing-in for the New York Bar is today, so I can’t attend some stuff I’d committed to this afternoon. I emailed my regrets when I found out, more than 24 hours in advance. If I am hosting an event—especially something like a seated dinner with a seating chart and a high price per head—unless it’s a true emergency, you had better let me know more than a hot minute in advance if you can’t come. And you’d better be contrite, not flippant. If you no call/no show? Be well, friend. I’ll see you around, but not at one of my parties because you’re never invited back. This is less true if it’s an open event with many people coming and going at will. Your host may not even notice your absence. But you’d better have a good reason not to come when your name is on the seat. I was asked to dinner last week, and when I was five minutes away, I got a phone call about an urgent family emergency. I was fully dressed, turned the Uber around, and cried my makeup off the whole way home. I texted the host how incredibly sorry I was, that I genuinely appreciated the invite, and how sad I was to miss it. She was so classy about it. She could tell I was shaken up and even checked on me the next day. So, I’m not saying it never happens. But for heaven’s sake, when it does, be considerate.

4. Be on time. This one is tough during a week that is so slammed to the hilt, but if you’re coming to something where your seat is assigned, show up on time. You aren’t Rihanna, you don’t need security and four handlers to walk into a fashion show, and nobody will hold the lights if you aren’t there.

This is also a list for myself because I’m occasionally guilty of these things, too. And sometimes situations are more nuanced than the above allows. For example, during my anniversary dinner last week, some of my friends were hurt that they weren’t invited. I made it clear the only folks invited were the founders and designers I’d written about in our Designer Dossier. I only had three extra seats, and those were held for media. Once they understood that, they realized they weren’t excluded — and plenty of people ended up swinging through for a drink anyhow.

Life (and fashion week) is hard enough, yeah? Being kind is cool. And if you can’t do that, then (kindly) just shut the fuck up.