You are what you eat at Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week

On my first morning at Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week I was feeling rather virtuous. A quick grapefruit juice to gird my soon to be 'fash' battle weary loins early on with a slew of shows ahead.

Michael Angel was edgy and cool - lots of sequin surprise detail mixed with gossamer thin sheer jackets and fabulous print skinny wrap dresses. At this point I decided in order to wear any of his lean look attire, I would probably have to stick to the one grapefruit juice a day until next spring.

Next up was Ports 1961 - a fabulous array of ethereal looks, drapey silks and grown up gowns that I could dream of having in my closet, but to be honest would never have an occasion to wear. Still super skinny silhouettes though, so operation 'sylph like by spring' was still on.

I held out until mid afternoon when my hunger pangs would refuse to be silent and even the guy sitting next to me could hear them. I opted for a healthy cup of fruit safe in the knowledge that by next summer those gowns might be attainable.

Then the rot set in on my grand plans, a small packet of Kettle chips sneaked through during an unguarded moment whilst waiting for the Alexander Berardi show. But that was fine as his looks were about nautical stripes and sequined high waisted harems that could hide a bulging muffin top with ease.

With a break during my show commitments it was off to Oceana to meet hubs and celebrate our wedding anniversary. Champagne + calamari + chicken and fries doth not a model make.

As I headed back to Lincoln Center for the Academy of Art University show in the back of a rickshaw (cabs were murder to find last night thanks to Fashion's Night Out)  I reflected on my days eating habits.... as did the poor rickshaw driver who was certainly getting his workout for the day hauling my fat butt back to the Upper West Side.

Ah well there's always tomorrow...