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Serena　skipped　onstage　wearing　her　gray　pleated　Constance　Billard　

School　uniform　skirt；　red　suede　over…the…knee　boots；　and　a　little　red　wool　minicape　tied　at　the　
neck。　Under　the　cape　she　was　wearing　her　own　white　baby　tee　with　I　LOVEAARONemblazoned　
in　black　across　the　chest。　Her　long　blond　hair　was　done　in　pigtails；　and　her　face　was　free　of　
makeup；　except　for　her　lips；　which　were　painted　a　bright；　thrilling　red。　Serena　walked　the　runway　
with　easy　confidence；　flouncing　her　pleated　uniform　skirt；　twirling　around；　and　then　pausing　for　
the　cameras　like　she？d　been　doing　it　for　years。　

Who　is　she？A　hundred　gossip…starved　voices　murmured　at　once。And　who　is　Aaron？　

Blair　rolled　her　eyes；　even　more　bored　and　annoyed　now　that　the　show　was　under　way。　

？Who？s　Aaron？？　Sonny　whined　to　Chuck　Bass。　

？The　fuck　if　I　know；？　Chuck　answered　back。　

？Is　that　supposed　to　be　Aaron　Sorkin？　You　know；　the　television　writer？？　a　bewildered　
fur…wearingVogue　editor　asked　her　neighbor。　

？Whoever　he　is；　he？s　one　lucky　dude；？　said　a　photographer。　

？I　heard　he　dumped　her。　I　guess　she？s　trying　to　win　him　back；？　Isabel　snickered　to　Kati。　

？Well；　don？t　look　now；　but　I　think　that？s　him；　and　he　looks　pissed；？　Kati　hissed　back。　Both　girls　
turned　to　stare。　


Serena　blew　Aaron　a　kiss　from　the　runway；　but　Aaron　was　too　busy　feeling　hot　and　embarrassed　
about　her　T…shirt　to　even　notice。　He？d　thought　Serena　would　be　nervous　walking　the　runway　with　
all　those　supermodels。　He？d　thought　she？d　need　his　moral　support；　but　it　was　pretty　obvious　she　
was　having　the　time　of　her　life。　She　probably　got　a　thrill　out　of　hearing　everyone　in　the　tent　
whispering　her　name。　Not　him。　Sure；　he　wanted　to　be　famous？a　famousrock　star　。　Not　famous　for　
being　the　boy　on　Serena？s　I　LOVEAARONT…shirt。　

He　reached　in　his　coat　pocket　and　pulled　out　his　half…empty　tin　of　herbal　cigarettes。　Before　he　
could　even　open　the　tin；　a　security　guard　put　his　hand　on　his　shoulder。　

？No　smoking　in　the　tents；　sir。？　

Fuck　this；Aaron　mumbled　under　his　breath。　But　he　couldn？t　just　get　up　and　leave　while　Serena　
was　still　onstage。　He　glanced　at　Blair　in　the　seat　next　to　him。　She　was　biting　her　lip　and　clutching　
her　stomach　like　she　had　gas　or　something。　

Blair　wanted　to　cover　her　diamond…studded　ears　to　block　out　the　sound　of　everyone　whispering　
Serena？s　name。Those　eyes！　Those　legs！　That　fantastic　hair！　It　was　pletely　nauseating；　and　the　
after…party　was　bound　to　be　just　more　of　the　same。　As　soon　as　Serena　skipped　down　the　runway　
path　marked　TOGRANDMOTHER？SHOUSEand　off　the　stage　to　change　outfits；　Blair　stood　up　to　
go。　

？I　think　I？m　going　to　take　off　before　the　snow　gets　too　fucking　deep；？　she　announced　to　Aaron。　

？Yeah？？　Aaron　jumped　to　his　feet。　？I？ll　help　you　find　a　cab。？　Serena　didn？t　need　him　around。　
She？d　probably　be　so　surrounded　by　admirers　during　the　after…party；　he　wouldn？t　even　get　a　
chance　to　see　her。　She　wouldn？t　mind　if　he　just　quietly　took　off。　

Outside　in　Bryant　Park　the　snow　was　already　ankle　deep。　The　lion　statues　on　the　steps　of　the　
public　library　looked　even　larger　and　more　menacing　blanketed　in　white。　

？Think　I？ll　just　hop　a　train　up　to　Scarsdale；？　Aaron　said；　referring　to　the　Westchester　suburb　
where　he？d　lived　with　his　mom　before　deciding　to　move　in　with　his　dad？s　new　family　in　the　city　
last　fall。　He　flicked　open　his　Zippo　and　lit　an　herbal　cigarette。　？My　buddies　and　I　always　get　
together　out　on　the　golf　course　when　there？s　a　big　storm　like　this。　It？s　a　good　time。？　

？Sounds　like　a　fucking　blast；？　Blair　replied　disinterestedly。　

Fat；　frozen　flakes　of　snow　landed　on　her　mascara…coated　lashes　and　she　squinted　her　eyes；　
burying　her　hands　in　her　black　cashmere　Les　Best　evening　coat　pockets　as　she　searched　for　a　
cab。Fuck；　it　was　freezing。　

？Want　to　e　with　me？？　Aaron　offered；　even　though　Blair　had　been　a　total　bitch　lately。　They　
were　still　stepbrother　and　stepsister？they　could　at　least　try　to　be　friends。　


Blair　grimaced。　？No；　thanks。　I？m　going　to　call　this　man　I　met。　See　if　he　wants　to　meet　me　
somewhere　for　a　drink　or　something。？　She　loved　how　the　wordman　sounded　so　much　more　
sophisticated　thanguy　。　

？Whatman　？？　Aaron　asked　suspiciously。　？Not　that　old　dude　from　Yale　you　were　with　last　night？？　

Blair　stamped　her　feet　to　keep　her　toes　from　getting　frostbitten　inside　her　
totally…wrong…for…the…weather　Les　Best　Mary　Janes。　Why　did　Aaron　always　have　to　act　so　
infuriatingly　superior？　？First　of　all；　I　could　be　meeting　someone　else。　Second　of　all；　what　do　you　
care　anyway？　And　third　of　all；　if　it　is　him；　sowhat　？？　She　flung　her　hand　in　the　air　and　waved　it　
impatiently。　It　was　only　nine。　Where　the　hell　were　all　the　fucking　cabs？　

Aaron　shrugged。　？I　don？t　know。　I？m　just　guessing　he？s　like　some　big　investment　banker　who　
gives　lots　of　cash　to　Yale；　and　you？re　flirting　with　him　or　whatever　because　you　want　to　get　in　so　
badly。　Which　is　pretty　lame　if　you　ask　me。？　

？Actually；　I　didn？t　ask；？　Blair　snapped　back。　？But　maybe　Ishould　listen　to　Mr。　
Accepted…Early…At…Harvard…Even…Though…All…I…Do…Is…Sit…Around…In…My…Underwear…Drinking…B　
eer…And…Pretending…I…Play…In…A…Really…Cool…Band…Which…Actually…Sucks；　since　you　obviously　
know　everything。？　A　taxi　screeched　to　a　stop　at　the　corner　of　Forty…third　Street　to　let　someone　out。　
Blair　made　a　dash　for　it。　？Don？t　fucking　make　judgments　about　something　

you　know　nothing　about！？　she　shouted　at　Aaron；　before　jumping　

into　the　cab　and　pulling　the　door　shut。　

Aaron　shivered　in　his　thin　cotton　jacket　and　hunched　his　shoulders　into　the　bitter　wind　as　he　
walked　east　on　Forty…second　Street　to　Grand　Central　Station。　It　would　be　good　to　just　hang　with　
the　guys　for　a　change。　Women　were　a　monumental　pain　in　his　vegan　ass。　

But　we？re　oh；　so　worth　it？right？　

way　better　than　naked　

Dan　tried　not　to　stare　at　the　models　as　they　came　out　onto　the　runway　during　the　Better　Than　
Naked　show　wearing　only　pleated　brown　corduroy　miniskirts　with　no　tops　on　at　all。　Their　skirts　
were　so　short　he　could　even　see　the　frilly　white　panties　they　were　wearing　underneath；　which　
happened　to　be　little　girls？　vintage　underwear　from　the　nineteen…fifties　and　fit　so　snugly　on　the　
models　that　their　butt　cheeks　were　busting　out　of　them。　Instead　of　sitting　down　in　the　front　row；　
where　Rusty　Klein　had　managed　to　snag　him　a　seat　between　Stevie　Nicks　and　superhip　


performance　artist　Vanessa　Beecroft；　Dan　stood　at　the　back　of　the　Harrison　Street　Club；　clutching　
his　black　leather…bound　notebook　and　trying　to　look　writerly　in　case　Rusty　Klein　was　somewhere　
nearby　and　was　secretly　studying　him。　

The　show　was　set　to　strange　German　folk　music　and　there　was　straw　scattered　on　the　runway。　
Little　boys　with　blond　pageboy　haircuts　wearing　lederhosen　led　bleating　white　goats　around　by　
leather　leashes　as　impossibly　tall　models　stomped　by　them；　their　bare　breasts　bobbing。　

Bestiality；　Dan　scribbled　furtively　in　his　notebook。　The　goats　were　crapping　all　over　the　place　
and　he　noticed　that　the　hems　of　the　models？　skirts　had　been　shredded　on　purpose。　

Tears　were　drawn　on　their　cheeks　in　iridescent　blue　eye　pencil。Ruined　milkmaids　；　Dan　wrote；　
trying　not　to　feel　pletely　out　of　place。　What　the　hell　was　he　doing　at　a　fashion　show　anyway？　

The　twenty…something…year…old　brunette　next　to　him　leaned　over　and　tried　to　read　what　he　was　
writing。　？Who　are　you　with？？　she　demanded。　？Nylon？Time　Out　？？　She　was　wearing　pointy　
rhinestone…studded　glasses　fastened　old…lady　style　to　a　gold　chain　around　her　neck　and　had　the　
thickest　bangs　Dan　had　ever　seen。　？Why　aren？t　you　seated　with　press？？　

Dan　closed　his　black　notebook　before　she　could　read　any　more。　？I？m　a　poet；？　he　said　
importantly。　？Rusty　Klein　invited　me。？　

The　woman　didn？t　seem　that　impressed。　？What　have　you　published　lately？？　she　asked　
suspiciously。　

Dan　tucked　his　notebook　under　his　arm　and　smoothed　down　his　new　set　of　sideburns。　One　of　the　
goats　had　gotten　loose　and　jumped　off　the　runway。　Four　security　guards　ran　after　it。　？Actually；　one　
of　my　more　recent　poems　is　in　this　week？s　issue　ofThe　New　Yorker　。　It？s　called　？Sluts。？？　

？No　way！？　the　woman　gushed　in　a　loud　whisper。　She　pulled　her　lavender　leather　Better　Than　
Naked　tote　bag　into　her　lap　and　retrieved　her　copy　ofThe　New　Yorker　。　Flipping　through　it；　she　
turned　to　page　forty…two。　？You　don？t　understand。　I　read　this　poem　over　the　phone　toall　my　
girlfriends。　I　can？t　believe　you　wrote　it。？　

Dan　didn？t　know　what　to　say。　This　was　his　first　encounter　with　an　actual　fan　and　he　felt　
simultaneously　embarrassed　and　thrilled。　？I？m　glad　you　liked　it；？　he　replied　modestly。　

？Liked　it？？　the　woman　repeated。　？It　changed　my　life！　Would　you　mind　signing　this　for　me？？　she　
asked；　thrusting　the　magazine　into　his　lap。　

Dan　shrugged　and　retrieved　his　pen。Daniel　Humphrey　；　he　scribbled　just　beside　his　poem；　but　his　
signature　looked　a　little　plain　and　impersonal　so　he　added　a　squiggly　little　flourish　underneath　it。　
He？d　scribbled　over　a　few　lines　of　the　Gabriel　Garcia　Rhodes　story；　which　seemed　kind　of　like　
sacrilege；　but　who　really　cared；　when　he？d　just　signed　his　first　autograph。　He　was　famous？a　real；　


genuine　writer！　

？Thank　youso；　so　much；？　the　woman　said；　taking　the　magazine　back。　She　pointed　to　his　
notebook。　？Now　you　go　ahead　and　keep　writing；？　she　whispered　reverently。　？Forget　I　bothered　
you。？　

German　folk　music　morphed　into　opera　and　the　little　boys　left　the　runway　leading　their　goats。　
Models　floated　in　wearing　long　black　wool　capes；　peacock　blue　suede　thigh…high　boots；　and　
ostrich　feather　headdresses。　They　looked　like　characters　out　of　aLord　of　the　Rings　sequel。　

Dan　flipped　open　his　notebook　and　began　to　write。Good　and　bad　witches；　he　scribbled。Hunting　
hungry　wolves　。　He　bit　the　end　of　his　pen　and　then　added；Wish　I　could　smoke　a　fucking　cigarette　。　

vposes　as　a　poser　

For　her　appearance　at　the　Culture　of　Humanity　by　Jedediah　Angel　show　at　Highway　1　in　Chelsea；　
Vanessa　broke　her　tradition　of　wearing　only　black　and　borrowed　Ruby？s　red　scoop…neck　top　with　
three…quarter…length　sleeves。　It　was　the　same　top　she？d　worn　once　before　and　gotten　a　lot　of　
pliments　on；　probably　because　it　was　so　low　it　revealed　her　soft；　pale　cleavage　and　a　hint　of　
her　black　lace　bra。　Vanessa　had　arrived　late　because　her　sister　had　insisted　she　take　a　cab；　and　of　
course　the　cab　had　gotten　stuck　in　the　snow　near　Union　Square。　While　the　driver　yelled　at　the　
towing　pany　on　his　cell　phone　with　Lite　FM　blaring　from　the　speakers；　Vanessa　had　jumped　
ship。　When　she？d　finally　made　it　to　the　club；　her　ears　had　been　frozen　solid　and　she？d　looked　like　
a　walking　snowball。　The　fashion　show　had　already　started　and　she？d　been　sure　they？d　turn　her　
away　at　the　huge　garage　door　that　served　as　an　entrance；　but　when　she？d　given　her　name　to　the　girl　
at　the　door；　a　security　guard　with　a　flashlight　had　been　appointed　to　personally　escort　Vanessa　to　
her　seat　in　thecenter　of　thefront　row　。　The　chair　had　a　card　taped　to　it　with　
CHRISTINARICCIcrossed　out　in　black　marker　and　VANESSAABRAMSwritten　in　instead。　
Vanessa　had　never　felt　so　special　in　all　her　life。　

The　room　was　dark　except　for　burning　white　foot…high　candles　lining　the　runway　on　either　side。　
Models　dressed　in　navy　blue　above…the…knee　sailor　dresses　with　white　piping　and　gold　buttons　at　
the　lapels　held　foghorns　to　their　lips　as　the　sound　of　a　terrible　storm　at　sea　boomed　out　of　the　
sound　system。　The　white　wall　behind　the　runway　was　lit　with　a　single　spotlight；　and　on　that　wall　
was　projected　the　New　York　film　essay　Vanessa　had　sent　to　NYU。　The　film　was　black　and　white　
and　it　took　on　a　sort　of　nineteen…forties　classiness　paired　with　the　models？　sailor　dresses。　And　even　
though　everyone　there　seemed　to　be　taking　this　whole　bogus　fashion…at…sea　thing　way　too　
seriously；　Vanessa　had　to　admit　it　was　pretty　cool　to　see　her　film　up　there　in　lights。　

The　wafer…thin　woman　next　to　her　flipped　open　her　PalmPilot　and　typed　in；Brilliant　backdrop　；　
with　a　long　red　fingernail。　She　was　wearing　an　ID　tag　on　her　camel…colored　cashmere　sweater　with　


the　wordVogue　printed　on　it；　and　her　brown　hair　was　cut　in　a　short　bob　with　thick；　
bronze…highlighted　bangs。　She　cont