Yesterday's Marc Jacobs show started more than two hours late, because Marc Jacobs is an asshole, as not a single blogger covering this crap failed to point out, even the thoroughly magnanimous Washington Post fashion critic Robin Givhan, who once waited like an hour for us to show up to lunch because Fifth Avenue was shut down for a firefighter funeral. Anyhow! Robin was so pissed she violated her official rule about not blogging when blazingly pissed off:
This is not about me. Ok, it's sort of a about me. This is about my dog. She was sitting at home with her little paws crossed and her tummy growling.
Oh, puppy! As Robin has mentioned more than a few times on her blog, she's an on-time sort of gal in an "I'm soooo sorry, but like, I just got his Patek Philippe watch, and like, I keep mixing up the big hand and the little one?" sort of industry. Which got us wondering! Like, does she actually show up on time for this shit? What, a Pulitzer doesn't get you a seat assignment anymore?
So we emailed:
Yes, I fully admit to being insanely prompt for fashion shows. I turn up at the appointed hour or 5 or 10 minutes thereafter. I'd just rather be sitting and chatting with someone, flipping through a magazine or doing a little work than freaking out on the subway. It also gives me time to hunt down a retailer or someone that I might need to talk to. And I like people watching, so that can be amusing. I'm from the Midwest. We are a prompt people. And for a normal show, I don't mind waiting 20 minutes or so.
But yes, Marc pushed the limit. My poor dog was ready to gnaw on my shoe when I walked through the door!
And maybe that should be a lesson to you, MJ. It's no longer fashionably late when a critic's shoes are put in jeopardy.
Dear Mr. Jacobs, Buy A Watch. [Washington Post]