There I was, sidelining the A/W Zadig & Voltaire show with a plethora of bloggers to my right and one of the Olsens to my left, whispering about the luxurious embellished loungewear (sweatpants are a sign of giving up, ladies) and jealously mocking Soo Joo Park's thigh gap. Just as Cecilia Bönström made her way down the end of the catwalk, someone behind me joked about the latest IT bag. I smiled to myself. The bag was already put on hold for me at Barney's and in a few hours it would be mine. But then the unthinkable occurred. Worse than any scuffed vintage Prada flat or spilled Skinny Vanilla Latte. I awaited the Jil Sander Pouch name drop but instead I was thrown a, 'Bottega Veneta' OMG. I slithered to the floor in all my last season slime. I drooled on my blazer. I passed out in a heap of misinformation. As the paramedics carried me out, I heard snickers. 'She used to be so on trend,' they mumbled, 'until we saw her put last seasons JS on hold' I was put on a Harpers Bazaar IV and observed for the next twenty four hours in case of another fashion suicide attempt.