I Have Nothing In Common With Male Models

Have you guys seen this adorable male model New York Fashion Week diary? Oh, are you tired of fashion week stuff? Yeah fucking right, bro. You’re tired of fashion week just like you don’t ever ever eat at McDonald’s. You’re probably one of those people that hide their TV in a fancy cabinet. Or worse, say you don’t watch TV and conveniently forget that it’s still a television show even if you watch it on Netflix on your Macbook Pro you told your parents you needed to really develop your portfolio.

You know what this photo diary does for me? It makes me realize like everything else, fashion can really be smoke and mirrors. It’s really just a bunch of young bros cavorting around in like, underwear and other ridiculous outfits, which I’m not all that mad at, but can you imagine? This dude went from slamming beers with his bros and playing football to hobnobbing with designers and hot female models (or hot male models, we don’t judge here at Four Pins), all in his underwear. I mean homie has two, not one, but two photos of him getting a pedicure in the same week. WHAT IS HE DOING IN HIS DOWNTIME TO REQUIRE TWO PEDICURES IN ONE WEEK? Since this guy was kind enough to pull back the curtain on the backstage life of an "up and coming model," I’ve decided to let you guys know what my week was like. (Have you guys ever been described as "up and coming"? Me neither.).

Day 1: Start my day at the office, checking mail and sending out important Four Pins write-ups as I’m the Midwest bureau chief of this whole fucking operation. If there was a photo here, it would be a picture of my bathroom. Because let’s be honest, that’s where I do my better thinking and my best writing. Don’t front like you didn’t come up with your blog's name while taking your morning shit. Or evening shit. I’m assuming we all have slightly different shitting schedules, but you get the point.

Day 2: Check out some runway shows, which really means swearing at my computer because I haven’t updated Flash or Shockwave or something and so the live feeds aren’t loading right. It also means liking and making snarky comments on my Editor-in-chief’s Instagram feed, because he’s actually at these fashion shows.

Day 3: Quick run to Chipotle. Nothing else. I LIVE IN DETROIT, WHAT THE FUCK ELSE SHOULD I BE DOING ON A WEDNESDAY?

Day 4: Completely forget that there are important Industry things going on and write a bunch of posts on some obscure Japanese brand that no one can actually buy. Get a polite email from my boss that maybe these posts are a little too "esoteric." He’s a nice guy, most people would be like, "WRITE SOMETHING I CAN FUCKING PUBLISH, YOU GOON. I KNOW ALL YOU DID YESTERDAY WAS EAT WAY TOO MUCH CHIPOTLE AND PASS OUT. JUST BECAUSE YOU GET THAT SHIT IN A BOWL DOESN’T MEAN YOU CAN EAT THREE ORDERS.

Day 5: Bought a thesaurus at Barnes & Noble. I’ve run out of synonyms to describe collections. I mean how else do you say a runway show was "complete," "told a story," "had strong colors and pattern work," and "that the tailoring was spot on"? Switch to perusing my Twitter timeline and start panning collections, that everyone else is praising of course, as “boring” and that I was "nonplussed" because if anything raises your cred in fashion more than being really good looking, it’s being a piece of shit contrarian. I’M BUCKING SOCIETY AND TRENDS BECAUSE I’M AN INDIVIDUAL, DUH.

DAY 6: This week is almost over, thank god. I'm pretty tired of eating food and sitting in my living room watching T.I. and Tiny. Sidebar, T.I. has a whole football team of kids, I swear. Homie is not shooting blanks. He’s like a fucking sniper or something. He has a nice house and a lot of nice watches too. And he’s friends with Nelly. NELLY! God, I want to be rich or just T.I.

Day 7: Last day of the week and despite bitching about it for six days straight, I’m suddenly surprised by how quickly it’s all over. NO MORE STREET STYLE? HOW AM I GONNA SEE PHOTOS OF PRETTY GIRLS WEARING SNAPBACKS AND MINISKIRTS AT THE SAME DAMN TIME? TOMMY, LIAM, FENIMORE, I FUCKING MISS YOU ALREADY.

So there you have it, the backstage view of my week. I know up until now you were going, “A staff writer for Four Pins? Damn I can’t even imagine what that lifestyle is like. He's probably a cross between Glenn O’Brien’s and Hunter S. Thompson’s.” SMOKE AND MIRRORS, MOTHERFUCKAS. I somehow even convinced Four Pins I know about clothes when everything I know I learned from reading the comments section of A Continuous Lean.

So send your resumes and writing samples in and maybe you too can experience a fashion week that involves being jealous of your friends and simultaneously regretting the amount of Mexican fast food you consume.

  • http:whatthefuckgeb.tumblr.com Geb

    Ay, bruh. Ain’t nothing wrong with consuming unconsumable amounts of mexican consumables

  • http://downatfirststreet.tumblr.com/ Richard

    Yeah, i can very much say that i came up with my blog’s name while on my morning shit taken trip.

  • http://fuckordie.com benji

    skiew!

  • David

    Nothing like seeing all of the clothes you spent too much money for (or, let’s be honest, kissed ass for in ways that are, even in the life of a lowly menswear minion, absolutely reprehensible) the way they are supposed to look. If it’s any consolation (it’s not), having at one point lived in Kansas for 3 years myself, I can tell you it is by sheer cosmic misfire that a guy born with the mental poverty necessary to wear a K-State tee is born this good-looking. And while we’re at it, don’t let anybody tell you otherwise; Chipotle is indeed healthy.