For me, New York Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week used to be that magical time of year when I’d remind my more modish friends that invitation was the nominal form of the verb to invite (as in: “I received the invitation,” not: “I got your invite“). Back then, all my grammatically hyper-attuned self knew about those eight days were the cluster-drunk parties that seemed to pervade every square inch of Manhattan — and some of the yachts moored nearby. I watched as waifish editrixes stood with their champagne flutes at half mast, their eyes glazed over with a look that suggested one part dismay, one part blasé, in what I assumed was a contest to see who could strike a more “over it all” pose. How wrong I was. Read more at The Huffington Post.