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 lo