Because the fashion industry loves skeletal, cocaine-addicted women more than life itself. So of course, Lindsay Lohan showed up because hey, it’s a week full of cocaine, celebrity worship and poorly-guarded designer clothing. Repeat that three times in a mirror and she will show up and offer to suck your dick if you put her in your movie. Anyway, Lindsay showed up to Fashion week, and according to New York Magazine, every single journalist there went completely and totally fucking insane.
[…] a platinum-and-orange waif in tiny trousers, massive shades, and hypnotically puffy lips burst forth from backstage, hustling to a front-row seat with ruthless efficiency (and several security guards). For one glorious, confusing moment, we — and, we later learned, everyone in the rows around us — thought this walking creamsicle had to be Donatella Versace. Then, the entire room full of journalists sat ramrod straight and let out excited, disbelieving, four-letter expletives as we all realized this was actually Lindsay Freaking Lohan. We then simultaneously commenced trying to figure out if she was wearing pants. (They were shorts. Small ones. Very, very small ones.) The take-home here for Lindsay should be that we all initially mistook her for somebody much crispier who is thirty years her senior, but we suspect instead she will mentally gloss over that part and focus only on how fast the crowd of blasé, already-burned-out fashionistas whipped out their smartphones and overloaded AT&T service. One photographer even went so far as to walk down onto the runway — which we’d been expressly forbidden to do, given that it was mirrored — and get in her face to take a photo, prompting event organizers to confiscate both his camera (which looked more expensive than her extensions) and his credentials, which they ripped from his neck with soap-operatic verve. The room applauded, led by Lindsay herself, as she settled into her seat between a shell-shocked-seeming Leigh Lezark — we feel you, Leigh — and Lindsay’s companion, who is either a Johnny Depp superfan or an actual pirate.
So basically, everyone thought that Lindsay was actually Donatella Versace, who isn’t so much a woman as she is what happens when saline, botox, silicone and melanoma bond together and become sentient. And then when they figured out who she actually was (hint: not someone with a profitable fashion line) proceeded to go apeshit over her to the point where they stormed the stage. Are these the same guys who stormed Kim Kardashian and Pauly D? Because that would explain everything here.
