Fashion week

Here in Pittsburgh, every week is fashion week. And, mostly, the fashion is bad.

Seriously. If you are Downtown, Monday through Sunday, you will see very oversized bad baggy pants.

Also, lots of white tennis shoes.

There will be dangerously overstfuffed backpacks.

Yards, yards and more yards of jeans, fake-faded, fake-torn, fake-wrinkled; basically fake. Oh and they will be hanging down. Know what I mean?

Also, lots of sweatpants. Throw in a few hoodies.

Occasionally, a nice coat and shoes.

Today, I ran errands in a pair of jeans, tennis shoes, grey long sleeved top, silk scarf and tailored black cashmere gloves. For dinner with my husband, I upgraded to a dark gray skirt, matching light gray knit top nylons and pumps. Nice, right? Not too fancy.

Except at dinner at a very nice steakhouse, we were the best-dressed. Even the wait staff was better clad than their customers.

I wonder: Is it worth taking my time to do something nice if someone else has the same opportunity and just says "F--k it. I can't be bothered"?

Let me reflect a moment.


Reflecting.


Still reflecting



So, yeah.

I am never, ever, going to walk into a nice steakhouse in jeans an tennies and act like its OK. Not happening.

After we left the good food-ugly clientele restaurant, we walked past the skaters at the PPG Ice Rink Downtown.

And right here, thank you New York Times, street photography of FW,