Larry's New York Fashion Week Awards

Forced Fall/Winter 25 excellence

Hola chicas, it’s your girl Larry Bradshaw reporting live and direct from the fashionista epicenter of the world, New York City aka the city that never ceases to make me weep. Lots of blood as already been spilled on the pod when it comes to the subterranean bar the official menswear calendar, or lack thereof, has set for itself on TF’s home turf with surely more coming later this week as we are on a bit of an amended schedule, so I’ll spare you from any additional posturing (adult-onset scoliosis) and direct finger-pointing (the CFDA).

As simply a unit of time “week” is already incredibly generous. Personally speaking, “48 hours” is probably a better measurement for my staycation adjacent itinerary while James is off saving the planet. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Who doesn’t wanna buttress cheeky four beer lunches with three appointments, two fashion shows and one dinner? Throw in a couple of parties, coffee dates and I guess you technically have a New York minute.

I hope you’re not thinking to yourself that I deliberately smashed through your inbox on some dark Kool-Aid Man shit with a pitcher full of haterade (that comes behind the paywall at the very end). Setting the scene with cold hard facts does not a rage baiter make. Instead, let’s hand out some intel-based hardware of the clothing and lifestyle variety in listicle form since I’m writing this both hungover from the worst Super Bowl I’ve witnessed in my lifetime and a diary would be too on the nose for someone who already called themselves a girl in the first line.