In the presence of fashion greatness:

Seeing Natalie Portman, Woody Allen, Hilary Clinton and Michael Bloomberg at MoMA and at the Met was already a high for my teeny-bopper self, so I didn't think I could top my celeb-spotting any further. That is, until I stood right next to Anna Wintour, editor of US Vogue, aka the High Priestess of Fashion / the alleged monster-boss from "The Devil wears Prada".

The legend herself was inspecting installation progress for the Met's new Vogue-sponsored show, Anglomania - and get this: without her signature giant shades! In public! *gasp*
Wintour's as tall as me, but has the width of a toothpick. Her bird like frame could not have been bigger than an Italian size 32, which probably translates to a -2 in US sizing. Her waist might be the same size as my thigh. @_@ (Probably why I'd never make it to Conde Nast)

Was amazed that she donned a creamy white cashmere suit (looked like Chanel), with ruffley scarf, matt black tights and dainty Prada strappy sandals, in what was essentially a construction site. How do VIPs remain gleaming, when my black pants are covered in dust?? It must be the mythic aura that repels dirt a la Gandalf in Lord of the Rings III.