You?re friends with that Serena chick, right?? Sonny Webster, a lanky boy with jet-black hair streaked with paper-bag-brown highlights asked Chuck Bass as they sat in the second row, waiting for the Les Best show to begin on Friday night. Sonny was the son of Vivienne Webster, a British lingerie designer whose hip-hugging boy shorts were all the rage at the moment. Sonny and Chuck had met in a bar last night and were already fast friends. They were even wearing matching Tods moccasins? dark brown with neon green rubber soles. Very gay urban yachtsman, and extremely impractical for the unprecedented amount of snow that had been predicted for that evening. Chuck nodded. ?She?s appearing naked. That?s what I heard, anyway.? He rubbed his newly toned stomach. ?I can?t wait,? he added halfheartedly. ?See Chuck talking to whatshisname, Vivienne Webster?s totally gay son?? Kati Farkas whispered to Isabel Coates. ?I swear Chuck?s into guys now.? She and Isabel had made it to the front row, just as they?d set out to do. Not because of their completely unnecessary little volunteer effort hanging up NOLOITERINGsigns around Bryant Park but because Isabel?s father, Arthur Coates, was a very famous actor who?d complained that his daughter and her frienddeserved to be in the front row this year because he?d already spent a fortune on Les Best?s entire spring-summer collection. ?I think maybe he?s bi,? Isabel whispered back. ?He?s still wearing that gold monogrammed pinky ring.? ?Yeah,? noted Kati. ?Like that?s not totally gay.? The huge white tent in Bryant Park was packed with fashion magazine editors, photographers, actresses, and socialites. Blondie?s ?Heart of Glass? pounded out of Bose speakers. Christina Ricci sat in the front row on her cell phone arguing with her publicist and defending her decision to come to Les Best?s show instead of Jedediah Angel?s, which was happening downtown at exactly the same time. ?Look, there?s Flow from 45!? Sonny squealed. ?He?s such agod . And there?s Christina Ricci. My mom just got a huge order from her.? As Chuck gazed around the room, looking for more celebs and trying to be seen himself, he spotted Blair about ten seats down in the third row. He blew her a kiss and she smirked back. ?Why are we here again?? Blair yawned to Aaron. Even though she was completely annoyed with Serena these days, she?d decided to come to the show to see if any of Les Best?s autumn collection suited her new image. Now that she was packed into the hot, crowded tent with its overly loud music and overwhelming perfume stench like a twelve-year-old with a general admission ticket at a 45 concert, she honestly couldn?t give two fucks about the clothes or that Serena was the star of the show. It was all Serena needed to prove that she really was the center of the universe. Blair didn?t need to hang out with gorgeous models and camp fashion designers, anyway. She was going to Yale, the premier institution of higher learning in the entire world,and she was going to be asked outvery soon by a classy older man. She felt extremely accomplished for someone so young. The noise and glitz of Fashion Week seemed less alluring now that her own life was so . . .stimulating . Plus they were seated in the third row, which was a major insult when she?d always been seated in the first or second row at every other show she?d ever been to. ?I?m honestly not sure why I?m here,? Aaron answered grumpily. He unzipped the bright green Les Best golfing jacket Serena had given him and then zipped it up again. The jacket was made of stiff cotton canvas that made a loud, swishy sound when he moved. It was way too flashy for his taste, but he?d kept it on because Serena had insisted that he couldn?t come to a fashion show and sit in the third row without wearing an article of the designer?s clothing. Aaron liked the buzzy vibe of the fashion show. It was like being at a rock concert. But it was just so bogus that they were all gathered there to look at . . .clothes . Outside the snow had been falling steadily on the brightly lit city for over two hours. Blair could just imagine how insane it was going to be to find a cab home later that night, with everyone totally underdressed, totally buzzed, and all thinking they deserved the next available ride. She kicked the back of Nicky Hilton?s chair with her black patent leather Les Best flats and yawned for the fiftieth time. While her mouth was still stretched open in full yawn, the lights suddenly dimmed and the music stopped. The show was about to begin. The collection being shown was for next fall, and the theme was Little Red Riding Hood. The stage was decorated like a fairy tale forest, with dark brown velvet tree trunks and low branches covered in glittering emerald green silk leaves. Fluttery flute music began to play, and suddenly 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. ............