Dan tried not to stare at the models as they came out onto the runway during the Better Than Naked show wearing only pleated brown corduroy miniskirts with no tops on at all. Their skirts were so short he could even see the frilly white panties they were wearing underneath, which happened to be little girls? vintage underwear from the nineteen-fifties and fit so snugly on the models that their butt cheeks were busting out of them. Instead of sitting down in the front row, where Rusty Klein had managed to snag him a seat between Stevie Nicks and superhip performance artist Vanessa Beecroft, Dan stood at the back of the Harrison Street Club, clutching his black leather-bound notebook and trying to look writerly in case Rusty Klein was somewhere nearby and was secretly studying him. The show was set to strange German folk music and there was straw scattered on the runway. Little boys with blond pageboy haircuts wearing lederhosen led bleating white goats around by leather leashes as impossibly tall models stomped by them, their bare breasts bobbing. Bestiality, Dan scribbled furtively in his notebook. The goats were crapping all over the place and he noticed that the hems of the models? skirts had been shredded on purpose. Tears were drawn on their cheeks in iridescent blue eye pencil.Ruined milkmaids , Dan wrote, trying not to feel completely out of place. What the hell was he doing at a fashion show anyway? The twenty-something-year-old brunette next to him leaned over and tried to read what he was writing. ?Who are you with?? she demanded. ?Nylon?Time Out ?? She was wearing pointy rhinestone-studded glasses fastened old-lady style to a gold chain around her neck and had the thickest bangs Dan had ever seen. ?Why aren?t you seated with press?? Dan closed his black notebook before she could read any more. ?I?m a poet,? he said importantly. ?Rusty Klein invited me.? The woman didn?t seem that impressed. ?What have you published lately?? she asked suspiciousl............