Check out Cathy Horyn’s review of fashion week in the New York Times. She writes:

“In the age of Twitter, the inessential becomes the essential. You sense this reductive pattern in a lot of the spring shows: that designers are trying to crash their collections with a lot of quick, short-term thinking. Meanwhile they are making just as much noise as they did in the past.”

This sage thought grabbed our attention—its wisdom goes beyond the catwalk.

A bitch on a budget can’t afford to succumb to “quick, short-term thinking” when making choices about how to invest her precious and woefully-dwindling resources (and we’re not talking just moola but time and lust—oh-so-easily confused with love—as well).

After all, we’ve become slightly nuts for twitter—it’s such a clever and addictive way of shrinking full-sized thoughts into itty-bitty screen-bites. (Or maybe aborting full-sized thinking into shallow e-commerce networking?) No matter. How else does a modern woman keep up with the instant buzz of the moment?

But a smart B shouldn’t confuse a significant trend (as in something with meaningful, investment-grade, lasting style direction) with instant fad and mindless filler. Remember our inaugural post (just a few days ago) when we talked about editing? Well, if you’re bombarded by a constant barrage of jagged pieces of information, streaming at staggering speed, how will you ever be able to sort and edit the absolute must-haves every bitch needs?

Train your inner bitch. You know those angels and devils always appearing on the shoulders of cartoon characters? What you need is a bitch sitting on your shoulder, clad like a dominatrix, red-lipped and narrow-eyed, cracking her whip whenever you get caught up in useless fads.

…  studded platform gladiator shoes


… puffy-hipped skirts


OK. We know. Fads can be fun, and sometimes it takes a while to know which look really has legs. (Who knew stove pipes could last this long?) Just remember, no big spending gulps on a passing fancy, only little micro-bites allowed. More simply put: no Fendi gladiators, only H&M knockoffs!


(That last one was because we know you secretly like it…)