What She Wore During New York Fashion Week – Day One

Beautiful people 2

NEW YORK FASHION WEEK has officially opened and the photogs are out! Starting a day early with the 11 HONORE show at Spring Studios, there were models of all sizes, all shades and all types. My girl, Belle, will be on their catwalk next season for sure! Jumping to the Armory uptown for TOM FORD’s show, for the first time, I didn’t schedule a pitstop to slip into one of his frocks. But everyone else did, from Odell Beckham and Karlie Kloss to Danai Gurira, Courtney Love and make me holla Cam Newton. To be honest, I’m still feeling pissy with Tom. He could have twisted some arms on that museum board last fall. In the meantime though, his presentation had a 70’s disco-ish kind of vibe with platform pumps, rolled and cuffed satin trousers, luscious leathers, fine tweeds, on point tailoring, heavy chains and big jewel-toned furs. Not as glamorous. Not as fussy. But it was all Tom. I’m still pissy. But I love ya, boo.

Winona is wearing BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE                                     Tote by CELINE



Winona is to FASHION WEEK what fireworks are to the 4th of July. The show might go on but without her it sure won’t be the same. Back in the day she was in such high demand on the catwalk that designers were known to adjust their show dates to work around her schedule. And now, as the agency owner with six of the fashion industry’s top models on her roster, they still do! Ah…it’s nice to be on top. But hard as hell to stay there.

She shows up on everyone’s web page and blog site during FASHION WEEK. Covering her fashion choices for the next seven days is just as important as anything happening on the runways so stay tuned. It all starts NOW!


chanel paris ss2019 show

Normally, I don’t do the Paris shows. Falling right before or after Fashion Week in New York, I’m either way too busy or way too wiped out. But this year the timing was right to sneak in a few days. And I’m still stoked! This is the fashion that I miss back home. True couture wear. Like the VALENTINO show. Baaay-beeeee! Head designer PIERPAOLO PICCIOLO took ‘em to school this season! CELINE DION was crying. It was just one stupidly gorgeous gown after the other. And so many sistahs on the runway! Ow! MR. VALENTINO himself was in the front row. I wanted to leap from the balcony and into his lap. And then there was CHANEL. KL wasn’t in attendance. They said he was tired. And I guess so. He wore himself OUT with this collection. It was fan-fucking-tastic. My theory is, if I like the official show shoe, I’m gonna love it all. And the little bootie he showed with everything, from day wear to evening wear, was totally adorbs so I was sold from the very first dress. Now. Back to the Apple! NYFW awaits! SMOOCHES!

On the CHANEL backdrop, Winona is wearing vintage YSL. Boots by Jimmy Choo. Handbag by Delvaux



True to his word, Designer Tom Ford gets Winona a shot at her beloved Hoover Pressley Museum. To help her gain a seat on the board, the WINONA, INC. staff launches a campaign, bringing in Twitter and Instagram love from celebrity pals, great PR for the museum, and even an old flame reappears to up the drama to boiling point level. But in the end hard choices must be made. Can Winona live with her final decision?


Tom Ford comes through! He gets me an interview with the board of the Hoover Pressley Museum. Pulling out the arsenal, I send invitations to five key members for a Sunday brunch at my home. This killer view overlooking Central Park should count for something, right? I hire SWEET BASIL to cater and spend several nights soaking up the museum’s history online. Desi is on various boards around town and he gives me an idea of what to expect. “You know they’re choking on your past, darling. So be honest about it. The drugs. The booze. The scandals. I mean, every nasty little thing you did for twenty years was splashed across the front page of gossip rags all over the world. Own it.”

Winona is wearing Oscar de la Renta


Brunch is served! Slices of brioche french toast, with glazed apples, are an inch thick. The poached salmon is moist and juicy. Everything is presented with great panache and every dish is to die. While the bellinis flow, to loosen things up, I work in a few shady celebrity stories, just to wet their panties a little. On my left, Mazie Porter giggles, shoves a forkful of pork tenderloin into her face and finally asks, “What can you bring to our board, Winona?” I go Humble Hannah on them. Oh so grateful for the opportunity to travel the world and make such rich and valuable connections. But Desi said not to, so I don’t gloss over the ugly shit. Each trip to rehab made the cover of the National Enquirer. Not cute. But Dr. Ing and Atty. Livingston are nodding as I tell my story. I think they get it.


My formal interview with the entire board takes place at the museum. It’s a tough crowd of twelve. But I feel good and when it’s all over, I walk out of their finely paneled conference room confident of my acceptance. I think they’re ready for me. The very next day my staff, Marc, Terri and Curtiss, launch a “Let’s Get Winona Warner on the Board!” social media campaign. They upload several model shots of me from back in the day and within hours the campaign grows legs. Phones are ringing. Calls are coming in from HUFFPOST, PAGE SIX, ESSENCE, FORBES. They all want a statement.

Winona is wearing Ralph Lauren


I contact my girl MICHAELA ANGELA DAVIS to handle the news media. She can go places where my staff just can’t. “Forget about a press release,” she says. “Let’s do an interview!” They don’t call her an image activist for nothing. We shape my statement and agree that taking a full-out knee might not be necessary but how lame would it be NOT to mention my unique spot as potentially the first African-American on the museum board? When the interview hits a few days later, because Michaela is a force, it’s all anyone’s talking about. Marc, in the meantime, is very strategic with his online photo selections. Mick, Ralph, Andre Leon, Anna. But the shot of me from way back when sharing ciggies with Hollywood legend Bette Davis is his favorite. “Those dusty old board queens will collapse when they see this,” he says.


Friends like Tracee, Will, Naomi and SJP come through with hearts, likes and kudos on Twitter and IG. The museum is getting loads of pub, too. It’s wild! Marc comes into my office. He’s got something to show me. My ex, Riccardo Sims has posted a shot of us on Instagram from the MET GALA years ago. He’s tagged both the agency and the museum board. “You’ll never find a brighter gem for your crown,” he writes. Wow. How sweet is that? But look at him. Smooth as silk. Naturally swaggy. And we were so gorgeous together. I really liked him. Scratching my head, I can’t remember what went wrong between us. What happened? How did we go off the rails?

Winona’s gown inspired by Vera Wang                                   Riccardo’s tuxedo is by Armani


My curiosity won’t let me rest. I call Riccardo. And just his hello gives me feels. I thank him for the post on Instagram and ask what he’s been up to. No longer at ATLANTIC RECORDS, he writes fiction now, under a pseudonym. Fiction? I roll my eyes. But swearing me to secrecy, he confesses. “I’m Roman Carlucci.” I gasp and choke on cookie crumbs. He’s laughing. “Are you okay??” But I don’t—I can’t—believe my ears! How does a gracious man like Riccardo Sims conger up such a foul and nasty tale? A pop singer with secrets. Real vicious stuff. But his novel SHOOTING STAR was one of last years’ most popular reads. It stayed on the TIMES best-seller list for twelve whole weeks! “Have dinner with me tomorrow night”, he asks. I have plans…but they are so cancelled.


The traffic on 5th and 31st is at a standstill. I’m twenty minutes late. I abandon the towncar finally and walk the last block and a half to the restaurant HENRY, where Riccardo is waiting. My heart is jumping around in my chest as the maître d’ leads the way to his table. Riccardo stands. Still rocking a suit better than any man I know, his head is bald and his beard is big and bushy. And silvery white. I hardly recognize him. He kisses my cheek. My knees go weak, just like the night we first met at that dumpy club downtown. The tip of his nose brushes along my jaw and earlobe. I feel him inhale, breathing me in.

Riccardo is wearing Cifonelli


We chatter all through dinner. There’s so much to talk about. Afterwards, hopping into a taxi, we head uptown. Sitting close in the back seat, he takes my hand and presses it to his chest. “I’m so glad you called me,” he says. “I think about you often.” We pull up to the COVE LOUNGE on Lenox Avenue in Harlem and take an empty table towards the rear, away from the small pockets of latenighters scattered around. When Riccardo leans in to kiss me, his lips are warm and his beard soft. Oh yes. This is going to happen. He drops two twenties on the table, we leave the club and with our arms wrapped around each other, we walk the few blocks to his brownstone on 128th Street.


One month after the brunch, a letter from the museum arrives. Federal Express. This is it. In the study I pour a victory goblet of wine, open the envelope, unfold the page and — wait. What’s this? I’ve been rejected?? They’re turning me down! Angry tears are this close to spilling over. How. Dare. They? My detective friend, the one I keep on retainer, has collected the goods on several of their upstanding board members. Fat manila folders on my desk are stuffed with arrest reports, mug shots,  affidavits. There’s domestic abuse, prescription drugs, insider trading, statutory rape. And everything kept on the hush-hush with payoffs and bribes. But they’re rejecting me? Oh! I could have their asses for breakfast. One by one. But…

Winona is wearing Rachel Gilbert                           Winona’s study is designed by Alesya Semiletova


There’s Riccardo. Lying in my arms just last night, he reminded me of what derailed us the first time. How did I forget? He traveled a lot for the record company back then and only knew Central Park West Winona. It was a while before he got a good whiff of South Bronx Winona and when he finally did, it flattened him. “I’m not lining up with a bunch of other suckers for you to grind into the dust,” he said. “If you’re still out here collecting scalps, tell me now.” With a sigh, I slide everything back into the folders and file them deep inside the desk drawer. A man like Riccardo you don’t throw away twice. Yep. I’ve decided to ride the monogamy train for awhile. Just me and him. Let’s see where it goes. But I promise you. If things get derailed again, for any reason, those muthafuckas on the museum board will be the FIRST to know! Do you feel me?



Winona is to FASHION WEEK what fireworks are to the 4th of July. The show might go on but without her it sure won’t be the same. Back in the day she was in such high demand on the catwalk that designers were known to adjust their show dates to work around her schedule. And now, as the agency owner with six of the fashion industry’s top models on her roster, they still do! Ah…it’s nice to be on top. But hard as hell to stay there.

She shows up on everyone’s web page and blog site during FASHION WEEK. Covering her fashion choices for the next seven days is just as important as anything happening on the runways so stay tuned. WHAT SHE WORE DURING FASHION WEEK starts now

What She Wore During Fashion Week – The Finale


MICHAEL KORS 10AM show at Pier 17 was a snoozefest. Lots of play-play and very little working woman daywear. That’s always been his deal and you come to expect certain things from certain people, you know? Like back in the day, the ultimate reward for keeping your bod on point was rocking a genuine HERVE LEGER bandage dress that spared no mercy. Their new creative director, CHRISTIAN JUUL NIELSEN, has rebooted and brought it back! His presentation at the NOMAD HOTEL gave me new life! Which I needed later on after the one and a half hour wait for MARC JACOB’s show to start. Because they went with RIHANNA this year to close out NYFW, that bitch stalled his show on purpose. Don’t try and tell me different. And his collection? Childish and way off the beam. Mid-life crisis anyone? RIHANNA hauled us out to the BROOKLYN NAVY YARD for her SAVAGE X FENTY lingerie show. SLICK WOODS, very pregnant in pasties and a harness, was in labor supposedly and while she was tight and still looking pretty fab, some thighs we just didn’t need to see. Are we celebrating cellulite now? Really?? Girlfriend Riri was chilled and beyond during her final stroll. Tight, luscious and altogether yummy, I saw no sign of cheese in the extra LBs she’s carrying.

So there it is, doll. Another NEW YORK FASHION WEEK is done. The London shows start on Friday but without me. I’m staying put. SMOOCHES!

Winona’s handbag is by FENDI                                                            Back to the beginning…   

What She Wore During Fashion Week – Day Five


The weather on Monday was just plain shitty so I blew off the OLSEN twins at 9 AM. They were presenting in their showroom waaaaay downtown but CAROLINA HERRERA’s 10 AM show at the HISTORICAL SOCIETY was just down the street from the condo. No-brainer. The new head designer for the House of Herrera, WES GORDON, is all over the place. Kinda Carolina but then, so NOT. She was in the front row with the fam. Can’t imagine what she was thinking. PHILLIP LIM’s show at ESSEX STREET ACADEMY on the Lower East Side was pretty wet, but lots of young blood was present on that rooftop. Cameras were poppin’. The PROENZA SCHOULER show, just a few minutes away on Wall Street, was denim-heavy and kinda meh. Not a great comeback to New York Fashion Week for the boys. But ANNA SUI at SPRING STUDIOS gave us beautiful patterns and fabrics, funky turbans and the cutest little crochet shorts. I even liked the kitten heels with socks! Before turning it in, I dashed through the little soiree MILES RITCHIE hosted at the PUBLIC last night. He’s so cute but all of those tatts! I couldn’t work with that. He’s better off signing with WILHELMINA. The Finale

Winona is wearing DELPOZO                                         Handbag by ALEXANDER WANG