6:11 p.m. Watching the models model for this unbroken stretch of time has been a devastating psychological challenge, the full repercussions of which will probably not become apparent for several months, and I am relieved to have made it out the other side.

6:12 p.m. Second glass of gratis sparkling wine.

6:13 p.m. While jostling my phone to snap another photo of the models for no reason, I accidentally slosh about half of my second glass of gratis sparkling wine onto the coat and boots of another guest, who, thankfully is facing the other direction. I quickly ghost into the crowd. I whisper: Can’t believe someone sloshed wine on that woman. People are animals. (Animals don’t have thumbs and would therefore have considerable trouble holding a glass of wine without spilling it.)

6:14 p.m. I take one last hard look at the dresses which, it must be said, are sublime; tailored and shimmery and sheer in all the right places, and more beautiful in person than photos convey. If this is what we are going to be wearing in the fall and winter of 2014, we are all going to look truly darling.

6:15 p.m. The quarter hour mark arrives and passes.

6:16 p.m. None of the models make any move to leave the stage.

6:17 p.m. None of the models make any move to leave the stage.

6:18 p.m. None of the models make any move to leave the stage.

6:19 p.m. None of the models make any move to leave the stage.

6:20 p.m. None of the models make any move to leave the stage.

6:21 p.m. Why isn’t anyone leaving the stage?

6:22 p.m. I ask a fellow spectator if she knows how long the presentation is. Her response: “I think this one’s only an hour.”

6:23 p.m. “ONLY AN HOUR.” I FREAK OUT.

6:24 p.m. I get another glass of sparkling wine.

6:25 p.m. I notice that many of the women have subtly rearranged their limbs.

6:26 p.m. Arms that previously hung loose are now propped on hips. Legs are crossed. Elbows are bent so that hands may be brought up to rest delicately against delicate faces.

☛ More Faces: Boxer’s Faces Before And After They Step Into The Ring

6:27 p.m. Some of the women do that thing where you cross one arm across your chest and clutch at the opposite arm’s elbow, which makes them look like bashful tweens at a middle school dance who don’t know they beautiful.

6:28 p.m. I sneak back out to the lobby to get a gift bag (which I see many other people holding) and to remind myself that there exists a life beyond the four walls of the dynamic meeting and event space that is the Great Room at the W New York – Union Square.

6:29 p.m. The gift bag includes a wooden comb, a hairspray, and another hairspray.

6:30 p.m. A model wearing a sheath dress with a green lace overlay begins to sweat so profusely that external forces must intervene. One of the event coordinators–a young woman wearing all black and, for some reason, socks but no shoes–rushes up and hands her a cocktail napkin so that she may dab her glistening forehead while remaining in place.

6:31 p.m. I realize that two of the models standing on the tier behind her are whispering to one another and smirking.

6:32 p.m. I try to catch their eyes to let them know I’m cool too, but they do not look at me, which is fine because I’ll catch you later, girls. Text me where the party is. Or I’ll just figure it out, maybe.

6:33 p.m. OK, catch you later.

☛ More Models: Models Say The Dumbest Shit