And this year’s cumulative undisputed winner is Alexa Winner– trollop from Chicago who recently graduated from high school two weekends ago and has already set Manhattan society ablaze.
Kids, let’s admit it, when was the last time you set foot in a gala and you didn’t come across Alexa flexing every sinew in her body for that camera boy? This girl is damn tough and if you ask me she’s on a roll. In fact we even did a feature on her cause we were confused for half a second that she was the next it girl. Well she still may be, but we’ll let you work that out for you.
A stylist by trade (to her credit she did graduate from Parsons) and a media whore consummate (she has managed to get herself written up by every pony ass starved blogger in NYC and has her facebook and twitter account on auto pilot) and the occasional philanthropist (yes kids-her report card says she went to Haiti to help ruined lives).
That said, Alexa has in her slew to get to the top of the food chain created a barrage of hate mail.
Call it stepping on other people’s toes, hogging the step and repeat pony show (please Alexa- you must respect your elders who have already paid their dues and are silently wishing you got very fat or something…) pretending to have her own reality show (yes, this too will somehow one day happen assuming one of her faux guests/producers doesn’t strangle her- email me and I will describe the details in private), and namedropping ad hoc, kissing ass non stop– Alexa is the quintessential step and repeat offender.
With her own cut out and step and repeat cardboard box by her bed (practice makes perfect kids), Alexa is destined to become the next hawt thing in the city or the next biggest laughing scandal?
Our advice to Alexa, don’t be afraid to respect your elders, eat the occasional dollop of carbohydrates and most of all don’t be afraid we’re ignoring you if we don’t pick up the phone to call you or point the camera boy your way.
One day, when Alexa is on her way to Walmart to buy herself another life sized cardboard box to train against (yes kids- even these things wear out after constant use) she will stop to think how she suddenly became the thing jingling in our collective imagination and without quite understanding why she will suddenly drop to the floor and quietly weep hoping against all hope some PMC camera boy rescues her whilst agitated little children near by kick dirt in her face.
“Stop posing while you’re crying bitch…”
Never mind, there will always be another day.
PMC count? A paltry 143. Could it be that even Patrick McMullan can’t stand her either?