I don’t know if I’m a hot hormonal mess or if they inject a drug into the air of fashion shows, but i cry every. single. time. It’s not about the clothes. I mean, it IS - but… it’s more the atmosphere. The clothes will inspire dreams for days, but I don’t get choked up trolling Style.com. (most days..) It’s, like, the smell or something.

Consider this moment from the finale of Marc by Marc F/W ‘11 a spritz of sensory perfume.

And yes, my hands were shaking. Deal.