It's the last Friday of NY Fashion Week, a dirty, gray day that frames exhaustion perfectly.
Kim has one last show to go before taking an evening flight back to Europe and here she is trapped in one of the most frighteningly claustrophobic settings she had ever had to shoot in.

She is in a  East Village studio the size of most broom closets and to complicate matters, every square inch of the walls are covered  with the kind of bric- a-bac and debris that spells "Unhealthy Obssesion" . This is beyond pack rat. This is too much and sure enough, the tears explode.
I feel terrible, as does the entire crew and I totally understand her frustration. For more than 20 something fashion shows now, all week long, Kim   has been stripped, picked, prodded and pushed out another long white runway that must begin to feel like  a long dark treadmill.