The big broadcast in fire sale prose about the sheet that shakes and soothes 14th Street, with the pitch hitting the hi-style peaks and piques in the lives of those in the biz, the Beautiful People who often as not get it, and the beleaguered gurus of the Midi disaster. ""Today Women's Wear Daily stands at the top of its class. . . it is a ver-r-y private school and WWD is. . . the single member of the class."" And ver-r-y soon after some mock-ups about the Fairchilds pere and fils, and that ""hardnewsed"" Brady's office Bunch, you'll hear how the Lone Star of the fashion industry ""fell on its ass"" over the B(onnie) and C(lyde) look and faces dipped to below the knee. (""But then, even Christ was ahead of his time, folks."") Then on to a glossary of WWD's in-dubs (""Her Drear"" -- Princess Margaret; ""Her Goodness"" -- Pat Nixon; und so wider and broader). There's a capriciously evaluative round-up of top designers and their reps, and BP in and out of favor. (""What if Gloria and Wyatt got sick of patchwork?"") There's a section on the Union (the one that counts), the big three of the fashion press (Curtis, Sheppard, Knickerbocker) and the inevitable twitter about homosexuality. A water-cooler report about the rag that knows about every new wrinkle and where the Elite meet to get the Treatment. Whew! Like the basement on GW's Birthday -- a wholesale clearance of doubtful marginalia -- but it's fun while your patience lasts.