#front row are the models

[maximura]

[alexinafan]

Alexina Graham attends The Daily Front Row's 11th Annual Fashion Media Awards at The Rainbow Room on September 6, 2024 in New York, New York, USA.

[jonesssee]

[kuppikahvia]

[front-row-at-dior]

Alton Mason @ Balmain Menswear Spring 2023

[littlequeenies]

Sunday September 17, 2023 - Ringo Starr's daughter Lee Starkey (wearing glasses) with her sisters-in-law Flora Evans Starkey (red trousers) and Sshh Starkey (born Sharna Liguz, wearing sunglasses), and her 14-year-old daughter Ruby Tiger Mehler sitting in the front row at Pam Hogg's Spring/Summer 2024 collection at London Fashion Week. It was dedicated to the late Sinéad O'Connor.

The following photos are from Fab UK magazine:

More here (I've contacted for permission, I am waiting).

[alesso42]

[unes23]

Candice Swanepoel by Eduardo Bravin for The Daily Front Row

[modelsoffthecatwalk]

[ev1lmorty]

classes should never be 3 hrs. the fact they make 3 hr classes is crazy. crazier at art school where u have to draw in public in front of everyone too. for 3 hrs. every class i want to kill myself

[yours-stevie]

Gorgeous 🖤

[alexinafan]

Alexina Graham attends The Daily Front Row's 7th annual Fashion Media Awards at The Rainbow Room in New York on 5th September 2019

[fashionn0stalgia]

Erin Wasson circa 2010

[front-row-at-dior]

Future @ Boss Menswear Spring 2023

[luxuriascloset]

Jade Thirlwall at Fendi Spring 2025 Ready-To-Wear Collection

[rayveneyed]

sukuna ryomen is somewhat of an infamous bachelor.

it’s not surprising to see him with a new beau every few months, if not weeks — almost trope-like in their frequency, his image bouncing between playboy and manwhore. he doesn’t take it personally, and he makes sure to let people know: he’s young and sexy and he has two oscars, for fuck’s sake, so he thinks the world can cut him some slack when he wants to mess around. and mess around he does.

between obvious paparazzi shots of panties tucked badly into his back pocket, and instagram posts with fellow actors and models pressed tightly against his chest, most are divided between thinking it’s either damn good pr, or a simple man living a life most would wish for. regardless, nobody is surprised when sukuna arrives alone at the mugler show for paris fashion week, and leaves with someone on his arm.

the only thing that came as a bolt from the blue was that it was you hanging from him.

the photos are undeniable, a story in parts; sukuna finding his seat in the front row, you on one side and kendall jenner on his other. his eyes drifting from the models to your face, as if taking a clandestine peek. you, meeting his underhanded gaze with a smile as sweet as spun sugar — and, gasp, sukuna returning it. the display is so out of character for him it feels almost voyeuristic to see it plastered all over twitter.

you, with your vintage, girl-next-door-esque image, big hair and big eyes and demure, calf-length hems, a voice that evokes the memory of helen forrest or ella fitzgerald. him, with his smudged eyeliner and tattoos and all-black attire, persistently typecasted as the panty-dropping bad-boy or devil-smiled brute. it shouldn’t work. for all intents and purposes, he should be spotted with a new supermodel the next week, leaving you in the dust of his philandering. most expect it, wait for the other boot to drop — expect an album of heartbreak from you, but—

a month passes. and another, and another. and suddenly sukuna ryomen, notorious rake, is photographed backstage at your shows. suddenly there’s an anklet hanging from your ankle, his initials in garnet. it’s early morning paparazzi pictures of you both in sweatpants and hoodies — yours, suspiciously oversized — one of his hands engulfing yours, the other holding a bag of takeout from a local breakfast spot, a lit cigarette in his mouth. hickies on your neck and a shit-eating grin on sukuna’s face. candid snaps taken at intimately sized parties, with his chin hooked over your shoulder and his large hands cupping your stomach. tiktoks of you both on the red carpet in the background of somebody else’s interview, sukuna leaning in close to brush an eyelash from your cheek.

neither of you confirm anything, but then — you don’t need to, do you?