Cintra Wilson has a fun piece on Salon right now about her first time covering New York Fashion Week (which I think she is actually at on behalf of the NYT as their Critical Shopper):

So I ventured backstage to ask irrelevant questions of the designers and ogle the gorgeous little girls with their hair in curlers: 8-foot-tall high school girls with the bones of model airplanes and the faces of 8-year-old children. Their thighs are the same width as their ankles; their arms no bigger around than a silver dollar. A model named Carly, age 15, quickly became my favorite—an entirely sweet, corn-fed child. She is becoming famous on the runway for jutting out her tiny hips, leaning her shoulder blades to curve at a 30-degree angle over her 6-inch heels, stupefying her already bewildered expression into “someone slipped a Darvon in my Mountain Dew” and stomping down the catwalk looking like a zombie Slovakian sex slave.

Pretty sure the model she refers to is Karlie Kloss, whose signature walk Amy Odell of New York Magazine describes as featuring “a kind of stoned death stare; she moves in slow motion, swaying her head from side to side in such a way that if laser beams were to suddenly shoot out of her eyes—and we suspect they might any minute now—she would obliterate everyone in the first two rows.” Apparently Tyra Banks does not approve of her walk, which you know, makes me kind of really love it without even having seen it.