Any front row habitué will tell you, after many a stirred martini, that getting one's derrière on a front row seat is a socio-economic coup. There is a delicious reciprocity between designer and (front-row) designate. After all, it's a fashion truism that luxury needs women to desire. But more importantly, having beautiful women sit on the front row makes luxury desirous. So for better or worse, designers and their PR posse find it utterly convenient to pigeonhole the stylish sisterhood in order to facilitate the process of approval or elimination for the front row seats. So here's how you can snag your share of the limelight!

Mind your Front Row Ps!
POISE: noun; great coolness and composure under strain.
Whether it's a sulky pout whose faux melancholia exudes a certain War & Peace charm or a seductive Gatsby pose that radiates international glamour, to be fashionably self assured (yet emotionally unsure) is key. Dare you arrive without crimson varnish and opulent rings, legs moisturised to a glamorous sheen, hair and make-up airbrushed with a sweep of nonchalance, and hope to covet that seat? No! Finding the right combination of front row poise and personality is like finding the right foundation for your skin. It can take years before hitting upon the goop that can make you au naturel.

POSEUR: noun; a person who habitually pretends to be something he is not.
If you think it's just the models, think again. The front row habitué is also the owner of the spectator's gaze so it's important to give your best performance. It's well known that sometimes the chameleons on the ramp are overshadowed by those on the front row. So take your pick. Can you be the Animated Flutterby who repeatedly tosses her head and squeals in delight, making the secret that she coos into her neighbour's ear seem utterly delicious and unattainable to the second row enthusiasts? Or are you the Cerebral Stylista whose love for asymmetry, Mary Janes and crochet necklaces is a silent condemnation of Hiltonesque fashion? This may not necessarily mean she can give a discourse on Post Modernist Fashion but she'll certainly point out, very quickly, the last season's LV shoes 'so-o' unbecoming on her best friend. Or are you the Ethnic Clunk? Everything she wears is clunky and clumsy but she wears it with India pride. Overblown gypsy skirt, beads and bindis and enough beaten gold or tarnished silver to fill a full-size bank vault. This one is sometimes seen as a front row hazard (she's usually swathed in yards of fabric) and she's likely to snitch another seat for her favourite nephew who is all of ten years old.