A Letter from the Editor,

A season for all things is perhaps, the most greatly touted phrase of our age. We accept the passing of such seasons, our time to be born, our time to die, with supposed placidity.

It can be assumed that the glorifiers of that phrase do not work in fashion.

Here there is a season for all things, each as brief and unforgiving as a micro-mini, each with its own requirements and punishing schedule. If you outlive your season there are any number of people waiting to inform you that your time is over, that camel is no longer chic, and that you are too old to be participating in their world.

It has been said by 'those people' whoever they are, that I am too old to be editor in chief of this magazine.

Like those who say the trench coat went out of style ten years ago, these people are wrong.

It is however, the end of my season, and I am incredibly grateful that it came at a time of my choosing, a time in which I am ready to set aside my controlling interest of the company and retire myself to the slower realms of business.

In short, I am glad that I can now acquire some comfortable clothing, and sample the delights of sugar, cream and domesticity more fully than I have done for years.

This is, I'm sure, unorthodox for this column, as I usually have an intern write it for me. But I took the time for this particular issue, the celebration of Mode's unparalleled success against its competitors, to indulge myself in introspection and metaphor.

Little remains to be said, and so in the remaining space I would like to congratulate my unwary successor. I apologise for the secrecy, but I was assured by my significant other that is would be 'hilarious' if I were to announce it in this way.

So, congratulations Gabriel.

This year you shall definitely get to go to Paris.

Sam raises his eyebrows and looks over at his boyfriend, still curled in the foetal position on the bed next to him.

"Huh." He says, looking down at the page again. "so...this is a good thing, right?"

Gabriel bursts upright from the mattress.

"It's a trap!" he exclaims, "It's...way too nice to be him...but..." he grins wildly. "If I get to be editor in chief, at Mode? That's. Awesome." He practically vibrates with excitement. "First issue? 'The Fall of Runway."

"Isn't that a little petty?"

"Castiel couldn't be petty – but I can...it'll be like my retirement gift to him." Gabriel waves excitedly. "I'm going to title it – 'Suck it Balthazar – We knew he'd win'."

Sam sighs, wondering if Castiel knows what he's unleashed upon the world by making Gabriel's ambitions a reality.

Though, knowing what he does of Dean's post-retirement plans for his former boss...Sam doesn't think he'll mind.

Or even notice.