Dressed to the Nines, Demanding Residuals

Oh, man. New York magazine isn't doing the Writers Guild any favors with this article by socialite and self-described "Voguette Plum Sykes.

Sykes, you see, is a screenwriter of sorts, thanks to an in-the-works adaptation of her novel The Debutante Divorcee. Recently, she hit her walk-in closet en route to the picket line:

I wake on picket day to chilly gales and big, fat, icy raindrops. I glumly resign myself to wearing a Burberry trench and nasty J.Crew Wellingtons with dogs printed on them. I'm about to leave when Delia Ephron, Nora's sister and a fellow writer, calls to wish me luck on the picket line. "I made six new friends," she yelps. "It's the best party in New York right now!" Newly insecure, I immediately change into a brand-new gray merino-wool Martin Margiela turtleneck sweater and chunky high leather boots from Veronique Branquinho. Some warmth is provided by my sharply tailored Alexander McQueen fur-lined suede jacket with enormous hoops of fox fur at each cuff. The look is fashion girl meets snowbunny.

Remember: Not all WGA members wear "arty glasses and fancy scarves" and earn $200,000 a year. Some of them wear Alexander McQueen and make way more than that.