The best way I can describe fashion week to anybody who has never experience the event is that it is like an outrageous Broadway show, the most fabulous party on earth equipped with velvet ropes and a VIP guest list. Actually, besides the VIP guest list, this is clearly untrue. Fashion shows are the way that designers show off their creations they have been slaving over for the past 8 months. I don’t blame them for putting on a show. But the reality? It is more like pledging a sorority in that you are constantly being judged by the way you look. Will you get snapped by street style photographers? And more importantly, is what you’re wearing even relevant?
Oh yeah, yellow is Hot again.
Fashion Week, through all the glamour and beauty, is kind of a mixed bag. At times I question myself in ways that I haven’t since I was an awkward teenager. It’s so easy to caught up in the frenetic nature of the industry, but I’ve found comfort this week in the friendships I have here in New York, and the support of my family and friends.
Today on The Fashion Hunter, I have shown actual in reality what Fashion Week is really like. You might find yourself, like I did, in one of the following scenarios.
Scene #1. You have been admitted to a show with only a Standing ticket. You may or may not have the chance to grab a seat depending on the capacity of the show and sit down claiming a chair after standing for multiple hours in heels. So you sit down when said show begins when the non front row fixture person next to you says, “that seat is saved.” Dude, the show started. Grade for rudeness? D. Etiquette from the PR people? B+. Most often, they feel your pain except when they don’t let you in at all because you’re just not on the LIST.
Scene #2. Show ends and you politely ask if anybody wants to share a cab to Lincoln Center. Caddy giggly girls in elevator respond. “No, sorry we have five people already.” Understandable? Yes. Did I expect anything else? No. Different girl emerges from same elevator and asks me if I want to jump into her car for a free ride? Grade? A+. You never know whom you might meet in New York. I have met plenty of other connections in past Fashion weeks sharing taxis. It”s all about your vantage point.
Scene #3: At a rooftop party and somebody comes over to you and comments how much they like your jacket. He then proceeds to invite you to the Y3 show and you’re so thankful even if it’s a Standing seat and you spend $25.00 getting home. Grade? A.
Scene #4: Day 5 of fashion week and you have blisters all over your feet from wearing five-inch and up heels without a break. You buy foot wrap, way better than Band-aids even though these Paul Frank ones are super cute.
Scene #5: You neglect everything in your life including your partner and kids. Constantly hungry/exhausted/overworked mom, a home cooked dinner or my gracious presence is not an option. Instead, constant texting with my kids takes over. What takes the cake? Daughter steps up to the plate and hand delivers me my Birkenstocks at some crazy hour. Food consumed besides iced coffee and occasional granola bars? C. Daughter? A+.
Scene #6: Much like any other big event, it’s all about keeping grounded during the chaos. I’ve learned it never hurts to be nice to everybody, we’re all in the same boat. The fashion week madness, after all, ends. And life returns to normal. Did anybody miss me?
And in case you don’t attend fashion week, or want to hear more about fashion and the idiosyncratic nature of these beasts, grab Simon Doonan’s latest book The Asylum. Doonan, the creative ambassador for Barneys New York, tells the real-life stories of glamorous madness and stylish insanity from a true insider’s point of view. Can’t wait to grab this. Grade? NA
Also on my reading list? Man Repeller: Seeking Love, Finding Overalls. Just started reading this, but I can totally relate to her wild and crazy fashion escapades. Grade? I’ll keep you posted, but looks like a winner.
Have a great weekend! xx
photo: jim d’angelo