This week has been go, go, go. Every time I even think about sitting down to write this, something else pops up. That is the magic of New York and the dream I have always had of Fashion Week.
Leading up to Fashion Week I couldn't stop thinking how this would be the actualizations of so many lifelong fantasies. I have always worked in fashion...it's all I know, and all I ever wanted to do. Fashion Week isn't foreign to me at all. I know the ins and outs of all the magic behind the curtain--the reality of these productions. They're loud and crazy and chaotic with bobby pins flying everywhere and--don't tell anyone--but sometimes the people are downright nasty. But this was the first time I would sit on the other side--the fantasy world so many of us can only imagine seeing, where you sit surrounded by beautiful clothes and picturesque celebrities and gorgeous girls strutting down a runway who couldn't be more immaculately perfect.
So let's talk about the dream vs the reality. There is conversation all the time about Instagram vs real life. We all know by now that so much more is going on than those perfectly curated photo we see, and yet we can't help but think everyone else is living their best life, why aren't I?!?!!! Well, that's what I'm here for folks. I shed light on the reality behind those beautiful moment...I guess it's true, you can take the girl out of backstage, but you can't take backstage out of the girl. 🤷♀️
Naturally, the biggest conundrum leading up to fashion week is what to wear. In my dream scenario I open my closet and with such satisfaction I sift through my designer wardrobe of fine apparel, bags, and shoes. I have collected amazing pieces and there is no better time to wear that insane Balenciaga moment than now. In reality, all those things are in storage and I'm panicking about what to wear while I slowly tell myself over and over, 'Who cares!! You're going to Fashion Week...you'll make do!!'
The night before day 1 I couldn't even sleep (nothing new there). I was like a kid the night before the first day of school, mixed with Christmas, mixed with that woman who just won the lottery. I had a fresh blowout and my outfit was laid out...I couldn't wait to get that baby on. Then I woke up and it was pouring. POURING! 'That's ok. I will make do. Different outfit...don't love it as much...that's ok, it's fashion week' is all I could think to myself. I was making great time on my way to the West Side, thanks to my schedule all planned out, when my driver pulled up and I was like, 'errrr....that doesn't look right...' I double-checked my invitation and yup, the address matched. Check my email, totally different address. Driver melted down...we're talking full blown psychotic episode.
I finally arrived to Pamella Roland soaking wet but sigh 'I made it and I'm here and oh my God I'm here.' When she took her final bow at the end of her show I was so overcome with emotion. See, in my previous life we had Pamella Roland so I am very familiar with her gowns. The design and fabric is always beautiful and they're so well constructed. But, again, it was my job to make sure they sold. This was different. The wet shoes no longer mattered, the messed up hair was insignificant...I had made this happen.
The rest of the day I floated around New York on [a soaking wet] cloud nine. Not the way I dreamt it...but still a dream come true.
Then Day 2 happened. Still sleep deprived I finally fell asleep in the early morning hours. Naturally, I set my alarm for PM instead of AM and way overslept. Like, woke up 20 minutes before I was supposed to leave. Fine if I'm going most places, not fine today! I got it together and halfway through my ride on the subway I give myself a pat on the back that I was making good time...plenty of time to get to Bryant Park. So there I am, picture it, dat dat dat dat daaaah, walking up the subway stairs--on the correct side might I add--checking my map to make sure I'm heading in the right direction, when I take the wheels of a baby stroller to.the.face. My fucking FACE!!! Cussing ensues (so New York) and I carry on my merry little way holding my throbbing face.
'All is okay, I still have a bit of time to spare and it's a gorgeous day so I'm going to have me a little latte in Bryant Park and live the dream. Who cares that my face was just used as a speed bump, nothing a little concealer can't fix...I'm at Fashion Week!!' So there I am, prancing along in my heels, when I catch the cobblestone juuuuust right and eat shit in front of the little coffee shop in the park...you know, only the most populated area. Smack, whack, thud...face first. Scrape down my entire side, shred the toes of both my new suede booties. Skin my knees and ankle and immediately bounce up like Tigger because I don't care if every single bone in my body is broken, like hell am I going to lay there like fashion roadkill.
I hurried to the furthest place I could safely arrive/hide, sat down, and casually tried to feel around to see if I also split my jumpsuit while I did that fantastic swan dive. 'Nope, I don't feel a breeze. I think we're intact--the show must go on.' As the ever-so intelligent Joey Potter of Dawson's Creek once said, 'Dreams aren't perfect. They come true, not free.' Obviously I have suffered a head injury if I'm quoting Joey Potter for inspiration. The dream was coming true, but man was it not how I dreamt it!
The rest of the day continued with only pleasant surprises. Nancy Tran and Concepts Korea, which showed Lie and Greedilous, were both excellent (I will be doing a 'Fashion Week Favorites' separately, so stay tuned for that), and I ran into two LA girlfriends on the street which is always the best.
EDIT: At the time I originally finished this I wrote 'Gotta run! I'm off to try what allegedly are the best tacos in New York...let's see if they live up to the dream' but rather than post it I waited to see. 1. They were incredible! If you find yourself near Chelsea Market, do yourself a favor and go to Los Mariscos. 2. I didn't run because my body is so banged up from that fall I'm moving at a glacial pace.
❤️ Today is September 11th and, like so many of you, it evokes lots emotions. We all have our own stories of that day, and all are equally meaningful. I have spent September 11th in NYC on a couple occasions, and there's always a palpable tenderness and delicacy in the air. Sending my love to you all today, and always. ❤️