Sorry for the brief hiatus, I’ve been doing important things like having a job and moving into an apartment and texting a lot of people. But alas I have returned again, with a story of my most recent New York City adventure. Come sit and let me tell you a tale of a far-away land, where beautiful, mystical creatures walk gracefully through our midst, looking forever youthful and shimmering as the lights hit them. No, this isn’t Twilight – sorry vamp-lovers. This is New York Fashion Week. And I was lucky enough to be introduced to this new, beautiful, magical world, feeling as awkward and plain-looking as Bella Swan upon meeting the Cullens, and as hungry as the Cullens when they catch a whiff of human.
New York Fashion Week was something that, to be truly honest with you, I never thought I’d see the inside of. The entire fashion industry just always struck me as something foreign, something so specific that unless you considered yourself “into fashion,” which (Surprise!) I never did, it just wasn’t your scene. To me, the industry was reserved for the tall, the skinny, the poised, and the pretentious. It always seemed like too much arrogance, too much exclusivity, too much dark lipstick. Yet as much as I wanted to feel negatively about it, I was always a bit enraptured with the way New York Fashion Week would take over the city. My PR friends would post Facebook statuses like, “Time for NYFW, see you all in two weeks!” and share Instagram photos of runway models, trendy shoes, or flashy afterparties. It was an alluring scene, a glamourous scene – but it was never my scene.
And yet I found myself a part of it this year. And how did I land such an awesome opportunity? Thanks to blogging. I was perusing the Craigslist ‘writing gigs’ section during my lunch break at work a few weeks back (A common activity – you never know what’s going to pop up there!) and ended up submitting some material for a cool, multi-city lifestyle blog called The Urban Realist. A few days later I was speaking with the Editor in Chief, who is based out of Fort Lauderdale, and was asked if I’d like to attend an event or two for NYFW and write some brief coverage for the blog. An amazing opportunity that came essentially out of nowhere, thanks to a little bit of Craigslist trolling and a 15 minute phone call.
I was thankful to have Jess with me to photograph so that we seemed a little more legit, but overall, the two of us had a blast and agreed that it was a new and amazing experience to be swimming in the fishtank surrounded by these beautiful creatures rather than watching them swim in circles and judging from outside the glass. While I could talk forever about how rewarding it was, I think it’s important to not diverge from my true, weird self and instead, have some fun with this post:
Kristen & Jess Present:
Realizing You Don’t Belong at Fashion Week
You have no idea how to dress. It’s like Harry Potter syndrome at Kings Cross station. Half the people there are running through solid walls in robes pushing carts topped with owls, and the other half are in muggle-wear just trying to make it to work on time, and everyone is looking at everyone else like, “Dafuq are they wearing?”
You get excited about free food. The good news is there will be a ton of it since everyone else at these events weighs 74 pounds…combined. But the more you eat and the fuller you get, the fatter and worse about yourself you’ll probably feel. But hey, who can say no to 4 packages of free hummus??? NOT I!
You smile in pictures. Don’t you know that everyone at fashion week pouts? Duh. Smiling can cause face wrinkles which will never be in style – unlike the pout which will never be ‘out.’ On the rare occasion you do see smiles, they will of course be closed-lip smiles. You can’t show your teeth because ‘No White After Labor Day’ is like the most important fashion rule of all time.
You’re wearing comfortable shoes. Dead giveaway. Comfortable = bad. Any shoe worth wearing to fashion week is at best, going to tear your feet to ribbons. If you look down and think to yourself, “These shoes are so comfortable,” you’re probably doing it wrong. Also – it doesn’t matter what the weather is. Weather durable footwear is probably a no-go unless you have designah rain boots.
You’re drunk. Apparently people don’t drink at these things?? I know, I was shocked too. If my friends and I were going to dress up in weird clothes, walk seductively down a long hallway, blow kisses at a camera, and then strut away, I’m 99% sure there would be (a lot of) alcohol involved. For the walker and the watcher. But I guess that’s why they have after parties.
So essentially, if you arrive at a Fashion Week show the way I’m used to arriving at events, that is, dressed strangely, looking for food, smiling, jumping around in my favorite comfy wedges, and drunk, it won’t matter what “list” you’re on – you know the truth. You don’t belong.
From a wannabe fashionista, hear me on this. Regardless of how short, heavy, under-dressed, and sober you may feel at a fashion week runway show, overall the experience is a positive one. There is so much to see and and learn about this industry. The vast majority of us will never really be a part of the fashion world, doomed to shop at Zara and Forever 21 long past being 21. So take what you can get.
And by that I mean snatch up all the free giveaways at the event. Goodies!
See my “real” fashion week coverage posts here:
Until next time… Au Revior Fashion Week!!!