I wish I knew how to express the emotional turmoil that comes with Fashionweek. The hierachy of the Fashion world keeps you constantly on your toes. At 2pm Tracey Reese is on but we don’t have invitations. The line is snaking around the fountain that forms the centerpiece of the main tent which the holding area for editors and other people attending fashionweek. There are moniters on which to watch the shows so I can technically “liveblog” the show as it is happening but it isn’t quite the same as being inside the show. I can’t give the music or the visceral impact of the collection just from watching it on the moniters.
There are plenty of people that I feel quite sure don’t have any real fashion industry connections that take up a lot of the space at the shows. Hanger-ons, friends, socialites and the like all fill the tents as each show ramps up.
It is possible to sneak your way in but as I still feel a little timid and new to the game my lack of insiderness shows up and I wonder if I have the strength to tackle the PR women. If I knew I was going to have the experience of an amazing show I am sure I would push for it but I have to yet attend a show that hit me in the stomach and made me think “Yes, this is fashion.” I am still looking for those moments of glory that I am sure are part of the fashion world experience.
My problem I think is that I don’t know exactly what my expectations are. I came into the experience of fashionweek with the idea that it would be a soul sucking and exhausting process but somewhere locked up in me I still wanted to believe. But believe what? Glamour, mystery and intrigue are for the beautiful and rich that populate the the theoretical realms of fashion that I have yet to experience.
I am sitting in betwen a random photographer boy in a two tight shirt, a “consultant” in a Monty Python esque suit (complete with decoder ring) and a man in a completely coordinated. yellow plaid suit. I guess a little bit of the oddity and glamour of fashionweek is right next to me.
I move between elation at the idea that I am in a new world and a great annoyance and the difficult of navigating that world. I am networked rather well now yes but even in that it is still a game of kiss and give back for much of this. The real business end of fashion has no such illusions but the editors and hanger-ons still do and that seems to be what makes fashionweek the dire experience so many resent.
I have Doo.Ri later today and I have a feeling I may taste something great at the show. But right now watching the lines I feel just a little sad.
Try to go backstage where everyone is getting ready. It will give you energy and hope again. You need the inside perspective. Maybe take a walk and get some fresh air. Truth is, it is all a little sad. From the little children who do the beadwork illegally, to the old, over-it, drama-inducing retail salesperson to your ass which is probably so sore from sitting by now, it is all a little sad.
my heart is with you though,
Kim
The audience outfits sound great. You’ve got nothing to lose, you’re young, pretty and smart! This is a tremendous learning experience but just think – you’re popping your fashion week cherry! (Jay, I blame that on you, bitch!) Next season you’ll be a wizened pro. Let us see it through your new-eyes because you will never see it like this again, I’m sure that the experienced people no longer observe with the same curiousity or sensitivity. That’s valuable. And be confident, Julie! I love checking up on you!
I think you’ve confirmed my suspicions. A friend of mine works in production for some of the shows and asked if I wanted to work back house. I am sure it would be an experience, but also a lot of hours and little pay. I declined. Instead I snuggled up in my comforter last night, bookmarked my favorite looks, slept in this morning, had brunch and posted on my picks from the comfort of home. Don’t get me wrong, if I received an invite, I would definitely attend, but even the editors complain about the theatrics and waiting. During last season’s fashion week I was chatting with an editor at our local coffee shop. When I told her that I viewed everything online, she told me she knows stylists who do the same… and mentioned she was exhausted (and she still had Paris and Milan). I guess, as much as I look forward to fashion week, I am just jaded. I won’t do the velvet rope line thing, I don’t care who or what is inside. It may sound corny, but the richness of life is really in the day-to-day relationships and experiences you have, after that, all of the hoopla falls by the way side. But at least you can say, been there, done that, and maybe you’ll have one of those front row seats one day. Enjoy Doo.ri!!
I have to thank you so much for this blog entry (and all of them so far at Fashion Week). I’ve been going to the shows for years (first as a backstage model dresser, then as a writer for someone else, now a writer for my own online mag). This is my first season of which I have a marathon of shows to attend and after two days, I was so sad and depressed. Depressed about the amount of people who are total “bottom feeders” (as my friend so eloquently put it) and hangers-on and women who have nothing more to do with fashion than buying LV oversized sunglasses. The number of times I have been shoved is countless. The heirarchy is incredulous and the way us riff-raff in the “standing” invite line are treated as opposed to the folks with seat assignments is disheartening (particularly at the nameless off-site venue and how the standing line has to WAIT OUTSIDE ON THE STREET IN FEBRUARY before we are let in…thank god it’s unseasonably warm). I was very upset at seeing how poorly that these people treat each other. I’ve figured out a great way to cope (I keep my iPod on most of the time to disappear into my own world while in the lines). So a MILLION THANKS because what you have said is SPOT-ON and exactly how I feel. But now, I feel much better knowing that I’m not alone. Happy rest of the week!