My Time at Fashion Week.2

This past Thursday, my friend and next-door neighbor, Jessica and I went to Bryant Park to attend Isaac Mizrahi’s Fall 2010 fashion show.

On the morning of the show (which was scheduled for noon) Jessica and I woke up at around 9:00 convinced that we needed approximately two and a half hours in order to be presentable to the fashion world. Jessica knocked on my door to make sure I was awake and I made coffee for us both while we discussed possible outfits. Drinking coffee on any other day would normally be a fine and necessary choice in order to get the morning going, however in our case it only created more anxiety – cue 20 minutes later while we frantically and barbarically ripped apart our dressers trying to find something to wear. Needless to say after about an hour of this we finally did discover something “worthy” enough for fashion week. I wore a pair of black harem pants, a vintage black top, and the highest pair of high heels I had ever seen - they were Jessica's and also black. From underneath a mountain of clothing, Jessica found a pair of black boot cut pants that tied in the front, a grey blazer, and a simple white top. She completed the outfit with a pair of grey boots her mother had sent her a week before.

The morning continued as we did our makeup, I believe we both wanted something along the lines of “casual yet chic.” I straightened my hair, the little I do have, and we both finished our coffee. After this all commenced the time was 10:30. It would seem that we had given ourselves a little too much time, huge surprise. But we were problem solvers, and Jessica and I agreed that we would instead leave then, which would allow us some extra time to look around. My suitemate who was sitting in the kitchen during all of this, immediately looked up at Jessica and I as if we were crazy. “You both need to calm down,” she said. “And Veronica, breathe, you’re shaking.” We both nervously laughed. Let me repeat that coffee was a terrible decision.

We did in fact leave not soon after that. We walked out of the dorm towards the subway stop, in extremely painful high heels, getting halfway down the street before deciding that we should split a cab; wouldn’t it be better if we showed up in one anyway. So we got into a cab and headed towards Bryant Park. Maybe it was because of the nerves, but both Jessica and I felt nauseous; and the cab driver’s abrupt stopping did nothing to help ease our stomachs.

Ten minutes later we had arrived to an enormous crowd surrounding the steps outside the tent’s entrance. We left the cab and walked as gracefully as we could while wearing 6 inch heels towards the building. From what we could tell, that upon entering you needed to show some sort of pass to the men guarding the entrance. These individuals were large. So large that it wouldn't be ridiculous to assume that they doubled as heavy weight boxers when they weren't guarding fashion shows. Conclusion: we were terrified. While we had our names on a list we did not have any sort of pass and it would appear that that list was inside. Quick thinking, we acted as if we had done this many times before and walked up to doors. Fortunately, it seemed that we had convinced the security guard that we had in-fact done this before and he let us walk through, saying, “Bring it next time.” Jessica and I held in our laughter as we walked through the doors. If we knew it was this easy, I think we both would have attempted this before.

When we got inside, we headed towards the end of a reasonably long line that appeared to be heading towards the main tent, which is where Isaac Mizrahi’s show would take place. A woman with a note pad came up to our section of the line and began asking people if they already had their seating assignments. Knowing we were on the list I quickly got her attention, told her our names and we were able to immediately enter the main tent. Based on our luck it would seem that we were made to attend fashion shows.

Once inside, Jessica and I were overwhelmed by everything. For one we both agreed that there were many people who didn’t exactly look like they belonged at Fashion Week (which was a little disappointing). Basic blue jeans, plain t-shirts, and ugg boots are fine for normal day wear but this was NOT a normal day! On the other hand there were others, who not only dressed the part but also were recognizable figures in the fashion world, specifically writers for Vogue.

The tent’s setup was particularly beautiful in a simplistic way. Large drapes hung from the ceiling that had treetops painted on either side while the runway was made out of a concrete like material. Jessica and I found our seats indicated by our name cards. Not only were we excessively excited by the fact that we even had name cards but we were pleasantly surprised to find that we had good seats for being “nobodies.” After 20 minutes of talking about whom we recognized and the outfits of those around us the lights dimmed, recognizing that the show was about to begin.

The show began as a live band played music while the models dressed in Isaac’s designs walked down the runway. Jessica and I would grab eachother’s hands whenever there was a particular piece that we liked or if we were just excited in general. As the program indicated there were several chapters within the show, each chapter highlighting a particular part of his collection. The final chapter was the most exceptional as the room was transformed into a winter wonderland. Faux snowflakes slowly fell down to the floor as models wearing glittery dresses elegantly strolled across the runway. But then - as quickly as it had begun it had ended. The show itself only lasted for about 15 minutes. The models collectivley walked out, presenting all of the beautiful outfits we had just seen. Everyone was clapping, it was fabulous. Isaac came out about two minutes later. He quickly walked down the runway smiling and waving before heading backstage. I was upset that my special moment had finally ended but was glad that I was fortunate enough to experience it at all. Everyone began to get up to leave and Jessica and I looked at eachother and exchanged sad faces. We both knew that reality was waiting for us right outside the exit doors. “I suppose we have to go back now,” I said. Jessica agreed and we headed towards the doors. However, not before grabbing our name cards.

Alice in Wonderland, Annie Leibovitz style

IT'S FASHION WEEK!!.2

There are two things that I have always loved: New York City and fashion. In order to better understand what I’m about to tell you it is important that I start from the beginning…

My mother after growing up in California for the majority of her life moved to New York City at 18 in hopes of becoming a model. She was beautiful and wild: New York gladly took her in as it’s own. It wasn’t long before she was noticed or rather “discovered” and eventually she became rather successful in the modeling world (via the 1970s and 1980s). It is easy to assume that fashion was her life and always had been. In time, however, my mother met and married my father. They purchased a home in Eastern Long Island where they would spend time away from Manhattan. After I was born she settled down – likely because she no longer had the body of a model, although I doubt she would ever admit that. My father, mother and I remained in the city for three years, until my father, concerned about the crime and violence of the city (keep in mind this is the early 90s), decided we would move out to Long Island and he would commute. It would be in Long Island where this quote un-quote obsession with fashion and the culture around it began.

My mother had a strong belief when raising us (my brother and myself) that the only way we would “discover ourselves” was through self-expression, in all of its forms. This, unfortunately, meant that my mother would allow me to “express” myself through dress. So while most of the children I went to school with wore adorable outfits hand picked by their mothers or their fathers, I tended to wear outrageous ones courtesy of myself. To give you a quick snapshot, in most of the photographs taken during this time I either bare a frightening resemblance to a homeless person or I am naked. It’s difficult not to wonder what my classmate’s parents must have thought of my parent’s child raising beliefs. On the other hand, my father has told me how during this period he often argued with my mother before I left for school in the morning. “Are you actually going to let her go out like that,” he would say. She would simply shake her head, insisting that in the end it would only be beneficial. My father, a creative thinking person himself, would in turn bite his tongue and attempt to disregard my – literally- horrifying outfits. While I would like to say that this unique fashion sense I had so miraculously acquired improved shortly after my toddler years, I sadly cannot. It would take several more years for my mother’s proposed self-discovery to manifest itself successfully. Fast-forward a bit in the future and I would like to consider myself a stylish person, debatably thanks to the untraditional methods of my mother.

So why is any of this important? Well, as some of you may know currently it is Fashion Week in Manhattan. Over the course of the week designers will showcase their Fall 2010 lines; an extraordinarily exciting time for someone like me. While having missed Fashion Week that took place during September of last year I decided to make a conscious effort to witness firsthand some of the anticipated events occurring throughout this week. This is where my background information becomes relevant. During my mothers career she was able to make friends with significant individuals involved with fashion. One of these individuals happened to be Isaac Mizrahi, a notable designer for whom she worked for. After meeting him this summer, I decided to track down his email address within my mother’s address book and see what he would say if I were to ask to attend his show. While it may not seem like a big deal, emailing a famous designer to me was a bit nerve racking. To my surprise, not only did I get a response but also I was told that I could indeed attend. There just isn’t the right set of words to describe how happy I was in that moment. And currently there isn’t the right set of words either to describe how excited I am for his upcoming show. Maybe its moments like this that allow you to better reflect on the reasons of why exactly you are the way you are. While I don't believe that any of the outfits I wore as a child would be runway worthy, they do, however, remain important aspects of who I am today. Fashion has become something I am fascinated with as well as something I would like to incorporate into a career later in my life. And maybe it was necessary to wear thirty layes (all different patterns) to become like that.

To come to a simple close, this week in the fashion universe and in my universe is one that will never be forgotten.

i am absolutely in love with this jacket. isaac mizrahi fall 2010

all too familar

Maybe it’s just me but unlike the praises of many fashion critics, I wasn’t particularly fond of Marc Jacob’s Fall 2010 collection. After watching a video of the show I couldn’t help but feel a bit dissatisfied with what I was witnessing. I will admit that the show itself was beautifully put together. Playing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” was indeed a nice touch. Good Job! But it’s a little manipulating to believe that the surreal state I was put in would be enough for me to disregard what the models were wearing. I love Marc Jacobs but his new collection is simply too familiar. I want to see something new and fresh, not last years Fall collection – just in different colors. Style.com interviewed Jacobs after his show; "There's so much striving for newness now that newness feels less new," he said. Okay, I absolutely understand how attempting to transform your line completely isn’t the wisest decision. But really? No change at all? Come on Marc, I KNOW you can do better! Maybe I’m expecting too much from him but is that honestly wrong of me? I can only hope that next season he will take more of a risk.