My friends, we have reached the promise land: Day 7. For me, New York Fashion Week ends today. I thank you for allowing me to recap NYFW with you all.
7:45 a.m. My alarm goes off. I have a mild panic attack wondering if I forgot to put something into my iPhone calendar. Nope, I don’t have an early show. *hits snooze*
8:30 a.m. I’m up, I’m up.
9:30 a.m. I was going to walk to the train but I’ll be late if I do, so I’ll take a cab.
9:40 a.m. My cab driver is ca-yutte and he’s playing Drake. I shouldn’t try to talk to him, right?
9:43 a.m. “What’s with the ears he asks me?” I absentmindedly touch my Erin Fetherston for JewelMint cat eye headband. “Today I’m going to Betsey Johnson’s fashion show, it’s fitting.” “Are you in it?” “I’m 4’11, sir.”
9:46 a.m. “They’re all on drugs, anyway.” Um, no. How would you know that? “What you thought they just worked out and ate salad?” Yes, exactly! “Well, I hear all in the back of this cab: how many lines they did for breakfast, who’s cheating on who…”
10:oo a.m. As I’m hopping out at the intersection closest to my job, he tells me to be careful of what I say in a cab and not to let anyone make me feel bad for being short. I’m perfect just the way I am, apparently. I totally would have thrown my card through the partition, but he didn’t know the word therapist. So.
11:30 a.m. Time for a few Glam girls to indulge in NYFW nail looks courtesy of Butter London. I opt for Libertine’s Fall 2014 mani–and a glass of champagne.
1:30 p.m. I had a glass of champagne and now I need to be able to get some work done. Oh, lawd.
2:45 p.m. Quick trip to the bathroom, to put on more lipstick, eyeliner and my cat ears. Back to Lincoln Center I go for Betsey Johnson.
3:00 p.m. I find my seat and there is another woman sitting in it. I could have taken the one next to her, but I want mine, the seat I was assigned. My very first time covering Fashion Week for The Blay Report, I went backstage at Betsey Johnson. I didn’t have a ticket to the show, but the security guard let me stand where the models had to exit to get to the runway. This season, I was invited. And, I had a seat. I want my seat. This is a full circle moment for me.
3:09 p.m. Steve Madden is here (he bought Johnson’s company when she went bankrupt a couple years, ago). I wonder if his role in the downfall in the Wolf of Wall Street is true.
3:22 p.m. A little brown girl with big hair sits down in front of me with her father. Little girls and their dads, y’all. At a fashion show. *flicks tear*
3:27 p.m. The plastic is coming off! And um, smoke and sirens start? Okay, Betsey.
3:50 p.m. That was everything I hoped it would be. Also, I need a pair of ratchet door knocker earrings–the bamboo kind.
4:09 p.m. I’m waiting for the 1 train to take me back downtown and I hear, “I’m not a cockbloooooock! It really annoys me when people say that,” a girl in braces said to her friends. Girl, what? You’re all of 12.
4:25 p.m. Back in the office, we’re popping open a bottle of pink champagne. Champagne counter? 2.
6:30 p.m. Angel and I are going to go to Clover Canyon before Elizabeth and James Fall 2014 presentation. Well, that was the plan but we don’t think we’ll be able to make it back to Lincoln Center before Clover Canyon ends so we decide to go straight to E&J.
6:40 p.m. Is that Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen, I see? Walking to the bar to get a glass of champagne–bringing the bubbly counter to 3–I sneak a peek and a pic. It’s them. But everyone is playing it cool, so that will have to do.
6:50 p.m. One last round before Angel and I exit the premises. We decide in the cab ride back to the office, we deserve fries. Also, that we aren’t into men wearing a lot of accessories. Our driver feels the need to show us he’s only wearing a watch. I appreciate that.
7:00 p.m. I change out of my BCBGeneration “snow boots” for actual boots suitable for snow. And with that, my New York Fashion Week is complete.
8:30 p.m. I walk into my room, strip down to my leggings and tank, climb over the mound of clothes on my bed and pass out.
Mama, I made it!