A Day in A Life During Fashion Week

New York Fashion Week came and went like a tornado- time to job blog.

Note: I will not mention any of our clients (links provided) so my (if you are reading this might I add lovely) coworkers will not find it via our numerous Google Alerts.

SEEN:

….while working the backstage access door at a show:

The girl working backstage access with me, (not a co-worker nor anything to do with press) giving the designer a hard time about not being on the backstage list. He waltzed in.
“Excuse me…name???”
He said it.
“Who??!?!?” She scanned the list.
“He’s the designer,” I jokingly giggled and tried to play it off as “or course” as he passed, annoyed.

The Devil Wears Prada herself, walking out of her private car looking frail with huge sunglasses, toting body guard. She divided an inanely crowded backstage like Moses parting a sea.

This one looking pretty in pink but… how do I put it…. THIN. What happened??!?! She looked amazing in Blue Crush. I hate you Hollywood; leave these girls alone.


…..while working the “you’re not on the list/oh HI, we’ve been waiting for you, come on it” at the door to the party for this store opening:

Fifth Avenue shut done. Police, bodyguards, crowds on onlookers, crowds of party-goers trying to get in. CRAZY-ness.

Being offered pot to let a couple inside.

A woman threatening to get the VP of my company fired because she wasn’t allowed in.

This girl- with a $6000 face of makeup and $1600 manicure- all paid for by the designer so she would make an appearance. Thank god she wore a hat... no telling how much the hairdresser would have charged.

Other celebs.


…while working at The Waverly Inn, seating guests.

The designer mingling, cigar in hand, throughout the bought out restaurant with 120 fashion editors, socialites, and celebrities. (This put in back at cool $100,000.)

This girl and her sister, “This is my little sister Ashley, younger but taller.” And, might I personally add, prettier.

Me, drinking free champagne with co-workers as the workday came to an end at 12:30am. Later we would eat at the trendy PopBurger, continue the drinks, food, etc and charge it all to the company.

*I might add there were two groups of PR girls working during the night mentioned above. The other group went out to dinner with the designer’s son and too many drinks later ended up at an exclusive club where senior members of the brand and MY BOSS finished their evenings. Tables broke, participation in a scandalous burlesque show- nudity included, a dildo “exploding” in the face of on of my co-workers….all and all just SCANDALOUS. My boss saw this sight and was none too pleased….. heads rolled, the office talked.

AND if you are interested in seeing my boss.... shoulder length hair looking to the side in the background.

A Fashion First

Fashion Week is upon us and I have been working late… like 10:30pm late.

With moving, etc I have not done my laundry is quite some time. QUITE some time.

I am out… as in out, out, of underwear. I have worn all my granny panties, miserable string thongs, and holey, well worn pieces. I have NOTHING.

I didn’t want to pull a Britney Spears and was lamenting late last night to my roommate David.

He went into his drawer and pulled out a pair of tight, gray briefs complete with penis pouch.

“These are clean.”

I quickly thought about my options.

“Done.”

Yes folks. Today I was at work planning for the most fashionable week in New York wearing literal boy shorts under a slightly see-through Brooklyn Industries spring dress.

I must say I love roommates who draw no (or very wide) lines and aren’t weirded out by… oh… wearing their undergarments. It brings people closer. I definitely feel closer to David somehow…..

B.Rent Hagen da da da da DA!

Last week my dear friend Brent came across this great land in his virginal visit to New York. It’s a bit strange who you keep in contact with from high school; Brent has been a bit of a surprise reoccurrence and a lovely one at that. After James (who, for all intensive purposes, could be considered a wonderful ex husband and is inevitably in my life forever- this proven when my mother sent him cookies via mail and, due to my shock, let me know they had “over the years acquired an independent relationship together of which [I] am not a factor” and (!) that they had been keeping up via email) anyway-run-on-sentence- AFTER JAMES, Brent has been my only friend from high school that is not just a blast from the past, but someone I stay fairly current with. He is extreme, which I love, and is most always up to some such ridiculousness (like planning a trip to the artic circle via motorcycle… oh by the way the motorcycle doesn’t run and departure time is one month… oh and by the way he had never ridden a motorcycle). I like people who make a plan (the more ridiculous the better) and follow through. I have no doubt he will actually take said trip, regardless of everything and anything. Brent also shares a bit of displacement disorder that perhaps one will always feel when their home, the place they grew up, is a place they do not belong. We are able to speak quite at length and some mutual understanding about our upbringing, people, places, and the differences. There is something very easy and important about someone who knows you throughout time-that knows not just you, the now, but you, the path.
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I feel like it is always best to walk around New York with a mission. The mission with Brent was the find the “best pizza in New York”, which, in this case, was Grimaldi's in DUMBO. We were also staking out ice cream at the Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory, when a male/female pair past us with their tasty treats. Brent sized them up.

“We could take them.”

“Duh.”

We quickly came to the conclusion that we would be hard pressed to find a male/female tag team that could take us.

Neither of us has fought physically in the past, but none the less I don’t think it to be an untruth.

We are both sturdy people, sizable but quick, and would be great team (fighting) players. More than anything else we are passive but something in the frustration of it all… in the nicely-nice upbringing, in the displacement, in the passiveness… is just waiting for someone to cross us unknowingly. We would never strike without due cause (defense) but part of us perhaps wishing for the excuse to release and lash out.

We, of course, walked politely around the ice cream laden couple and waited patiently in line for our pizza.

However, consider yourself warned......