"It seems fashion week is here. I say it seems as I’m in full denial of thinking about the event; 1, too much excitement, and 2, the guaranteed “what do I wear to the shows” morning of migraine panic attacks. This year there are a few things I plan on doing differently. Firstly, instead of dressing up, I plan on channeling this lost homeless person look. It starts with tousled just woke up didn’t do anything Afro hair, think black Alexa Chung. Then I proceed in wearing nothing that touches my body at all; Hanes tee, harem pants, and ends with one expensive thing. I’m really relying on that one expensive thing to throw everyone off. I want people to think that I just accidently wandered into the tents from a shelter. Then they catch my Miu Miu sunnies hanging off a stained tee, and just don’t know what to think. There’s nothing I enjoy more than a confused P.R. girl wondering who and how. Another thing that I will do differently this year is I will smell like food; I will smell like that because I will have just eaten. I will be full in Bryant Park! I repeat I will be full in BRYANT PARK! This is a change as I make my transition from the runways to the audience. I can’t tell you how excited I am to have a nice sandwich before I enter the tent, hell, I might even bring snacks! Snacks also double as ammo when a model messes up, something as innocent as goldfish can be easily whipped onto the catwalk to reprimand unwarranted mistakes, “bad model, bad model.” Think Elie Saabe Couture Show tumble in Paris this season, which merits a tossed lunchbox. Tres tragic. I spent my time in between these shows eating stuff, drinking stuff, eating more stuff.
By C. Money