New York Without the Fashion Week

Earlier this week, one of our instructors asked a student to recount her experiences at New York Fashion Week. Like me, she's working as a PR intern for a designer in New York, but she worked during fashion week and I didn't.

At first, I felt the pangs of FOMO - the Fear of Missing Out. Why didn't I work at fashion week? Why didn't I intern with an American designer? Why didn't I do more and work harder?

Even the two other interns were sent to KCD on the first Friday of fashion week to stuff envelopes for show invitations, whereas I was in the office all day taking care of press clippings and the like. But, at about 4 in the afternoon, the woman's PR coordinator called me over to ask something important. She handed me a corporate credit card and a look book. I need you to go to this address and pick up these looks from this person, she said. They were just shooting these looks today, so I needed to verify that each and every piece was in the garment bag. I grabbed my coat and I embarked on my mission to recover two runway looks.

Hailing a cab was no problem, and it wasn't long before I had arrived at Highline Stages in the Meatpacking District. I stepped out of the cab into a pile of brown roadside snow...and a cluster of photographers. They weren't taking photos of me, I'm pretty sure, but there were a series of mini photo shoots all over the sidewalk. One tall model-esque man with floppy blonde hair was changing his shirt under an overhang. A woman in a fuzzy coat was being instructed to walk back and forth across the sidewalk in the same spot. Another woman in a pretty unimpressive outfit was leaning against a doorway for a shot. But, most importantly, most of them were in my way. I had to weave through a photog and "excuse me" my way into the door.

I entered the third floor studio and it looked like a scene from a movie. Indie music was playing in the background, fashion assistants dressed in all black were organizing racks of clothing, and a seamless and lights were set up in the middle of the room. And then I saw her. I'm probably not allowed to say her name, but I will say that she is a former international Vogue editor and street-style darling who was shooting for her own independent publication. And I was in the same room as her.

At that point I was so overwhelmed that I dropped a very expensive designer silk blouse to the floor and left the fashion assistant scrambling to pick it up. They then insisted that I let them pack up the samples while I stood there and stared at one of the most influential editors in the industry. The whole experience lasted about five minutes, and even though I tried my best to be cool and nonchalant, I'm pretty I looked as excited as I felt.

When I got back to the office, I returned the credit card and lookbook to my supervisor and asked what the shoot was for. She confirmed my suspicion and I got all excited again. "I have to go tweet this!" I exclaimed, rather embarrassingly, and she and the men's coordinator both laughed. On my way out, as I wished everyone a good night, she said to remember, you saw that editor today.

So I didn't go to New York Fashion Week, and now everyone has left for the Milan shows leaving me once again feeling like I missed out. But I was in the same room as one of the most influential international fashion editors, so that's cool I guess.