My dear friend JJ lives in the big city, specifically Midtown, so, of course I want to visit. Hello, Shake Shack. I mean, Hello, rekindling friendship. (We didn't even so much as glance at a Shake Shack this time. So bourgeois!)
It's becoming somewhat of a traditional trip-thing. Chocolate. Macarons. Brunch. Wine. Bergdorf. Daniel anxiously watching the banking account from the west coast. Return home to boy life and monster trucks and it's all good. Tradition!
The past two years, my itinerary has worked out best to have me go during Fashion Week. I say that like it's a bad thing. Annnd, well.
Fashion week is...cold. Fashion week is also, inspiring, energetic, and just plain fun.
Gone are the days when you could waltz into any show "dressed to impress" though. You'll need to flash that invitation inside of your Chloe bag. Of which, I have neither.
"I swear I'm an important person! People know me! Kelly Cutrone said hello to me backstage last winter. That Fred Meyer campaign of 2002? Allllll this. Right here."
The security guards are not impressed this year.
Business Insider writes, "Over the last decade, the show has become crowded with fashion bloggers, street photographers, and others with little connection to the industry. But IMG Fashion, the company that puts together the annual show, tells The Wall Street Journal all of that is about to change.
"It was becoming a zoo," Catherine Bennett, the senior vice president and managing director at IMG Fashion Events and Properties, said to the WSJ. "What used to be a platform for established designers to debut their collections to select media and buyers has developed into a cluttered, often cost-prohibitive and exhausting period for our industry to effectively do business."
Honestly, they are so right. We shouldn't be there. I'm not buying a $5,000 coat anytime soon (in this lifetime). 20% of the media list from last year wasn't there. The Kardashians should definitely never ever never ever be there.
Unless your name is Cara Delevigne or Anna Wintour (or Simon Doonan, Joe Zee, Grace Coddington, and you get the picture). Oh, and of course Bill Cunningham, cause, BILL FLIPPIN' CUNNINGHAM. He's so old and cute and can do whatever he wants.
This year we hit up Milk Studios and the pop-up shops to check out those "up and comers" in fashion. They welcomed us Lincoln Center refugees with open arms and an open bar. My people! Cheap wine and reality tv stars? THIS is where I belong.
And the bloggers were still in full force.
We bumped into an entire room of people fangirling a certain famous fashion blogger that shall remain unnamed (unless you were to scroll through the night's IG hashtag, and if so, well done Sherlock) while she-herself-and her alone had an awkward faux photo shoot at a Marc Jacobs event. Nope, nope, just...can't.
Of course, then we hopped in with our Daisy perfume props and, snap, click, print, Selfie!
After all, it was a social media party.