NYFW, ETC. (part 1)

Thanks, Steve. You're a real pal

The world is now on Paris Fashion Week, so to say I'm a bit delayed on this post is truthful - but could be worse... it could be November? Ahem.

Anyway, despite this being my second Fashion week experience since I moved to New York (it's almost been a year! Gah!) I would say this one was the most LEGIT. It all began with some very grand plans for Fashion's Night Out party jumping. FNO is the kick off to Fashion Week, it's basically how the retailers have involvement; all the shops & flag ship locations host parties (think drinks, DJ's, prizes & discounts) around the city. I was already wandering the streets of SOHO at this point, so I managed to hop into a Steven Madden on my way to the subway. Aside: I have gained this new found respect for Steve Madden. Perhaps it's my poverty speaking, or just the general expense of, frankly, everything in this city, but his shoes are actually pretty fantastic. I spotted these great cork bottom brown leather chunky platform sandals in the back rack. They were cute. They weren't black *gasp*. They were TWENTY DOLLARS!  Fuck yes, thank you very much Steve (we are on first name basis now) and thank you FNO.

Next stop was to be another party at Aritzia (I also consider us really good friends after my photo made it onto their blog & email. Yeah Besties!) and then off to Burberry to see my friend, Marlaice, and then end the eve at the GANT Rugger Nolita store (girlfriend points). Now, dont get too excited - I got a call when leaving "Steve's" that the house guests we had were locked out of the house & I had to head back to Brooklyn to let them in. My bubble was deflated. How depressing. I knew I would never make it back in time.  All I could think of was the disappointment I was betrothing on my gal, Aritzia - she needed me! Western Canadians are few & far here in New York - we gotta stick together! By the time we made it back into the city it was sheer mayhem. I have never seen so many people on the streets. Police yelling, people in huge, uncomfortable shoes pushing each other. 1000's of people slowly shuffling down Broadway, metal gates all down the sidewalks to enforce New Yorkers favourite past time, jay walking. Turns out all these people were just the result of F.N.O ending & releasing a bijillion people onto the streets fired up from discounts & alcohol - a sort of Fashion Fuelled riot.

We slowly floated through the masses to the GANT Rugger store on Prince & Mott - only to find out the party's over. Sorry, folks. A bunch of blogger girls were flaunting their shit all over the street. Flashes going off, smiles being hidden. It was like being an anthropologist in a field study. These were the serious bloggers - I read their blogs like a religion. They are my gods. Surprisingly, they didnt look any different or more stylish than any other girl I saw wandering around New York in high heels & a short dress in the past year. I think the internet does that too people. It's like a magnifying glass. It's like "Hey, I know I look good. Don't I look good?" and I'm all "Yeah. Yeah you do" and then all of a sudden they are the voice of fashion. I'm not complaining, I try to do that, I guess - but I just suck at it. I have a hard time thinking I am awesome enough to deserve anyone taking me as some sort of Fashion expert. Not to mention, I actually hate having my picture taken. I feel fucking awkward. I too don't smile, because I look like a moron when I do. HEY GUYS, IM SO HAPPY THIS PIC. IS BEING TAKEN. It's a giant lie. Im not happy, Im terrified, Im thinking about whether my chin is down & my hair isnt stuck to my lip gloss. Can you see my shoes? How about my jewelry? It's ridiculous. My look for photos is that of terror & anxiety.

Jesus, this post is loooong. I havent even gotten to the Fashion Show Part. Ok.  This post will be in instalments. Sorry folks. This shit is exhausting.