Fashion Diary: NYFW—The Real Scoop
New York Fashion Week kicked off this week, and our resident Bikini Girl Delia Bennett captured it all from the frontlines! This fall marks the southern-girl-turned-East-Villager's third year and sixth season of participating in fashion week, but this is the first time she's had an assigned seat inside Lincoln Center Theatre. So here’s the scoop on one of the biggest fashion events of the year, straight from Delia’s NYFW diary!
I don't think people consider, when they make their way to New York City for “O.M.G., Fashion Week!”, that it’s a bit of a jungle and only the strong (wearing the spikiest of stilettos) will survive. Endless lines that aren’t really lines, but clusters of very pushy people who are all trying to make it to a seat before you, even if theirs is assigned and yours isn’t. Fact of Fashion Week: People will push. They’ll act like the show is going to start without them, but here’s another reality: the show will not start without you, rather it will start 30 minutes late (unless it’s Marc Jacobs' show; he's always on time).
Last night, when I was pushing my way into the theatre, and trying to thwart off a Russian man who was making his way through the mob by grabbing butts, I realized that another problematic element of the “line issue” is that everyone is wearing a different perfume. So imagine, say 500-or-so different scents that have all been recently applied concentrated in one small area. Now I know why editors carry huge bags: to stock up on front-row goody bags and puke in them when the fog of perfume gives them vertigo.
Once the show begins (last night it was Meskita), that’s obviously the fun part. Here's why: you now know that in eight minutes-ish you’ll be able to go home and sleep, but even better, if you’re not sitting in the front row, you can have a great time looking at the people below you Snapchatting, Instagramming, Tweeting, Facebooking, emailing, texting, and doing everything but actually watching the show with their own eyes.
Me, I love to write notes on my iPhone, because they make absolutely zero sense the next morning and do everything but help me to review the collection. For Meskita, I wrote, "Space Cowgirl meets Derek Zoolander" (because one of the songs they used was “Relax! Just Do It”), "Have the models eaten since last season," "I love capes," "Pleats are everywhere," "Panties as pants, but what are the moral ramifications," "Does this come in my size," "Backpack lipstick purse." What I’m now going to deduce from these notes is that it was a futuristic-themed show, which it was, with a metallic-based color palette. The models were skinnier than most models, or maybe I’ve forgotten what a model looks like, that the collection featured capes and I’m hoping this becomes a thing, everything was pleated, hot-pants are maybe in again as actual pants, the fit looked really small, and that the accessory was a very, very tiny backpack that looked as if it would only fit a tube of lipstick.
Here's another tip I've learned over the years: the minute the show is over, run. Run to the curb and hail that cab as if your life depended upon it. Otherwise? More lines.
So, there you have my first day of NYFW SS' 15. I know it might sound like I'm a bit down on it, which I was last night when I had to walk 17 blocks in my brand new Jimmy Choo's, which weren't made for walking, until I found a cab. But I think it's important to know that while fashion week is so much fun and I'm incredibly privileged to be a part of it all, it can be hard work and a lot prettier in pictures. On that note, I'm off to bandage my blisters and prep for Day 2!