Fashion Week Round 1

September 5, 2014
Today, I volunteered to work for New York Mercedes Benz Fashion Week.

I couldn't take any more pictures for two reasons: I was so busy that I'm surprised I am sane enough (or am I?) to write this now; I signed a contract saying I wouldn't take pictures for copyright reasons. So, I won't mention what firm I worked for or which shows I attended (I went to three!), but I will summarize the madness.

We arrived a little after 9am at the PR Firm's offices, where we were split into several groups and assigned to answer to our specific team leaders. The man I was "interning" for today seemed to be in charge of all things media and press at the first location, where we checked in the photographers and reporters and directed them where to go. Before getting to that point though, we had to take a cab (which apparently means luxury town car) to the fanciest hotel high rise I think I've ever seen. We took the back entrance and freight elevator, as the main elevator was closed to the 18th floor for this private event. Upon entering the space, I was handed a press pass while I took in the view of lower Manhattan, from The Statue of Liberty to the morning fog still covering most of Freedom Tower.

Some time later, I had to trek across Manhattan to pick up press releases and programs for the next show. This was the absolute worst part of the day. First of all, it was scorching hot out at this point, and the closest subway station was a hike and a half away. Trying to be as time-efficient as possible, I took a high-speed walk to where the papers were to be picked up, waited too long for my liking for them to be ready, then left for the subway back to the venue with two cumbersome boxes of papers, probably exceeding 20 pounds. Things temporarily changed for the better when I made eye-contact on 7th with Randy from Say Yes to the Dress. Yes, he smiled at me. After waiting a solid 10 minutes for the train to arrive, walking back to the venue, I was a sweaty, panting disaster. What a great impression I must've made.

No time to catch your breath during Fashion Week, however. I was immediately whisked away and instructed to take a cab and these boxes of paper to the next venue. Arriving there, I handed over the boxes in exchange for a new backstage pass. This time, I had a few moments to breathe as I was ordered backstage to direct models from hair and makeup to dressing.

It wasn't before long that I was again instructed to pick up papers for the next show. This time, it wasn't brutally hot out or too far of a walk. Bringing the papers back to venue #2, I picked up a woman who did PR for the firm and walked with her, a bag of supplies, and a box of paper to Lincoln Center (the venue of the final show). It was here that I witnessed Rebecca Minkoff getting into her car behind the private entrance to the Pavilion. It was a pretty cool moment.

By this time, it was almost 5 pm, and I had yet to take a food, water, or bathroom break since 9, and I had statistics class at 6:30. As much as I wanted to stay for the biggest show of the day, I reluctantly said my thank you's and goodbye's and struggled to find a vacant cab back to school.

My feet are somewhat numb, my eyes burning and hair greasy. But I survived stats, had the best Chipotle dinner ever, and caught the 9:38 train home for a much needed weekend of Mom's cooking, Dad's snoring, and Webster's snuggles.

Overheards:

"Your legs are like up to my elbows. Or shoulders actually."

"I feel like I'm in lava."

"Do you feel important when this fan is blowing your hair?"

"I got a back rub halfway through. I hope he worked there."

"I don't know if she doesn't know how to put bronzer on or if she got punched in the face."