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If I had to pick one thing I've leant from covering fashion weeks*, it's that real time means nothing during this highly crucial and anticipated week. Days blur, and everything becomes one big mash-up of events with no real orientation around a clock- just lists, very very long to-do lists**. Forget the fact that we are actually at the crux of fall dibble-dabbling in the trends of next year's spring time, reality just don't mean anything when we are discussing NYFW. If you don't believe me just ask Crystal, my friend (who also happens to be my cousin) who is casting for a few shows at the event. Yet despite this, still could not answer my burning Twitter question: "Did NYFW fashion week start yet?"

I talk about time here not only to give room to a good hook and intro, *** but also to mention the importance of timing in the deeper aspects of what fashion week really entails, a physical space devoted to the appreciation of clothing.

I attempted to sit down two days back and talk about fashion week- yet again, without physically being there. I couldn't. My limbs nor my brain would allow such trickery, because in reality, I have no clue what's going on at NYFWSS15. The acronym itself is indeed hard to decipher, intentionally. 

...So I'm going. I am heading to NYC this Thursday morning before the cocks crow, or those yellow cabs start honking. You read correctly, I'm moving ship. 

I will sit in on the last round of fashion week- better late than never, right? In actuality, it's just not very practical for me to miss the entire first half of my second and third week of senior year at uni hence my (very) delayed arrival. Now when I say "sit-in", I really mean standing, like outside, while the show happens inside. I may come back successful or completely defeated but I suspect the people standing outside the shows will be of much amusement and when is failure never really success?

If you guys are familiar with 'Take My Picture' by Garage or Suzy Menkes' rather historic piece (for all the wrong reasons) "The Circus of Fashion," you'll know that I am about to enter a huge stereotyped pool of people, 'the gawkers' or simply, the un-named, as in we have no title. We are so desperate to be "in" on something. So fashion crazed that we stake out shows and snap shitty photos on our expensive a** cameras with the hopes of becoming the next Tommy Ton or Phil Oh. I get it. I know the set-up of the scene I am entering, but yet- I don't, so see you Thursday NYC. I'll be bringing my (school's) fancy a** camera and my innovation. Whatever that's worth these days...

...But enough small talk, let's get a hashtag going!

...Now I'm just having too much fun. 

- not very well I should add (see post)
** - is there even time to make physical list? I'd imagine chores come and go quicker than one could grab a pen to jot them down.

***- did I do? 


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I had the opportunity to attend New York Fashion Week recently. If you know me or this blog, it's been a very long time coming. Ok, maybe like three years but still it was a plesant surprise to receive my first real invite to a NYFW show, this side of the continent***. I felt truly special, as NYFW  seems to set out to make one feel, with the stark scent of exclusivity. But I also knew almost immediately, I couldn't let the opportunity pass me by. It was practically divine. On the very same day I looked up the dates for this past season's show, was the very same day I ranted about the state of NYFW, and the very same day Yuna Yang sent me an invite. Something much larger than I was at work, so I took heed and followed through with the prompting (Thank you sweet baby Jesus). Yuna Yang

Entering from the End || On ALL NIGHT of LEMONADE by B

I am listening to “All Night” and I am in tears. I am crying from the inside-out. There is no flood, just pain (and healing *rolling eye emoji).


And yes that word counts as a B reference so let's just start there.