When I first moved to Miami, I wanted to meet and greet everything that Miami had to offer: the clubs, the beaches, the hot Latin men needing green cards. So on my first night out, with my Massachusetts fake ID in hand, I went to a drag show.
What I found there was a fellow Indiana native, dressed head-to-tow in pink and feathers, who told me, "You need money in this town. You're in college, so you wont have it for a while. Until that happens, fake it till you make it."
Today, many years after I left college, I feel like I am doing just that. I am at New York Fashion Week, and the feeling is surreal. So as of today, in the words of my female impersonator friend, I plan to fake it till I damn well make it.
To be honest, I am not sure what I am doing here. Well, I do. I am a blogger obsessed with fashion, celebrities, and all things synonymous with the Big Apple's famous fashion week. But to sit next to writers from The New York Times and Glamour is kind of blowing my mind. When my editor put me on assignment, I could barely believe it. And now, here I am.
I've spent an embarrassing amount of time wondering whether I belong here. Am I cool? Hell yeah. Actually, I am awesome. But if what I've seen in the movies about fashion week is accurate, I am screwed like a Charlie Sheen hooker. First, I am not a sample size, like many of my fellow 305 ladies. My size and fashion's sample sizes aren't even related. Luckily, I used to work in fashion PR, and have managed my fair share of fashion shows in Miami. I have handled guest lists, dressed models, and once had Tara Reid ask me to score her some cocaine at a show. (Don't worry, Mom and Dad, I didn't!) I am just hoping my experience with Miami fashion shows is enough to hold me back from what I like to call a "gay panic" when I'm sitting a few rows behind some of Hollywood's finest. Will I encounter scary Vogue editor Anna Wintour? And will she destroy me with her fiery, all-powerful gaze?
The fangirl in me is pumped that designers actually want me at their shows. I have been invited to attend the likes of Mara Hoffman, Badglely Mishka, and for my reality TV buffs, Whitney Port's Whitney Eve show. I will also be checking out the scene backstage at Zac Posen. And the Miami love's not restricted to big names only; I'll be checking out designers like Mishka and Nicholas K as well.
My first challenge, however, will be conquering the NYC subway system on my way into Manhattan, all by my lonesome. Sound easy? Yeah, my ass is coming from Brooklyn. If you believe in a higher power upstairs -- even if it's your neighbor -- please ask him to help a girl out.
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