|Pamella Roland with her children, Cole, Cassandra, and Sydney|
Fashion week is a little bit like sex - at first it seems like everyone but yourself is getting in on the action, and then suddenly bam! You find yourself knee-deep in the frenzy and before you're fully aware of yourself and what's happening all around you, it's over. Fashion week leaves you sore, sweaty, hungry, and slightly confused. It can also easily give you a complex: "Wait...standing?! Are you kidding me?" Whereas just 96 hours before you were weeping with joy over an invitation to a show, regardless of where you stood - or sat. It happens to the best of us.
I had a seat at Pamella Roland with many thanks to my friend Mirembe. I had a corner seat in the Pavilion, which in pure universal humor was the perfect seat..until those with standing tickets showed up. I quickly realized that if I wanted to see anything, I'd have to give up my assigned seat and stand. Ah, humility. Afterwards it was a fine frenzy with access backstage where we literally rubbed shoulders with the designer and her children along with Nigel Barker, and the wispy and perfectly pouty models.
The Pamella Roland show was beautiful. It was elegant with the long tweed coats, wispy chiffon, and the dramatic and sexy open back dresses. Beading and jeweled necklines were consistent throughout the collection, and the models were all reminiscent of a modern Bridget Bardot with their tousled hair and smokey eyes. The Pamella Roland lady was a perfect blend of a southern France It Girl, and a femme fatale. An absolutely beautiful show that I am so happy to have been a part of!
At fashion week I learned to tune into certain conversations around me. Not to be particularly nosy, but rather to soak in the atmosphere around me. When leaving backstage through the back door I overhead two models speaking about a recent booking one of them had been harshly critiqued on: "Yeah, she said that my face was too fat. That like...I dunno, my cheeks were too puffy. I called my dad, and he totally ripped into her. I didn't want the gig anyway." I thought of how it must be hard to be young, and alone in a large city. I wondered how her father would react to the cigarette in her hand, and I sincerely hoped that she could see her own beauty despite whatever criticisms were thrown her way.
As it started to snow (again), Mirembe and I tucked ourselves into our coats and ducked into the most happening spot in town during Mercedes Benz Fashion Week: Starbucks. Yes, the Starbucks right across the Lincoln Center is where I found fashion editors, bloggers, models, buyers, fashion enthusiasts, fashion personalities, photographers, and entrepreneurs all huddled together carefully keeping watch for the next available outlet to charge their phones. It was there that I forged many friendships, and rather miraculously stumbled upon a few of my Instagram followers, and friends of mutual acquaintances. It was where I caught Shaun Ross (my favorite) after his Jeremy Scott show, and snapped a photo with him. Hours pass quickly in any coffee shop, but this particular Starbucks with it's constant buzz of creative professionals holds a certain magical power; it inspires you. It was full of life and networking prowess for 9 straight days. I often discovered that I left feeling wired and full of life regardless of caffeine!