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4.30.2010

[Fashion Week 2010]




There I was, with a pass strung around my neck. Takes but a quick glance on their part, and I am through the doors or behind the red access rope. Even with it on I doubt I blended in with the crowd. Amongst the 7" heeled fashionistas along side the perfectly suited up men, or the simply stylish I-wake-up-and-dress-in-black, chic looking entourage. My colours don’t match to perfection and my loose bun is slowly coming undone, with little strands poking out here and there.

Walking around the showroom, browsing through designers’ creation racks. Saying hello, telling them in response to questioning that,no,in fact, I am not a buyer from Toronto, but so-and-so’s intern having a look around. Again some time later, sadly having to mention I am not designer of these beautiful necklaces I am watching over.

The Lounge area with model-esque girls walking around with trays abundant in cosmetic samples and free magazines. The atmosphere of a high end club in NYC, enough to make some of my gossipgirl-envying friends a bit jealous. Of course, as anyone who knows me knows, I stick to the corner or along the wall, doing some people watching instead. As not-down-my-alley as this is, I am still soaking up the experience, it is quite cool. I don’t feel scrutinized or intimidated in the least as they are so wound up in their mingling, conversing and greeting each other over drinks and free daycream samples, I go unnoticed- which is very fine by me. Contrary to the typical "Can I get your number?" of bars and clubs, i was approached with a "so, who do you work for? Do you have a card..? " by a guy my age. Replying that i was an intern and "no" to having a card, I couldn't help but be amused by this very different mannerism. A laugh on the inside that must have shown on my face, was not appreciated, as he frowned and walked away.

Runway shows were impressive. I mean the whole package. The clothing was compelling and stunningly tailored, for the most part. From the styling of the models to just the fact of having names tacked on to these reserved (non-open to the public) seats along the runway, I indulged in it.

I sound like a little kid in a candy store. I could have tried coming across as snob or having an elitist sense of entitlement that I got to go to Montreal Fashion Week with a free buyers/exposant/media pass. Id much rather be myself and say I'm happy and grateful I was able to attend it all!

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