Originally posted February 2014.
Fashion week just ended for winter 2018 so it’s a timely taste!
I have a bit of a fascination with fashion. I love reading fashion blogs, love the challenge of making the most of my tiny wardrobe budget. I’ve even considered adding a weekly What I Wore type feature- New York Starvinging Artist Style?- to New York Cliché. Would you read it? (I see my dude readers shaking their heads adamantly nooooo.) I love New York Fashion Week.
I always get caught up in the madness of these bi-annual seven days. For three years I lived in it. Literally lived a block away from it. The September NYFW moved from Bryant Park to Lincoln Center was the same month I moved to W 64th Street. Any time I left the house, I passed by the tents, by the photographers snapping pictures of attendees, by the back stage entrance where all the front-row celebrities exit their town cars. I even worked many events thrown in conjunction with Fashion Week, most memorably one with horribly bitchy models. I saw so many inside elements of America’s biggest fashion parade, but the inside of the tents remained a total mystery.

I always wanted to get inside the tents, even strategized ways of sneaking in. Gigantic, impermanent, impenetrable, canvas structures: they are the main venue of all the runway shows. You can’t get in with out a press pass or your name on a list. Money doesn’t buy you a ticket to a fashion show, unless your a socialite, but the point is the tickets are not for sale. It’s incredibly exclusive. You have to be “deemed worthy” to attend one of the shows.

This year, I found a loop hole. Volunteering your time will get you in the tent. That is how I found myself backstage for the final show of Fashion Week. Amongst frazzled designers, irate PR people, and dozens of naked models who needed me to help them get dressed.
New York Fashion Week Backstage
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