Fashion Week Recap: Day 3, 14 hours

In the wake of yesterday’s post, I think we’ve all earned a laugh or two today. I have another update from Fashion Week to share, so hopefully that’ll do the trick.

When I initially started these recaps, I was a bit nervous that I wouldn’t have enough entertaining, diverse content to write about. Then I remembered that, well, my life — especially during Fashion Week — is a shitshow, so you guys are in luck.

Though it’s a close call, Day 3 is my favorite to-date. Here’s why:

7:00 a.m. We’re only on Day 3 (of 7)? I’m definitely sleeping in.

8:45 a.m. Someone MUST HAVE broken into my apartment. Or at the very least, my closet, because it’s inside out (feast your eyes). I will definitely need more time than usual to get dressed, so I decide to have a bagel and coffee delivered. Rush-order style. (File under: Things I love about New York.)

11:45 a.m. It’s been a slow start, but I’ve managed to get myself out of the apartment and up to Lincoln Center. And I’m not late! The day kicks off with Son Jung Wan‘s spring collection — she’s one of my favorite Korean designers.

12:20 p.m. Lots of metallics — I like! The collection is inspired by Morocco and the sun-drenched Sahara Desert. Speaking of which, I’m sweating. Today was an awful day to layer.

2:10 p.m. This is one of those afternoons that’s completely gotten away from me. Partially because I slept in, but mainly because I’ve spent most of it talking to people I keep running into — including Rebecca, who was nice enough to snap this photo of me and Photoshop out my schvitzing. Too bad she couldn’t wipe that shit-eating grin off my face. (Full outfit post to come next week.)

2:15 p.m. I have a standing ticket to Mara Hoffman, which means you’re admitted to the show once everyone has been seated to stand along the back/fill seats. Upon seeing the line to get in, my feet and I agree that we just can’t handle it. I head back outside in search of iced coffee, a stool to plant my ass, and a plate of complex carbohydrates.

3:10 p.m. I’m back inside Lincoln Center facing a similar situation for Hervé Léger. Although, this time, it seems the show was over-booked. Or that everyone who didn’t have a ticket read my Day 2 recap and got the memo on going rogue.

3:25 p.m. I can hear bass coming from The Theater, which means the show has started. Sigh. Two in a row — this just isn’t’ my day. I spend the next 10 minutes watching the live broadcast on a nearby TV. Some of the girls next to me are taking photos of the TV and uploading them to Instagram. C’mon, guys. Really?

3:50 p.m. I catch my Glam.com girls coming out of Hervé, and we decide to cab downtown to Christian Siriano to see if I can pull another Kate Spade.

4:15 p.m. Change of plans. By a twist of fate — and via a very generous friend — I’m solo in a new cab, en route to the ever-exclusive Alexander Wang show. (MY DREAM SHOW!) When said generous friend handed me her ticket (at 4:05 p.m., I think), I assumed she was kidding/playing a sick joke on me. I think I blacked out when I realized she was serious, so that’s as good as it gets on details here.

4:23 p.m. Okay — mentally, I’m back on Planet Earth. I glance at my phone and panic upon seeing that my she’s only at 64%, so I decide to get ghetto scrappy and charge up in the cab via my computer. Better safe than sorry, right?

4:35 p.m. Guess who’s early?

4:40 p.m. The scene outside Pier 94 (where the show is) is insane. It’s a sea of black sedans, photographers and cigarette smoke. Kerry Washington, Kanye West, Maggie Gyllenhaal and Giovanna Battaglia (the woman in the skirt below) are being accosted by street-style photographers. It’s honestly all I can do to not position myself between Kerry and her Single White Female’ing photographers and shout, “IT’S HANDLED.”

5:15 p.m. We’re inside now, listening to an incredibly curated soundtrack of hip-hop jams (No Scrubs, Bubble Butt, etc). I’ve done/danced at least three laps around the building. The runway looks like a grid!

5:25 p.m. I’m poised on the edge of my seat with a death grip on my iPhone. I’m certain I could sit here forever. I note a few magazine editors walking in and decide that they must have hair stylists in those black sedans with them. Right? And, oh, there’s Courtney Love. She’s still kickin’? Guess so.

5:30 p.m. [Pinches arm.] Am I really here?

5:35 p.m. The lights dim and slowly fade to black in Wang’s warehouse. I have to pee. The show kicks off to an energetic mix of music. My hands have stopped shaking, thankfully, so I’m able to snap a few photos. (More of which you can see here.)

5:57 p.m. After the show, I take my time in exiting. (Fine, yes, I did another lap.) My camera informs me that I took over 130 pictures. On my phone, another 60. I loiter outside for a while, feeling grateful and soaking in the madness.

6:20 p.m. Models start to exit the building in packs — presumably to get to their next shows. Cue photographer flashes. I note that each pair probably weighs collectively less than I do — up top. I don’t think any of them actually speak, but they’re all carrying garment bags (with their show clothes?), wearing leather shorts, t-shirts and sneaker wedges.

7:05 p.m. I wave goodbye (literally, guys) to Pier 94 and head out in search of transportation and WiFi. I need to get back to my apartment to write.

7:20 p.m. I’ve gotten a jump-start by doing so in the cab. I promised that friend I’d share the trends, inspiration and “who’s who” from the show — and when it’s real-time, it’s gotta be real-time. Even in the fashion industry.

8:15 p.m. Aaaand… Done. In record time! The next task at hand is changing — tonight’s outfit will be built around my shoes, since the pain in my feet eliminates nearly 80% of my closet.

8:17 p.m. How do we feel about geriatric shoes? I didn’t think so — sequined Choo’s (found on sale/also styled here) will have to do.

8:30 p.m. At long last, it’s time for sushi and sake with the girls — a New York Fashion Week tradition. We’ve made a pact to check off the restaurants on our Foodie 100 list.

11:05 p.m. My NYFW Partner-in-Crime, Bianca, and I head downtown to the BCBG after-party. It’s at the Boom Boom Room, which boasts an amazing rooftop with 360-degrees of the city and, more importantly, an impressive drink menu. There’s a flustered PR chick clutching a clipboard and working the door (in flats). Been there, girl.

11:30 p.m. Champagne, champagne, champagne! The scene here is awesome. We’re just getting started!

1:15 a.m. I decide I’m not quite ready to call it a night, so I head to the Lower East Side to meet a few of my friends out for a nightcap or three. Or was it four? I digress…

4:45 a.m. Bedtime. But first, water. 9 a.m. is going to come real early!

**
Editor’s Note: Click here for recaps from Day 1 and Day 2, for more Fashion Week looks & coverage, click here.