Diary from New York
By FashionUnited
loading...
There is definitely a behavioural pattern for most Editors when they travel to New York for Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week. Most will fly into Newark, the airport of choice for the fashion brigade, the closest in proximity to downtown Manhattan. One of the few peaceful moments in a journalist's schedule is the drive from the airport towards the Big Apple: the familiar smell of Manhattan permeating the car; the approaching high rises that never fail to impress; the Hudson River reflecting the bustle of America's greatest capitalist metropolis. This is where fashion truly means business, where the dollar dictates your brand and where overnight success is possible if only you want it badly enough. Manhattan is also the only place on earth where fashionistas are expected to be perfectly groomed to within an inch of their lives, where no self-respecting out-of-town journalist would dare leave the hotel without having a reputable hairdresser blow-dry their hair. Or, to paraphrase a New Yorker, to give you a blow-out.
The taxi will take the Editor to one of three hotels, where, by sheer coincidence every other major Editor, Stylist and Buyer also happens to stay. These preferential hotels consist of the Soho Grand, Bowery Hotel and 60 Thompson. A few may head to the Ganzevoort in the meatpackers but that is as far north as one goes. Staying uptown is a definite no-no when all the action happens below 27th street.
And so, once the hotel clerk has given you keys to your 10m2 room (at $500 per night), it's time to go shopping. It's a cliche, even for us fashion folk, but in New York, the greatest consumer society on earth, the stores beckon. This is not a mocking of a fashion journalist's limited hobby interest, it's a truth. The lure of American wares, from its well-stocked department stores to the magnetism of its downtown boutiques, all you'll want to do upon arrival is spend money. And why not, the dollar is weak, the Euro and Pound soaring, and American fashion affordable.
The American high street, despite being available in Europe, is still popular. Think of Gap, Abercrombie & Fitch, Banana Republic, American Apparel and Forever 21. These are now international brands but practically half the price on the other side of the Atlantic and often better stocked. The fashionista however, has a show schedule and party schedule to dress for, and will skip the high street (until the very last day and final hour before buying all the basics we already have in three-fold) and exactly 2.5 hours after landing will head straight to Marc Jacobs. This again is no joke. His Mercer Street store is an oasis of cool, the staff a heady mix of models dressed casually in their just-out-of-bed ensembles, the soft background music making it seem like a house party, the clothing rails waiting to be discovered and touched - where each hanger reveals a potential treasure. So, where to start? Most Editors will throw a friendly smile to the manager, stating you are so-and-so who writes for this-and-that publication and before you know it you have a cup of tea in your hand and a 30 per cent discount and new wardrobe at your peril. Why pay retail, right? We emerge two hours later fulfilled and laden with shoes, tailoring for evening, a t-shirt with Blondie of which proceeds go to charity, a wallet, three belts and a perfume. And all with a fabulous discount. But we are not yet satiated. We then head to Barneys.
The satisfaction of the days shopping can only be topped by a necessary mani and pedi, a favourite past-time of fashionable New Yorkers. For 10 dollars a manicure, it is inexcusable for anybody not be groomed to perfection (see intro). The same goes for feet, face, hair (both wanted and unwanted) and of course a gym-toned physique. America may have the world's great obesity problem, however fashionistas in New York are anything but fat. Anyone who is anyone will have a nutritionist, personal trainer, personal growth advisor and healer as part of the I-work-in-fashion package. And as for diet, by day ordering a soya latte, macrobiotic salad with organic oils on the side, an anti-oxidant juice with extra beta carotine are standard on the menu. As is the never-ending flow of champagne and cosmopolitan cocktails for evening.
Back to fashion, the day is spent seeing the shows - 6 shows a day is an easy day. 9 shows is more realistic. Finding the time to write the reviews in between traveling to venues (why can't all the designers show at Bryant Park?), back stage interviews, waiting (for shows rarely start on time) and having obligatory dinners with designers and attending their parties is not easy. Often times we return to our hotels well into the morning hours, switch on our laptops and gather our notes from the day's shows. Only to have the alarm go 5 hours later and another day of the same waiting to unfold. The added pressure of having to look fashionable makes it all the more insane. Whilst some Editors go to extraordinary lengths to look fashion forward, we opt for understated glamour that doesn't require wearing clothes so intently put together they can spotted from New Jersey. No, every fashionista will know the grey leather shoes are this season's Marc Jacobs, the shiny navy coat by Moncler and if they don't, they surely mustn't work in the industry.
After the inaugerating drinks at Socialista, New York's newest uber venue where the even more uber stylist Lysa Coopers threw a private party for her uber clients and friends, it's time to go home. Landing in bed at 4am is more than fashionably late. It's dangerous. This, after all, is only the first day and there are 6 more to go.