fashion's.night.out

People who grow up without mothers must be the strongest, most independent people in the world.

Arrival at JFK airport in New York: 7:55 a.m. I immediately and embarrassingly am a little lost looking for my pre-booked shuttle as the "ground transportation" kiosk slips by my wandering eyes unnoticed. Who do I call? Mom. My mom who is hundreds of miles away and currently on the road. there is no way she could help me. But somehow, just calling her and inviting her insight into my confusion makes me feel worlds better, even as she laughs at my situation and at my expense.
back to New York. The land of the foreign languages, the busy, the uninterested and the antagonistic. My failed attempt to get the transportation woman, who eventually did help me, to crack a smile reminded me of this unfriendliness.

Finally, after being awake for 7 hours, I convinced my shuttle driver to just drop me off somewhat near work. I still was keyless to my weekend apartment and it was getting too close to 11 a.m., when I was to start my work day. My plans for a nap, some breakfast, and a second to breathe quickly vanished. Indulging in an aroma cafe "health" sandwich and the day's second cup of coffee, I once again called mom (i'm beginning to think I call her too much after reading over this).
I quickly changed into an outfit that never even crossed my mind. I had been thinking about what to wear for Fashion's Night Out since the minute I booked my flight, weeks ago. But once the grime and sidewalk cracks of soho met the bottom of my heels, i was instantly inspired. it just has that effect on you. You can wear anything you want, it usually just works and if it doesn't quite go together, you don't really care.

Flash forward 7 hours, after sleepily getting through the typical day of intern work, Fashion's Night Out finally began. I changed into my FNO tank and a sequin skirt (picture below) and relished in every second of the thriving fashionistas and fabulous lives that surrounded me for the night. As adorners of faux and real fur alike strutted through the doors, I basked in all their confidence, I met fashion lovers that gave the phrase "coming from all walks of life" new meaning. I exchanged smiles and greetings with Texas high school students and designers with fashion week shows. All of whom share a love and passion for this industry of dreams and their makers, creativity, imagination, and fantasy, all turned into a real, profitable, and fabulous reality.

The smell of cigarettes and designer colognes flirted with the crowded soho street, mingling with high heels and and plastic cups of pinot grigio, the ambiance and allure of the evening instilled indescribable satisfaction in me. I was exactly where i was supposed to be.

Charlotte Olympia, the ladies of Anndra Neen, the gentlemen of Proenza Schouler, Alexander Wang, Jason Wu, Thakoon, Peter Som just to name a few. Oh, the fabulous world of New York and Kirna Zabete. It was simply magical just to be a part of it all.

Here's some pictures from the event

Alexander Wang, Tracy Anderson, and Sarah Easley probably discussing how fabulous they all are

Here's one of the DJ Wolfe dance party that went on downstairs. Thakoon and the designers of Anndra Neen with Sarah and Beth!

Tracy Anderson and I

Jason Wu and I

I spent my Saturday relaxing in this adorable little abode of a couple gracious twenty somethings.

I indulged in the luxurious fantasy life in which i sometimes tease myself with. So instead of saving the little bit of money I do have, I spent my saturday evening watching Pretty Woman and ordering dinner to be delivered: French Toast, a Milkshake and cup cakes. ohh the delicacy...

I'm still in that New York state of mind...floating around campus with my head in the clouds. I'm sure my two exams and one quiz tomorrow will be the lightning that strikes me down to reality. But until then, nothing can shake me of this fashion fever.

On my way home from a long day of classes, I shuffled my cowboy boots toward the setting sun and delighted in this song, which i'll now share with you, that the fate of my ipod shuffle setting brought to me. Brings me back to my lifelong dream of having grown up in the seventies...

expressionofthought

In honor of the Red Dress Gala slideshow I'm compiling for my sorority, those were a couple of photoshopped web images i created for it.

In my 9:30 a.m. consumer rights class, decorated with nodding heads, coffee administering medicinal wake-up remedies, and the whispering chatter of weekend commencement plans, I pretended to indulge in an informative lecture about the Better Business Bureau. As my thoughts drift from assorted project preparations, to my New York returning visit, and what kind of sandwich i would have for lunch, my eyes caught sight of a winter-holiday themed water bottle. The picture on the bottle was a cartoon sketching of a small quiet town in a clear, winter's night. The only sign of cartoon life was a silhouette of an impossibly proportioned woman walking her tiny dog through the snow in stilettos. My already wandering imagination lingered in this image and took me there, trying to envision that silhouette's penthouse apartment and her victorian decorated bedroom. Possibly her wealthy, happy husband, endowed with George Clooney-esque looks, waiting for her. I'm so weird. But there just is no way to contain or control these imaginative triumphs.

anyway. In just a few days I will be flying back to the homeland. Well, Manhattan. not really anyone's homeland. but definitely where the essence of me is unveiled. Since coming back to the mountains of western Virginia, I feel like I'm missing out on something. I feel as if I'm staying in on a Friday night, wondering what everyone else is doing, what's going on. I'm stuck in a sleepy college town while the rest of the world is preparing for fashion week and indulging in pop culture and divine lives in New York City. Although hardly the truth, it's definitely comforting to anticipate something on the other side of the classrooms and 10lb. textbooks.

Speaking of the other side. I am sporadically asked about my future's plans and although there are millions of options. I'm not sure I want any of them. I can't entertain the idea of living the ONE life I'm given working for anyone or doing something that renders me anything less than purely satisfied. we'll see.

I've also decided that i want 3 new best friends: an asian who smokes, one that drinks diet coke from a can with a straw, and one that can thoroughly enjoy driving around jamming to "Blues man" by B.B. King followed "I Hate This Part" by the Pussycat Dolls and casually back to some Led Zeppelin classics.

If I could find just one friend to encompass that all, I'd be happy about that too.

...

3 days..

http://www.fashionsnightout.com/

three.worlds

Time slowed down as the road carried my mom, grandmother, and I away from skyscrapers and honking taxis towards salty air and local farmer stands complete with crabmeat, shrimp, peaches and corn.

My first full day home commenced with the beach and reintroducing myself to North End waves, followed by a few hours of boating and finally friends, family, and a bushel of crabs.

I've been taking full advantage of my short time here; spending every free second I have in the nearest body of water. i've been able to reconnect with my roots, my home.

For as long as I can remember, I have been shuffling through the sands of 54th street and I am positively convinced that there are two times in this world when there is no better place to be than walking down this street. The first being the literal calm before a storm, when the sky dons a mask of intimidation and ominous impression. The beach house wind chimes sing to the abandoned beach streets as mother nature reclaims her territory. The second time possesses a similar calming intrigue: late summer evenings, when the sun and the surfers call it a day and the sounds of crickets surround their bare feet and salty skin.

Out in the water, facing the horizon, as the sun retreats. That's when i feel connected to God on a whole new level, the ocean our medium with its force, beauty, and power.

Now back to the somewhat-real world: college. excited freshman, free spirited sophomores, and careless upperclassmen. I'm entering a new world of stresses and obstacles while trying to remain grounded and sane with an overwhelming course load, sorority duties, and a showcase to coordinate. But if I don't believe in myself that I can accomplish all that and more, who can?

and another zero 7 to get you through late weekday working nights, much like the ones i'm looking at in my near future!

"God gives every bird his worm, but he does not throw it into the nest"

I am a firm believer that this city, this destination for dreamers and realists alike, is alive. It breathes inspiration. The people here merely give it some character, a little personality, intrigue. While venturing these streets, alleys, and parks it's impossible to not be drawn towards it's raw, authentic inspiration. I've come to always carry a sketchbook with me, so I can capture this city's random sparks of brilliance. All the while, it has taught me to be who I am and that it's up to each of us to genuinely enjoy ourselves and celebrate our own unique thoughts, ideas, and dreams.

My last weekend here was my most relaxing yet. Friday I unveiled a true friendship while discovering the flaws in another. I started talking to the right people and ended up having a fabulous night. Saturday was my birthday. I spent it with the most important person on anyone's birthday - myself. So in between chapters of a Jack Kerouac book, I'd lay under New York's summer sun, basking in all its brilliance, and look up at the lingering clouds and purposeful planes and a pair of aimlessly floating pink balloons. I feel nothing but pure satisfaction. I glance at my fellow sunbathers...a distinguished, artistic, and sophisticated couple napping to the tunes of Fleetwood Mac that drift to my towel, which I don't mind. A group of young twenty-somethings engaging in exclusive gossip and laughter. And scattered across the lawn by the Hudson are various families and single, tanned and toned, young new yorkers.

I went to Boston two weeks ago to visit a musically-endowed good friend. Boston and New York come alive at night in two very different ways. New York seems recognize the transition, turning cafes into bars, and family tourists into loud, drunken clusters of young adults. Boston seems to not notice the sun went down. There's still as many people walking the streets, but they're still going out to eat, or just strolling around the quaint city.

That friend returned the visit last night. In between the conversation in Massachusetts and the ones while sipping coronas and watching lady liberty and Manhattan's lights flicker, we were able to connect on a new level. Now that we're becoming older and developing into the people we want to be, we have more control over who we surround ourselves with. We both concluded that the most important element in these people exists inspiration. We hope to be inspired by them as much as they are themselves.

oh...and here are a few of the shots from the intern photoshoot...

and a Morcheeba video to relax you a little bit..

any change

Life is a glorious opportunity

-Audrey Hepburn

It's felt like a Hootie and the Blowfish, stare at the moon, walk a little slower kind of week. or whatever music you listen to or rituals you do that will take you away. walking through Union Square's sea of starving artists, creative geniuses, and tourists fumbling with dollar bills and clunky cameras smoothly led me into this mentality. one far from reality and into my own realm of thoughts and flow of creativity.

This week in the store, the interns did a photoshoot in some of the clothes for a page on the website. Adorned in a $1600 Stella McCartney dress and $600 Alexander Wang heels following a camera, although not phasing a single passer-by, I transformed into a rockstar. At 5'3'' I'm much too short to be a model. but rockstars have no physical limits.

I also helped assemble a customer approval order worth $68,000 for Mrs. Jessica Seinfeld, wife of Jerry as well as calmly greeted the occasional celebrity and high dollar consumer. Today another intern and I were given a $5,000 order to deliver on Central Park West. Entering the the first floor with sky high ceilings, we were directed to an elevator that took us to heaven. On the top floor, the whole top floor, dwelled the owner of the chicest apartment I've seen in the City. If that wasn't motivation to make it big in New York, I'm at a loss.

Another motivation met five girlfriends and I at a bar on a docked boat floating on the Hudson last night. This time it came in the form of a 6-foot, blackberry and AmEx wielding, free-spirited finance man and his co-workers (ladies and interns included) we all sat down as he bought us at least 7 pitchers of Sangria and dinner for everyone. He lectured us on love, life, and making it in New York. Judging by the multiple waterfront properties he owns, we figured he'd be a good source of insight. We ended the citylit evening with a round of shots and town cars to take us home, all on his tab naturally.

I seem to be catching some of New York's contagious confidence. I feel like I'm beginning to identify with who it is I really am, as cliche as that sounds. Life will never be without pain and frustration, but realizing who you are and having the courage to be that person makes it a whole lot easier.

So as the seagulls have turned into pigeons, the trolleys into open-top buses, the "yalls" into "yous", the bikini-clad beach blondes into androgynous brunette supermodels, and the sand-covered 57 on the seawall into two numbers glanced at by millions as they wait for their subway home, I'll still be the same person, the same confidence, independence, and spirit. Living, learning, and evolving in new york this summer has had more than something to do with that.

Hootie & the Blowfish |MTV Music

114th to Perry

best way to end a fabulous weekend? dinner and gelato with a friend and a solo evening walk to clear your head, see new street corners and mentally prepare yourself for the week ahead.

Camera and Ipod in tow, I casually strolled down Manhattan's west side and continually found myself fatefully walking in and out of romantic 6th avenue scenes. A woman watering the flowers on her terrace, the moonlight flirting with the city's Sunday evening crowd, and couples dipping into a shared cup of ice cream.

I finally made it to the Met today...breathtaking. I wanted to see the American Woman: Fashioning a National Identity exhibit which led me through the decades of American women's fashion and finally ended with a picture and video collage playing at the end that made me want to grab my red white and blue, show off my blonde locks and blue eyes and strut down the streets of New York listening to my american pop as my innate desire to be anything exotic vanished with yesterday's self-consciousness.

I also stumbled across the art of David Hockney in which I completely lost myself and the city around me in. particularly in his 'Caribbean Tea Time" folding screen.

This weekend's preceding events included 2 seats at citifield, 2 cupholders with a steady inflow of Miller light, and 2 amazing bands which comprised one of the most unforgettable concerts, and evenings for that matter. dave matthews and zac brown shared their talents with thousands of their fans on friday night. the scene looking down from section 522 will continue to amaze and intrigue me..being among the thousands of people who paid hundreds of dollars for an experience. those thousands of people mesmerized and hanging on to every note, every lyric coming from one man and his guitar, center stage. One of the best experiences of my life.

The next night, Dave serenaded again, this time from the speakers surrounding my dorm room. As he whispered the sweet sounds of Satellite while i showered, colored in my eyelids and powdered on my blush to get ready for my early birthday dinner, I indulged in a reminiscence of one of my most prominent memories of my parents, pre-divorce. I'm sitting at the kitchen bar with my younger brother and older sister, dining on chicken nuggets and mac n' cheese circa 1995, as my mom curled her lashes and spritzed her favorite perfume and my dad straightening his tie for date night. Satellite, Crash, and Two Step provided the soundtrack for the last half hour before our babysitter arrived.

15 years later, it's now my date night. we catch a cab to Perry st. and sit across from the hudson as i'm spoiled with a chardonnay, delicious three course meal and a little teal box, Tiffany & Co. inside, a perfect fitting, thick banded, concave ring. We followed dinner up with a stroll towards a lit up city sky line and twinkling lights along the hudson with the moon directing the whole scene.

Now, I'm commencing my last three weeks of my internship and I'm moving into the store from the web office. I'm thrilled to meet the Balenciaga and Stella McCartney wearing shoppers and see more of how this world I'm in is run.

Hope you have a wonderful week, i'll end with my favorite song played at Dave's concert this weekend..

Havana Daydreamin

I ended a nearly perfect weekend napping on the beach of Stone Harbor, New Jersey as the sun traced tan lines around my rings and bikini and the sweet sounds of "A Pirate looks at Forty" and "Castles made of Sand" cleared my mind in a mid-day serenade.

Six of us spent our Friday and Saturday nights sharing stories and laughs over homemade concoctions and occasionally getting lost in our own thoughts while watching smoke escape our mouths and float towards the most starlit sky I'd ever seen.

Saturday, between skipping over puddles and ducking under a leopard print umbrella in a fruitless search for sundresses, the three girls existed in a scene one black-and-white background short of a vintage photograph. When greeted with raindrops upon our beach arrival, we sought shelter under the local lifeguard pavilion/rain escape where we found short red shorts belonging to concerned faces peering through the rain towards the ruthless crashing waves.

Just being at a beach again felt like I was home. My toes flirting with the incoming tide and the lingering grains of sand attached to my now sun kissed skin. It was the perfect little escape from the neon lights and stumbling interns in their LBDs which usually paints a weekend night in the city. On my way to work this morning, my coffee seemed to taste a little better, the sun shined a little brighter and the flowers smelt a little sweeter as I felt a little closer to my new home.

I'll end with a quote I stumbled upon in a book of short stories by F. Scott Fitzgerald :

"All life is just a progression toward, and then a recession from, one phrase -- 'I love you.'"