Thursday
Feb172011
Thu, February 17, 2011 at 2:56PM My First Fashion Week: Part 3
Every season, in our role as an official sponsor of Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week, we ask one novice MBFW-goer to record her adventures and, ahem, misadventures. This February, ideeli’s fearless Assistant Editor, Carmen Villafañe, is our My First Fashion Week correspondent. The 23-year old Miami native, who is usually orchestrating our sales editorials in the office, is experiencing the glam scene at Lincoln Center for the first time—and let’s just say she’s not the retiring type. Here’s the final installment on her exploits!
With three shows to go before I wrapped up my first fashion week experience, I was feeling like an old pro. I had this calm confidence about me—because I’m a fashion insider now, and I know what’s up…right?! So wrong. With Tuesday's tickets to Badgley Mischka in hand, I was late. Very, very late. Train trouble, traffic once I switched to a cab, pretty much the universe saying “Forget it babe, you snooze, you literally lose.” As I sprinted into the tents, it seemed like eons ago that I sat down at my first show, unsure of what to do with my hands while I waited for Luca Luca to start. (That’s my stack of invites below.) The lights dimmed as I slid into my seat. I'm definitely not a pro yet; this was beginner's luck at it's finest.
The show was everything you’d expect from the famed design duo. A one-shouldered, fuschia-sequined column gown begged for an invitation to a gala, and of course, in true Badgley Mischka form, the piece de resistance: bridal. The slim ivory gown with a ruffle that cascaded down from the waist was almost enough reason to make me heed my grandmother’s nagging reminder that “I’m not getting any younger and should settle down.” Almost.
My last day at MBFW was Wednesday, and I was scheduled to attend avant-garde darling Alexandre Herchovitch and the always classic Adrienne Vittadini. As I jaunted up the breezeway towards the tents, where all the street style photogs hang out to snap pictures of fashion's elite, I ate it. Literally, on hands and knees, face 15 shades of red, hyperventilating from my sprint up Broadway. But it wouldn’t be me if it stopped there. While I was trying to access Twitter on my iPhone, I proceeded to tweet the ideeli login information for the free world to see. Crisis was averted by my much more calm and collected co-workers back at the office, but still. All before even stepping into the tents? Lock it up, Carmen! Check out one of my more successful tweets below, streamed live in the lobby.
Luckily the show hadn’t started, so I dusted myself off in my 3rd row seat, and made sure there were no unsightly tears in my stockings as the music cued up. Herchovitch is known for his off-kilter sensibility and dark motifs. I loved that he stuck to a palette of chartreuse and black for a dramatic effect, but tempered it with lady-like lace. And I have a few ex-boyfriends who probably would agree that the straightjacket-strapped coats are perfect for me. That's out one of the designer's hooded numbers below.
Just like that, it was time for my last event of the season. I thought Adrienne Vittadini’s Modern Muse collection was going to be a presentation—where you admire the clothes up close like a museum exhibit. It was packed, and I realized, not only was this going to be a full-on show, but I’d be standing two feet away from some of the most iconic women in fashion. That's them below—from left, Pat Cleveland, Niki Taylor, Irina Pantaeva, Fredrique van Der Wal,Carmen Dell’Orefice, Roshumba, and Carol Alt.
Like real troopers, the supermodels walked twice, dancing and having fun on the runway in a way only established, confident women can do. The practical separates in luxe fabrics were classic Adrienne Vittadini but the real stars were the women that wore them. They personified what style should be, with the inner glow that comes from doing you and loving it—no matter what you’re wearing. Irina and Roshumba work the runway below.
To wrap up what’s been a whirlwind of fashion, fails, and what I hope my future will look like, here are a few gems I picked up on my first fashion week.
The past week has been a whirlwind. I barely slept—a combination of adrenaline and energy drinks had me up until 4:45 a.m. writing my second blog post. My apartment looks like a bomb hit it, with clothes, shoes, bags, and paper invites strewn everywhere from the various ensemble changes throughout the week. I face-planted in front of Lincoln Center—in flats. I spoke to Grace Coddington. This experience—the rush, the clothes, the people, even the fails—is why I got into this crazy biz to begin with. This may have been my first fashion week, but rest assured y’all, it certainly won’t be my last. See you next season!
With three shows to go before I wrapped up my first fashion week experience, I was feeling like an old pro. I had this calm confidence about me—because I’m a fashion insider now, and I know what’s up…right?! So wrong. With Tuesday's tickets to Badgley Mischka in hand, I was late. Very, very late. Train trouble, traffic once I switched to a cab, pretty much the universe saying “Forget it babe, you snooze, you literally lose.” As I sprinted into the tents, it seemed like eons ago that I sat down at my first show, unsure of what to do with my hands while I waited for Luca Luca to start. (That’s my stack of invites below.) The lights dimmed as I slid into my seat. I'm definitely not a pro yet; this was beginner's luck at it's finest.
The show was everything you’d expect from the famed design duo. A one-shouldered, fuschia-sequined column gown begged for an invitation to a gala, and of course, in true Badgley Mischka form, the piece de resistance: bridal. The slim ivory gown with a ruffle that cascaded down from the waist was almost enough reason to make me heed my grandmother’s nagging reminder that “I’m not getting any younger and should settle down.” Almost.My last day at MBFW was Wednesday, and I was scheduled to attend avant-garde darling Alexandre Herchovitch and the always classic Adrienne Vittadini. As I jaunted up the breezeway towards the tents, where all the street style photogs hang out to snap pictures of fashion's elite, I ate it. Literally, on hands and knees, face 15 shades of red, hyperventilating from my sprint up Broadway. But it wouldn’t be me if it stopped there. While I was trying to access Twitter on my iPhone, I proceeded to tweet the ideeli login information for the free world to see. Crisis was averted by my much more calm and collected co-workers back at the office, but still. All before even stepping into the tents? Lock it up, Carmen! Check out one of my more successful tweets below, streamed live in the lobby.
Luckily the show hadn’t started, so I dusted myself off in my 3rd row seat, and made sure there were no unsightly tears in my stockings as the music cued up. Herchovitch is known for his off-kilter sensibility and dark motifs. I loved that he stuck to a palette of chartreuse and black for a dramatic effect, but tempered it with lady-like lace. And I have a few ex-boyfriends who probably would agree that the straightjacket-strapped coats are perfect for me. That's out one of the designer's hooded numbers below.
Just like that, it was time for my last event of the season. I thought Adrienne Vittadini’s Modern Muse collection was going to be a presentation—where you admire the clothes up close like a museum exhibit. It was packed, and I realized, not only was this going to be a full-on show, but I’d be standing two feet away from some of the most iconic women in fashion. That's them below—from left, Pat Cleveland, Niki Taylor, Irina Pantaeva, Fredrique van Der Wal,Carmen Dell’Orefice, Roshumba, and Carol Alt.
Like real troopers, the supermodels walked twice, dancing and having fun on the runway in a way only established, confident women can do. The practical separates in luxe fabrics were classic Adrienne Vittadini but the real stars were the women that wore them. They personified what style should be, with the inner glow that comes from doing you and loving it—no matter what you’re wearing. Irina and Roshumba work the runway below.
To wrap up what’s been a whirlwind of fashion, fails, and what I hope my future will look like, here are a few gems I picked up on my first fashion week.- Let your freak flag fly. The last thing the industry wants is another knock-off. Be yourself! Fashion week is the perfect time to try that orange lipstick you have no idea what to do with. That said; wipe it off before meeting your real life friends for dinner. It doesn’t translate very well.
- Fashionably late is relative. So you might have a few more minutes to work with, but don’t miss Lela Rose’s show because you’re running late. She sure as hell isn’t waiting for you. Moment of silence for that fail of all fails.
- Positive IDs on celebrities. They’re beautiful, but in the heat of the moment, I guarantee all those years of watching E! News will fly right out of your head and they might as well be the guy sitting next to you on the subway. In short, Tyson Beckford, is in fact, NOT Tyrese.
- The only thing you have to be afraid of…is you. My level of anxiety before my first show would have required horse tranquilizers. But by day 6 I was breezing through the tents, waving at Fern Mallis, and chatting up the bartenders—they might as well have set up a cot for me in the lobby. Keep in mind that this week-long world of all things fabulous is populated by real people just like us.
- Make new friends, but keep the old. The best part about this entire experience was getting to share it—be it with a newfound industry buddy, ideeli staffers or the best friends that are there through it all.
The past week has been a whirlwind. I barely slept—a combination of adrenaline and energy drinks had me up until 4:45 a.m. writing my second blog post. My apartment looks like a bomb hit it, with clothes, shoes, bags, and paper invites strewn everywhere from the various ensemble changes throughout the week. I face-planted in front of Lincoln Center—in flats. I spoke to Grace Coddington. This experience—the rush, the clothes, the people, even the fails—is why I got into this crazy biz to begin with. This may have been my first fashion week, but rest assured y’all, it certainly won’t be my last. See you next season!
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