Back when I first started going to NYFW (nearly a decade ago) I really thought mean girl behavior was the norm. I thought it was ok for people to be purposely rude and dismissive to me because, well…Fashion Week! And honestly, I was just so happy that little ‘ole me (I was half the writer I am today) was in the mutha freaking building.
I was among the early set of bloggers that were “allowed” to attend NYFW. This was way before the term influencer was coined and now overused. Bloggers attending NYFW was almost unheard of and we were surely envied by our fellow bloggers and frowned upon by most of the top editors (one lady editor poured wine IN my bag and swore I spilled it). IMG seemed to pity us a bit back then and entertained our presence at the exclusive fashion event. My boyfriend and I owned an online fashion publication called, Iconography. Sometimes I think about bringing it back (but that’s whole ‘notha blog post!).
Even though sometimes I get mad annoyed at the idea of NYFW, I look back and I have so many seriously mind-blowing memories.
Both good and bad, but mainly good.
Me and my crew would hoard a little area near the Arizona Iced Tea buckets (obviously for the access to the outlets, not the tea!). The rule was, one of us had to stay posted up at all times. We dubbed our little corner of the tents “Camp M” because between the 8 of us we were all from Maryland and Michigan.
Each season I’d attend somewhere between 70 to 80 shows in one week! That’s twice a year! After the week was over, we headed back to Baltimore to write about each show.
I’ve since given up on my NYFW appearances and let the newcomings enjoy the festivities (read: How Bloggers Can Get Invited To NYFW)! Now I only attend my favorites shows or those shows that give me a seat assignment. #BougieBlogger. Please don’t judge me because you wouldn’t get all dressed up just to stand in the back of the room to say you were there either (or would you?).
Now, my entire mindset has changed!
The idea of putting that much work into something just to be pissed on because I’m Black or Fat or Black and Fat is not something I’m willing to subject myself to… anymore. The judgement of assuming that I’ve stolen someone’s email to get in a show is beyond insulting. My feelings would be hurt but now…I don’t have any more f*cks to give. Now, I’m just mad!
I can also tell when someone is surprised that I’m someone who owns a vagina. They assume that I’m posing as Ty Alexander, because he’s really a young hip gay white male who lives in some swanky loft in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. That use to be a goal of mine, minus the gay white male part. My favorites are those young pretentious and most often new interns that pose as PR girls who briskly skim past my name and seat assignment because they feel that I’m not worthy to be in the building (or they’re just hating because they’re working the door instead of sitting front, second or even third row at the show?!).
I’ve come to the conclusion that those young pretentious and most often new interns that pose as PR girls who briskly skim past my name and seat assignment because they feel that I’m not worthy to be in the building don’t get to have that much power over me anymore.
I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a brilliant creative woman (the nerve of me to think such a thing) who happens to be gorgeous and Black (the nerve of me to think such a thing) and doesn’t need NYFW to validate my greatness.
I use to believe that attending NYFW meant I was an “official writer”. But I didn’t realize that I was basically begging for show invites.
I was begging to be validated.
That day is gone!
Gone are the days of me just writing about things because everyone else is. I’m gonna write about what I want, when I want and how I want. Thank you for ALWAYS supporting me!