This is when I wake up, but it is not when I get out of bed. I reach for my phone, open Instagram, feel shame for opening Instagram because you’re really not supposed to do that first thing in the morning, but then get distracted by text messages, mostly from Amelia, who has annotated the previous night’s Alexander Wang show in Bushwick. We text back and forth for at least 25 exchanges about the show; she’s much more focused on the spectacle of the show but I think the clothes are kind of great! They remind me of what I call the heyday of New York fashion — you know, that sliver of time between 2008 and 2010 when Phillip Lim and Alexander Wang straight up owned this town. I revel in my nostalgia, she gives zero fucks, and so…I meditate.
In case you’re wondering, I use the Headspace app for my meditation practice, I tend to go for the 10-minute meditations even though you can select ones that are as long as 60 minutes. The set I’m working through right now is on bravery. So far I still feel like a cowardly shrimp but I’m comfortable in my crustacean skin, so that’s something, right? Moving on! I brush my teeth, do some other boring stuff like wash my face and urinate, then I decide that I will go out to get a matcha, not make my own; it’s Sunday, dammit! I needeth not work. So I put on a wool sweater, kneecap leggings and cashmere slippers by The Row because they make me feel extravagant and beautiful, no matter what they say, and then I walk to Le Pain Quotidien to retrieve my warm beverage. You should also know that I have accessorized my wrists specifically for this walk. For as much as we discuss the circus of fashion week, I, for one, am truly in circus mode 365 days a year.
By now I’ve returned home, made an omelette with no fillings, consumed two pumpkin seed crackers and about six spoons full of cottage cheese. The other thing I’ve already done is read the cover story of the New York Times review section. The story was called “Rich People’s Secrets,” and was written by an anthropologist studying New York wealth. One piece of her thesis, which really stuck with me, indicates that while we are all supported in our pursuit of wealth, those who receive it are subsequently ostracized.
I eat more cottage cheese because, I don’t know? I guess part of my new fall persona is acting like I am a 90’s dieter, so where the Slim Fast at? I may also be procrastinating because I have to file a review before my first show (1 p.m., Mansur Gavriel). I set out to write about Area (a cool new brand, read it all here), while oscillating between browser tabs, reading Amelia’s reviews from yesterday (she forgot to mention that Creatures of The Wind was hands down the best thing that has happened this fashion week so far). In another tab, I am searching “windbreaker pants,” because I can’t un-see this look from Tibi.
I’m done writing, FYI. Now I must get drizzessed, which is fashion speak for dressed. I usually try on at least two outfits before I settle on what I will actually wear but this early afternoon it is as if I am possessed by the best version of my stylist self and that version of myself is driving me to my closet, pulling at a pair of Victorian-style white linen shorts by Isabel Marant, which I have owned for four years and which are not clean at all. Then my fingers reach toward the Maison Cleo top that spawned a million blog posts. Before I know it, there’s a black tweed tuxedo jacket covering my shoulders and a pair of fishnet socks and black brogues on my feet.
Lest I forget the pearls and gold beads draped across my neck!
I roll up to the Mansur Gavriel show (I wish when I said “roll up,” what I meant was “by rollerblade”), while on the phone with my sister-in-law. We’re talking about salmon and how she likes cottage cheese, too, which is so much fun (I love real life!) but I have to get off the phone because a big millennial pink box awaits and the gangbuster bag-and-shoe designers of this era are about to launch clothes. Clothes, I tell ya! Fabrics that cover your skin.
In case you’re wondering, there was delightful Italian music to serenade the wears of Mansur Gavriel, which consisted entirely of tonal looks across a span of brown, beige, pink, yellow, navy and red. If you want to see the collection, guess what! You can buy it on Net-a-Porter right now. How’s that for satisfying?
Meanwhile, I link up with English gal pal Pandora Sykes and we walk a block to the Chobani yogurt store for lunch. Both of us power through our meals and I forget to take any photos given all the powering-through in progress, but by the time we are done and have spoken our faces off, we are both set to go to the Sies Marjan show, so that’s what we do.
Sies Marjan was sooooo delicate. At first I was really excited because a pair of cargo pants opened the show and I just love when Harling is right, and then I was even more excited because the theme of the day seems to be tonal dressing, only at this show the use of color is wild in the best way possible. There are so many pastels and I am particularly drawn toward the mint green and lavender, but there are also these pajama suits, modeled by a trio of men and that’s really how I plan to dress next spring. Like a trio of men.
We’ve landed at Sandy Liang’s presentation where there is a patent leather coat with a lavender fur interior. The chosen venue is the Standard in the East Village and there are afternoon cocktails, which I prefer to call COCKtails, being passed around. I am particularly keen on one tank top with chain straps and Man Repeller’s pal Kira is modeling like a champ in the small presentation, among a cohort of beautiful women. Btw, I just checked in on the review I wrote for Area this morning; it’s doing really well. I’m so excited.
Pandora and I get back in my car (if you follow Man Repeller on Instagram, there is a 0% chance you have missed a single one of my odes to our #CARPARTNER!!!) to head toward the DVF presentation. The conversation gets really deep really fast: We cover a Catholic upbringing and how it is different from a Jewish one. We talk about love in all its permutations: finding it, dodging it, wanting it, losing it. We talk about fertility, we sip on bubble tea. By the time we have reached the purported destination, my #CARPARTNER!!! realizes that he accidentally took us to 60th and 10th Avenue instead of 60 10th Avenue, an address on 14th street. It’s fine, Pandora and I have more ground to cover, so as we zip on down the West Side Highway, we also talk about boarding school.
You know how I said Creatures of the Wind was the highlight of this week? I don’t take it back, but holy sequin, DVF ruled! The shoes! The colors! The prints! The fringe. I’ve been cogitating on several different hypotheses regarding what makes a brand successful today and I keep landing on personality. This used to be called brand identity, I think, but that’s too broad a term to describe what it takes to stand out now. Personality is specific, narrowly focused and capable of being plucked from a mile away. Jonathan Saunders is doing such a damn good job honing in on exactly this and to be quite frank, it’s exciting as hell to see a more inclusive brand from a price-point perspective earning this kind of credibility/stamina. See, this is what New York fashion is all about, people!
I’m going to pee in my pants. I don’t want to pee in my pants, so I go home to pee, change really fast and then undergo an obscene craving for udon noodles, so I get back in my #CARPARTNER!!!, this time with my #lifepartner!!!, take a few selfies that make me feel like a contortionist, or at least like my yoga journey is still intact, and then head to udon noodle town USA where I eat tamago and noodles.
Abie updates me on the havoc hurricane Irma is about to wreak on Miami while I update him on my hopes and dreams for the next iteration of Man Repeller. Our conversations seem disjointed and the level of urgency from my end seems disproportionate, so we text everyone we know in Florida until the noodles have finished. I am full of magnesium and it is time boom boom boom for Prabal Gurung then Rihanna. Yes, Rihanna.
Sorry ppl. I blacked out. Bye.
Photos via Leandra Medine; collage by Edith Young with feature image by Daniel Zuchnik via Getty Images.