How I Got Inside the Tents, or How I Hope I Won't Get Denied Next Time Around Because I Wrote This

People are probably wondering how in the world I got past the security checkpoints at Bryant Park last week. While I'd love to say that it was because of the slew of invitations, my killer wardrobe, or my ability to sneak through several layers of security every day, I actually got in the old-fashioned way: through press credentials. I have to say, I was surprised how easily I managed to get access, but apparently, blogging is now an acceptable 'in' for the shows. (Silly me, for not realizing they realized it sooner!)

Certainly, at this point in time, there's no possible way for bloggers to NOT have access to the shows. Maybe not to the extent that Courtorture managed to last season (see the article below). But it's a guarantee that someone in the guest list blogs and will be posting. Obviously, traditional outlets (and publicists) just can't control the flow of information like they used to. Ignore the blogger at your peril.

Sheryl B., a fashion stylist I met at the tents the first night, was kind enough to send me Bloggers in Tents: Fashion Warms to New Media, posted at MediaBistro.com. According to the article, the show organizers decided to officially open up the shows because "these are credible journalists, and if that's the way news is being distributed, then we want to be a part of it." And yes, the 221 official shows were underattended by the "important people" (i.e., buyers, celebrities, traditional media editors), so I guess we were acceptable filler.

Ok, so all this may be true, but they don't officially tell you a few things. Certainly, it's a means of damage control. Woo those bloggers with access and maybe you'll win them over to the merits of your brand (Hey, there's a reason why brands bother with these shows. They're more impressive in person than from a computer, paging through Style.com). It's also a means of officially keeping a sense of exclusivity at these events while maintaining audience membership. Joe Schmo still can't waltz right in through the front door and get a seat (even if half the shows are not so well attended by the invited guests).

As you can see from my pass, it allows lobby access only, not guaranteed entry to the shows. The organizers for each particular label's show control their lists - not the Fashion Week organizers. I certainly wasn't on the show lists. To be fair, my experience is marred by the fact that I signed up last minute, so there wasn't time to invite me even if they wanted to. But I suspect most bloggers who signed up way in advance still didn't get invitations into the show unless they're big. The Sartorialist being a good example. (Scott, did I actually see you in the front row for Anna Sui?) I definitely met quite a few other bloggers, in the waitlist line for each of the shows I attended. What was interesting was that the waitlist also had plenty of invitation holding guests as well. Yup, you read correctly. Even if you RSVP, you still don't get guaranteed anything unless you're important to the designers. You're there to fill in the empty seats if the editor/buyer/celeb doesn't show up. Just like me.

The other thing they don't tell you is that press access isn't free. Anyone wearing one of the dangly passes above paid to play. Depending on when you registered, each pass granted costs $50-$100. And I highly doubt the NY Times and Vogue writers needed to pay (they got invitations to each of the shows). Only the little guys (and gals) like me did. As someone in the press access line ahead of me told me, our registrations got held up because to a certain extent, we don't actually matter to them.

While I'm certainly grateful to get my foot in the tent without a huge hassle (even with the fee), I definitely maintain my skepticism that the sudden inclusiveness is ushering a new era of press democratization. Maybe you'll get an invite next time around if something you say is particularly noteworthy by the designer. But don't forget that even the NY Times can be revoked for a bad review too (and the designers can be likewise publicly punished for doing so). Actually, maybe the waitlist and the standing room aren't so bad. You can't exactly be slapped by an uninvite unless you were allowed at the party in the first place. And after all, I still maintain that the best viewing spots (trumped only by the front row) are actually in the standing room areas.

Or maybe it's because I'm too short to otherwise see.

Designers for Darfur

Lest anyone think that NY Fashion Week is just an 8-day self-absorbed commercial event, the last runway show I went to was a charity and awareness event organized by Designers For Darfur on February 9th at the Roseland Ballroom. I was invited to the event last minute, but I was happy to tag along to see how it would turn out. The organization was recently founded to help bring international attention and donations to Africa's Darfur region, and this was their first event. Guests were encouraged to commit donation pledges after watching a video, highlighting the effects that the genocide has had upon the region, and the show. I don't think anyone in the entire room was unaware of what was going on in Darfur prior to the video, but it definitely served as a sobering reminder.

40+ well-known designers each donated a look for the show - a very impressive feat organized by DFD founders Malcolm Harris, a designer for Mal Sirrah, and Lydia Hearst, heiress and model. Designers were from Heatherette, Chado Ralph Rucci, Malandrino, Donna Karan, Carmen Marc Valvo, Baby Phat, etc. - a wide cross-section of styles and customer bases. All of the runway looks are actually for auction on eBay, with all proceeds given to charity (find better shots by clicking on the photo above).

A lot of effort was put into the front-end of the show - the designers were obviously top-notch and so were the models. The Roseland isn't a minor venue either. I have no doubt that the organizers really believed in this event and pushed as hard as they could, hoping for a greater media splash. Unfortunately, it didn't really come to fruition. It was not actually covered as anything other than another show in most media outlets (if it wasn't ignored completely, which was most of the time). Perhaps everyone was tired by the full week of 200+ shows already given. The other charity event, the Red Dress Collection, to raise national awareness for heart disease in women, actually snagged a First Lady and plenty of press power by kick-starting the week on the first day of shows, in the tents. Obviously, timing didn't exactly explain everything either.

Even the event's own sponsors didn't really push it. Looking through sponsor websites, only Fashion Television actually posted any information about the event. Yet, the nagging truth is that of course, no one had to bother participating at all. Say what you will about their reasons for helping out, it's commendable that at the very least, they made an effort and a commitment.

You can learn more at the Save Darfur Coalition.

The High-Heeled Take a Fall - Off the Runway

I have definitely not been dressing to impress at the tents. Jeans, flat shoes, and maybe a dressy jacket on a good day. Slap on some makeup, and I'm good to go. I was dressed to be comfortable standing around for a few hours. Looking around, it was clear that most of the women (and some of the men), were not taking practicality into account. Not surprising, given the event!

Honestly, I felt like I was the only girl in the place not wearing towering heels, except for the working crew (most of them, anyway). Obviously, my runway view while standing would have been slightly better had I been wearing heels - but is 5'2" going to be much better than 4'10" anyway?

I was in the waitlist/standing line a lot of the time, and every so often, I'd hear a resigned variation of the "my feet hurt" refrain. Unsurprising, given the huge numbers of wedges, pumps, and boots around me. I do wonder, however, if their footwear choice would have been slightly different had they realized how booby-trapped the tents are!

Most of the uncarpeted lobby is cobblestoned - which is difficult enough to manage when it's well-lit, you're sober, and not tired! Right before the shows start letting people in, it's often incredibly crowded in the lobby, so it's easy to lose your footing as well.

But once you get past security to enter the show corridor (past the security guard in the 3rd picture), you need to navigate up the stairs. So, going up is no big deal really, but I've already seen, firsthand, three young women go tumbling down the flight while coming out of the show, into the lobby. Twice, a security guard caught them, midflight. Once, the woman actually landed, but luckily didn't hurt herself. I wonder if the vast number of security guards are really there to protect us from ourselves more than to prevent disorderly conduct!

During shows, all eyes are on the runway, and model wipe outs become something of a shocking and tragically memorable mishap. But come on, these girls are actually professionals! The shoes are super-strapped to their feet (see my commentary here on dressing them). Not only are the runways flat and the women practiced, but most of the shows put a plastic sheet over them to protect the surface from any dirt or loose pebbles that could lead to disaster. The sheet comes off moments before the start. If anyone should be worrying about a spill, it's the audience!

House lights are usually not so illuminating, and the seats are jammed right into each other. Narrow risers and stairs are almost unavoidable. Electrical lines, tripod legs, and taped signs on the floor give plenty of snaggable opportunities. Believe me, I've been in the stand room sections a lot - all the way up in the nosebleed section. It's pretty damn steep and you don't want to fall down the stairs!

If you're lucky and are cool enough to get a seat by invitation (or fast enough to snag one when they need to fill up the house), you have 15 minutes of seated bliss. The standing room section is not kind to those that can't keep their balance. When the lights are off, and everyone's shifting around to get a good look, it sometimes feels like the subway during rush hour.

Once the show's over, the mad surge by the entire audience to the lobby is another source of consternation. Good luck with the stairs, wires, impatient people, and everything else in your way! You're won the game if you make it outside onto the sidewalk without any mishaps.

I tell you, looking fabulously fashionable isn't easy! You're freezing in your skimpy outfit (or boiling with your fur coat inside), your bag's huge and heavy, your feet hurt like hell, and your shoes just might get you killed. But really, if you aren't suffering, you aren't trying hard enough! How else will you get in that shot, taken by an intrepid photographer? Well, you definitely won't be seeing me in any fashion spreads this week. I'll pass on the photo-op and aim for practical (and less costly) comfort!

The Photographers' Pit - Tighter Than Moshing!

I enjoy paying attention to things that other people aren't covering. Particularly, what happens behind the stage - all the unglamorous work that goes into these productions. Today, I managed to snag a few photos of the photographers in action.

I seem to have this weird fascination with the photographers' pit - I really can't explain it. Definitely some admiration mixed in, as these guys allow the fashion sites, blogs, and papers to plaster their pages with money shots. They aren't the TV crews in the lobby or on the floor doing celebrity interviews or 'spot the fashionista.' If you stand or sit near the pit during the shows, you can actually hear the constant staccato 'click click click' throughout the show - even with the music blasting.

It's amazing how quickly they can get in and out with all their stuff. Certainly, they're pros, but nonetheless, they have their heavy duty camera, a stand, a laptop, and sometimes a step ladder to get better angles.

As far as I can tell, their days are pretty simply mapped out. The professional photographers get passes that allow them to get in and out of shows before the general public. Typically, they seem to head into shows about half an hour before seating opens up to set up their equipment and guard their spots. As soon as the last model walks off the stage and the designer does his/her walk out from backstage to receive the applause, they're packing and getting out of the room quickly. If they have a show right after another, they pack up and are crossing over to the next tent room. Wherever I wind up stationed in the room, when I pass by the pit leaving, most of the photographers are gone. When I'm being herding out to the lobby, I often hear the security guards guiding them over to the next entrance and telling them to line up outside the doors.

Some of the more enterprising photographers snag an empty seat or stand way in the back to get a differently angled shot than the crowd in the pit. The second picture shows a model being photographed by both the pit and a photographer sitting near me.

When they're done for the day, they wind up sending their photographs via laptop and wireless to their editors and call it a day. Typically, you see a ton of them hanging around, having a drink, and maybe even taking some shots of the audience. The MAC and IMG lounges in the lobby were particular favorites of theirs, as they offered plenty of space and seating.

Anyway, here goes a synopsis of the photos. The first is the set up for the Michon Schur show in the Salon tonight. If you look above the photographers, you can see the set up for the lights before they start megawatting the runway. The second photo is during the Dragana Ognjenovic show, another smaller designer, in the Showroom. The model is at the foot of the runway, just about to pause in her pose. Third shot - going back to Michon Schur, this is the pit in action, with the lights up and cameras aimed. It's not surprising that most of the models can't see a thing when they step out.

I've been meaning to get the fourth photo all week, but never managed to till today because of the crowds. The more reputable or important photographers get their own taped off 'box' in the pit. I'm more than positive that watching the pit during a shoot would be incredibly interesting. Just in case you were wondering, the photographers do get some help as they do have a set of steps inside.

The last shot is during the Anna Sui show in the huge Tent room. This show was packed, hot, and crazy. The pit was a sardine tin! I swear, when the models were at the foot of the runway, there was almost a surge forward by the cameras.

Although I have to offer a disclaimer - the next few days of posts won't have anything to do with petite fashion - I hope that readers will find the coverage interesting and informative anyway!

Big Girl, You Are Beautiful to Max Azria

When the music started playing and the models walking out, I started laughing hysterically. For at least half the show, and all of the finale, Max Azria had Mika's Big Girl (You Are Beautiful) pumping in the background. I was far from the only one noticing the choice of music, although most of the comments I heard were in regards to how fun it was (it is indeed, a happy bouncing tune, perfectly energetic for the runway), or just remarking about the song at all.

How ironic that this song was used, as the Council of Fashion Designers of America just met that morning to talk about what they're going to do about the issue of skinny models (in WWD.com). Style.com tactfully decided to interpret the music choice as that "to hammer home the point that the three-season-old Max Azria line is more grown-up than its sibling, BCBG Max Azria."

Yeah, um, sure. I never heard the song before last night and was highly amused during the entire show (from SweetLyrics):

Big girl you are beautiful

Walks in to the room
Feels like a big balloon
I said hey girl you are beautiful
Diet coke and a pizza please
Diet coke im on my knees
Screaming, big girl you are beautiful

You take your skinny girl
I feel like im gonna die
Coz a real woman needs a (real man has why)
You take your girl and multiply about four
Now a whole lot of woman needs a whole lot more
...
Curves in the right places

The NY Times's article today about the dilemma of unhealthy models, Looking Beyond the Runway For Answers on Underweight Models, hits upon most of the complications of the recent discussions. Yes, it is complicated, and the other activities mentioned that put a strong emphasis on weight gain or loss show this (dancing, wrestling, jockeying, etc).

Regardless, whether as a protest against artist limitation or as a jab to the hysteria, the song and show definitely stuck in my head! (And sorry, Max Azria didn't back the song up with appropriately large ladies - the models were still typically thin, athough I guess according to the Times, not quite as thin or as young as last season's go around.)

Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week New York Fall 2007

When I told one of my friends I was trying to decide what time to visit Bryant Park last Saturday, he advised me to avoid the area entirely for the next week. After all, that crazy fashion week thing tends to cause a big snarl up with activity - the skating rink even had to close early! When I told him that the shows were the reason I was going, he was a little incredulous that I was seriously willing to submit myself to the crowds. Heck, I was a bit surprised myself!

I have incredibly mixed feelings about going this week. Certainly, I can say that I wanted to experience how things were as a regular (waitlist) show attendee from the front stage. No dressing models this time around. Instead, I walked through the front doors and just watched a lot of shows. The only show that I can even pretend was related to petite clothing was the Ellen Tracy show I just came from tonight - and none of the stuff coming down the runway was likely to be the final petite selection anyway (no, no petite models, don't be silly!). But honestly, despite my somewhat ruthless and unsentimental view about the shows (i.e., the week long clothing commerical), I confess that I still am a bit caught up in the whole hoopla and glamour. As a woman, I think it's probably near impossible to avoid it.

Anyway, I'll try to post a bit about my experience and upload some non-standard photos. Like my previous posts on fashion week, I'm probably not going to bother posting the usual stock photos since there are hundreds of lovelier ones elsewhere - check out Style.com and NY Magazine's coverage. Since this is my first experience with the shows from this end, I'll try to share that experience with you, rather than give any post-show analysis. I know I'll be fixated by the camera pit again, so I apologize in advance!

This shot is actually of the center lobby space, right around the fountain. The waitlist line wraps around it, and generally, it's set up for you to admire the accessories. Note the screens - they play through the previous shows so that you have something to watch while waiting for your late-starting show.

NY Fashion Week - the Skinny on the News

This entry isn't going to be a style commentary - admittedly, my taste is pretty mainstream, not edgy or progressive. Honestly, it's mostly going to be a rant. If you want the "official" coverage, check out Style.com. Instead, here are some of my personal impressions of being a part and attendee of Olympus Fasion Week for the Spring 2007 collections. Sorry, we were asked to not take pictures while working, so you'll have to satisfy yourself with my prose for the most part. Working at fashion week opened my eyes to a lot of things. I never bought into the razzle-dazzle of the "beautiful people", so I approached it fully as a learning experience. And boy, did I learn a lot. My more mundane (but practical) understandings were posted a few days ago here, but I wanted to cover some of my emotional impressions too.

Working backstage as a dresser, I had a lot of down time. We came early and didn't really need to - except for the shows that had complicated looks or multiple/confusing costume changes. We didn't cost anything, so why not have the reassurance of everyone being ready? (And yes, the shows partially depend on the sweat of free or highly underpaid labor. No doubt about it.) Most of my prep work involved a lot of waiting around, with a few moments of frantic dressing a few minutes before they step onto the runway (less chance to muss the clothes), or quick undressing/dressing if a model was to wear more than one outfit. The stylists had a lot more to handle and tended to be mostly and noticeably short women. I guess some of them just want to be close to the action, since they can't be on stage.

A lot of my impressions came down to two things: hunger and efficiency. Hunger in all respects were clearly visible - the competitiveness of the photographers in the pits (I was perpetually waiting for an avalanche of equipment and photographers to go tumbling down - never happened), the actual aching and obvious surpressed hunger of the models, and the hunger of the emerging designers to make it this season. The efficiency and routinization of the events was also a thing to behold. Events always started late, but once they started, they were as precise as clockwork. Audiences rushed out of the door so fast that the halls were almost empty a minute after the designer stepped out to say goodbye. Tiny armies were backstage making sure that the troops were fed, models done up, clothing stored, and interviews given and conducted.

A lot of hard and frantic work goes on behind stage to pull off the shows. An enormous amount of money is also put into the event. At it's best, the efficiency of the hair and makeup artists is phenominal - seeing about 5 makeup, hair, and clothing people crowd around a model to get her back on stage with a completely new look in under 2 minutes is amazing. A lot of the efficiency, though, involves dehumanizing the model. Sadly, that part appears to be unpreventable. The model is already dressed but there's little bits of lint all over her chest - so you run the lint brush over her, just as if it weren't on a real human, but a clothes hanger. You don't have time to feel badly that you're practically ripping off her high heeled shoes to undress her between looks. Neither the nail artist or the model has time to wait for a stripping solution to disolve the nail glue, and so the fake nails must painfully be ripped off - both of the are already late for their next shows. The designer moves the model around like a mannequin because he's so focused on last minute touches to his clothes and how it's fitting a human being - while ignoring the person inside his clothes. The models are indeed, walking clothes hangers, both on and behind stage.

Hunger has been a topic of great concern lately. The last week or so has been touched by the news of Madrid's fashion show. They decided that any woman walking the shows must be above a certain weight. "Organizers say they want to project an image of beauty and health, rather than a waif-like, or heroin chic look." The New York Fashion shows didn't follow suit. The NY Times of course followed up post haste with a full blown article - When Is Thin Too Thin? by Eric Wilson today. "Linda Wells, the editor of the beauty magazine Allure, said there were moments during the shows when she could hear gasps in the audience at their appearance. 'What becomes alarming is when you see bones and start counting ribs,' Ms. Wells said."

While I applaud Mr. Wilson's reporting, I don't particularly believe that he supports the sentiment. Perhaps I am too cynical, but I was actually sitting not 5 feet away from him and some of the other writers from the NY Times at one of the shows. They weren't particularly dismayed by the women walking in the show. No gasps were heard from them - they were in fact, seemingly bored with the whole affair. I should, perhaps, give them the benefit of the doubt and say, perhaps they've been too numbed by the experience to notice. Or perhaps, it was only the newbies like me who were gasping - those who haven't yet become desensitized to image of skin covered bones walking down the aisles and runways.

Maybe I should have sat next to them during the Rosa Cha bathing suit show. This was the first one I saw from the audience. I was in the standing room section at the back of the hall, and even there, I was aghast when the models emerged from behind stage. Very tiny bathing suits were worn, so there wasn't much to hide the ribs, hip bones, and knobby joints of the women parading down the stage. I was quite mistaken in believing that the swimsuit models might be a bit curvier - after all, these were supposed to be sexy suits no? Frankly, they were so uncurvaceous, that they could have been men without their naughty bits. It looked like bandaids and tiny little bikini bottoms. Like toy soldiers for the final bow out, they were all the same exact height and looked almost exactly the same impersonal type. I also came to suspect that the models at this show weren't any less thin than anywhere else.

It was somewhat surprising to see that when offstage, many of the models seemed awkward and uncomfortable about their lankiness and their height. They almost all wore flats and had an almost dowager hunched look about their shoulders. These women didn't actually seem all that comfortable in their own skin off stage. I guess it's hard being a tall woman, no matter how idolized. It's shocking to realize that you can be used to seeing anything - like lots of bony ribs and hips, and thinking that it's just plain normal.

So, after barely a week of looking at towering stick figure models up close and personal, the feelings of years of built up "I'm too skinny-ick" thoughts have somewhat abated. While certainly a personal hurrah for me (well, we all have our personal body issues don't we?), this still strikes me as a rather perverse thing. Great, I have a better self image. But that's only because I started out thinking that I'm too thin. It's a little shocking, that somehow, less than a week around a ton of incredibly skinny tall women has shaken a view I've held for at least a decade. I can only imagine the influence this experience would have on woman with actual curves - you know, one with real hips and a full chest.

Modeling agencies cried foul when Madrid's show cut out the super thin - they didn't believe it was the industry's fault or responsibility that generations of women had body issues or eating disorders. How ridiculous, I snorted when I read this. Of course it is their doing! And it is ours too for romanticizing and fetishization these models. When observed closely from a few inches away undressed, these girls were freakily skinny and awkward looking. They are compared to gazelle, but the first thing that came to mind when I saw them up close was newborn horses. Seeing some of them practically stumble around backstage, I don't know how they managed to keep upright and strut once they were on stage. From a model card, I read the following measurements: 5'10", size 2, size 10 shoes, 33" chest, 22" waist, 34" hips. (Hell, I don't even have a 22" waist, and I'm a foot shorter!) This cannot be natural slenderness but some sort of combination eating disorder/drug use/smoking habit/overexercise. But somehow, we as the audience are only dazzled by their height, their slenderness, their fabulous and glamorous image.

Some of the other women working backstage were practically sighing and oogling the models. I heard more than one utter something like 'oh, I love watching the models get ready. I wish I was able to be a model!' Apprently, what's not to like? It's practically the lifestyle of the stereotypical kept woman. They had their hair, nails, makeup, and clothing attended to by people like me. But looked at it another way, these girls don't really own the bodies they have. Everything was free to be touched, massaged into place, primped. Another image crossed my mind - a groomer attending to a much loved pet poodle. Am I souring your impression yet?

Dressers, Stand By Your Racks!

I wouldn't have bothered attending at all had I not been given an opportunity to work backstage as a dresser for a few runway shows. Unless you're invited, it's really hard to attend otherwise. My first and last ones were both in the tents at Bryant Park, and the rest were scattered around in art galleries or other open spaces. As a volunteer, I was to help a model get into the designer's ensemble without mishap, which includes clothing, jewelry, shoes, and other accessories. Since the clothing pieces were actually prototypes, it was important to make sure that everything got returned. When the show ended, I was responsible for making sure everything the model wore was accounted for and packed up.

The first show was a sudden shock for me when I stepped in backstage, an hour and a half before the official start time. After checking in just inside the back entrance, I was directed to the prep area. It was surprisingly sparse but frantic with activity. The makeup and hair areas were filled with long tables and chairs. Clip lights were mounted and floor length mirrors were precariously propped against tent poles horizontally. It literally felt primitive and tent-like, as all the "pretty stuff" was reserved for the front house or on the models themselves. A high profile show, the designer's crew had ordered food from Balthazar and there were even tiny bottles of champagne (which were popped and tossed back with enthusiasm way before the show even started) mixed in with the soda cans. Most of the models hadn't even shown up yet at this point. I learned afterward that most shows start late and the models usually were scurrying in from another venue's runway. Shows started late either because they were waiting for key audience members (buyers, press, celebrities) or for models.

The backstage experiences blended together for the most part. It is always busy backstage. Make-up, hair, and nail artists had to prep the "girls" and sometimes men as soon as they walked in. Dressers were usually fussing with the loose threads, but mostly lounging about till "first look" was called a few minutes before the show started. Shoes were tried on and were sometimes switched up or shared. Photographers with backstage passes stalked about, snapping up shots left and right, usually getting in the way of the preppers. If the press or non-preppers were preventing us from doing our jobs, we were given permission to practically shove them out of the way, as the timing for these events don't allow much flexibility once the show starts. The designer(s) alternatively hurried about with last minute tweaks and fittings, chatted it up with friends or staff, or was giving full blown interviews to TV crews.

When the clothing arrived and was hung on wheeled clothing racks, everything was still bagged and needed to be inspected and unwrapped. "Looks" were tagged separately and were numbered in the order that they were to appear on the runway. An oak tag sign was included with each look, listing the clothing, jewelry, shoes, and other details that were part of each ensemble. A photo of the full outfit was included so we knew how to dress the models, and the first name (if necessary, last initial) and a picture of the runway model was attached to the tag. We delinted and unbuttoned/unzipped at this point so that clothing could be slipped on as quickly as possible. Once we were assigned an outfit or outfits, we were reminded to stay by our rack and be available to the models whenever they needed to get dressed.

I was always assigned to pretty easy outfits - most of them were just one piece dresses with few accessories. The other dressers, mostly women, were usually from FIT. Some of them were also new, but others had been doing this for years. Most of them also seemed to be interested in becoming stylists. They usually came prepared with a delinter roller, tiny scissors, and other tools. I came empty-handed but usually borrowed if I needed to.

The models were usually prepped by hair, makeup, and nail artists before they changed. Models remained dressed in street clothes until they are asked to change into their first look. This is to minimize damage or creasing of the clothing. Linen was probably the worst in this regard. Shirts had to be carefully slipped off as hair and possible hairpieces and hats needed to remain undamaged. Sometimes, this wasn't possible as they sometimes showed up with tight necked shirts - you'd think that they'd make sure to wear button-downs or wide necked items! Women did not wear bras under any of the outfits on the runway, and always came wearing a nude thong. Men showed up in whatever standard clothing they had - which was sometimes problematic.

Male models didn't really need our help, as they practically dressed themselves. Pretty much our only responsibility with them was to make sure their clothing got back on the hangers after the show. Zippers, hook and eye closures, ties, buttons, shoes, and jewelry were more plentiful amongst the women's outfits. Most models wanted their high heeled shoes strapped on as tightly as possible so that they could walk securely during their aggressive runway struts.

Most of the shows I did had very few models that had to walk down the runway with more than one outfit - except for the very last show. This was a blessing, as otherwise she literally would have a minute or two to strip and reclothe in the new outfit, change shoes, and possibly have hair and makeup retouched. Probably the most problematic items were women's shoes, as they often had to be wrestled on and were sometimes difficult to latch, tie, or otherwise manage. And even though shoes usually stayed the same between looks for a model, shoes needed to be off so that the first outfit could be removed. The clothing for the second outfit was slipped on quickly, and as zippers buzzed and buttons were buttoned, shoes were again strapped on. A few models had to change into three different outfits!

Once every model is in his/her first outfit, they are lined up in order and the music starts pumping. The crazy period is very short and is concentrated to those ten or more minutes that the show is actually running. If a model has to change, there is a mad rush of makeup artists, hair stylists, and dressers towards the model as soon as she steps off the stage to get her prepped for the next look. For the last show, I was responsible for helping with the shoes for changing models. Because of the onslaught of so many bodies, it's actually hard to try to, say, get her shoe off when she's hopping around on one foot to get the tight pants off and the makeup artist and other dressers are pressed close and are in the way. Somehow, I managed and she's sent out again in the lineup.

Once every look is presented, most shows end with a finale - but not always. If they do it, every model is again paraded onstage for a sweep before the designer goes out and greets the audience. Because of this, it was important for the models not to step out of the clothing before the end of the show. Backstage helpers join in with the audience by clapping and congratulating the designer on a successful show.

At this point, the show is over and it becomes very crowded behind stage. Tons of people from the audience pour in. Interviews are being conducted and the noise gets rather loud. The makeup, hair, and nail artists pack up and leave as soon as possible if they don't have to do anything else with the models. The models toss off their last outfits as quickly as humanly possible so they can hop over to their next gig. Dressers must rehang each garment and account for each accessory. Looks are rebagged and condensed onto as few racks as possible. Everything accounted for, we are thanked and dismissed, and usually wander into the front of the now eerily empty house and make a beeline for the tent lobby, which allowed entry into all the tent venues (it's one giant tent that is compartmentalized). Trade publications are stacked up, ready to be grabbed, and it's now time to snag a complimentary drink and relax!

And that's the whole crazy process, more or less. Pretty straight forward but insane! My next entry will be about my impressions and feelings about the experience, so check back soon!

Olympus Fashion Week - Spring 2007

Sorry if my posts have been a little less focused recently - I've been volunteering part of the time at the shows in and out of Bryant Park the last few days. This was my first Fashion Week experience, and I'll be writing about my impressions about it as a novice shortly.

While it certainly isn't a place to check out the latest petite fashions, I saw it as a good opportunity to see how the designer ready-to-wear collections are presented to buyers, press, and fashionistas around the world. Much like sausages and legislation, the actual process of putting on a show is a lot more messy than the end production lets on. Since very few people outside of the industry get to see the guts of the process, my next post will be an account of my experiences as someone looking in from outside.

The first picture is of the familiar entrance to the tent - and about as close as most non-ticketholders can get to the action. The second is a shot of the inside display in the lobby. For those of you that would like to get a look at some of the models and designers, you can stalk to your heart's content near the back entrances (last picture). You'll be sure to see someone famous flitting in or out - and if it's right after a show finishes, you'll see a flood of models walking out.