...and no, not in that "fun" kind of way.
I know, I can be so gross sometimes...
So Day One in the showroom for Paris Fashion Week went better than I thought it would, I was just like a duck to water. I'm not sure why I was so nervous this morning, I've done this before, this is hardly my first rodeo in fashion. And besides, today was only a meet-and-greet and a briefing of the collection, to get familiar with what I will be pushing on our clients for the next eight days. The real challenge starts tomorrow, as the showroom will be in a state of panic as models will be tossed around like pieces of meat, ready-to-wear pieces will be flying everywhere, buyers will be complaining because we're behind schedule and showroom directors will be screaming - in every language. Same shit, different showroom.
Before arriving at the showroom this morning, I knew that it was going to be a nice set-up because I was going to one of the biggest French fashion houses, but I wasn't expecting just how nice it was going to be, because in fashion, you just never know. I've been to some budget showrooms of fairly big designers, and was shocked by how makeshift everything was, but today, not so much. During our three hour briefing, a breath-taking view of the Eiffel Tower framed by a double window fashioning wrought-iron detailing, was positioned right behind the designers as they were introducing the Winter 2012 collection. It was a fashion wet dream. If I had fast-forwarded to this very moment back when I was 24 years old and considering going into fashion (and willing to accept even a textile job in Downtown LA), I wouldn't believe this was me, in this conference room that could easily double as a honeymoon suite for newlyweds. My expectations have truly exceeded themselves.
While everything went well today, there was only one little, itty, bitty hitch that was not so dream-like; my uniform arrived. And just as I had suspected, it was a nightmare. The uniform that I was issued - you know the one, where my choices were small or extra small? - was worse than I thought. For the next eight days, I will be wearing a black tube sock that is being passed off as a skirt and a button down shirt that features bizarre hardware on the collar and shoulders, reminiscent of Janet Jackson's Rhythm Nation look. You guys think I'm joking when I say this, but the uniform is not cute and my hips definitely don't lie, as they are protruding out the sides of this air-tight pencil skirt. Damn being Italian! Even at my skinniest, I have always had larger hips and they are best when not accentuated and showcased.
I guess the only thing I can do is take comfort in the fact that there will be seven models presenting the real collection, and that no one will really be watching me waddle around the showroom like J.Lo...in Selena. Maybe I can keep a rolling rack at my side at all times to hide my wide load...hmm, a thought.
Before today, I thought I was starting to become jaded with my life here in Paris, but I was reminded that there are always new experiences to be had, and that I still have that twinkle in my eye from when I first arrived on French soil, even if I am being stuffed in a couture skirt like a pig at a beach roast.
Ah, fashion, it's good to be back...