Last week, I went into the city and worked at New York Fashion Week. That’s right, read that phrase again. Your humble &tost-er worked behind the scenes, rather than silently judging looks behind her laptop. As a huge stepping stone in my fabricated fashion career, I applied to be a NYFW Intern for L’AGENCE on February 8th and made my way into the city to provide my unpaid labor for a glance behind the scenes of Anna Wintour’s world. I was ready to break up dramatic model fights, hold a clipboard and shake my head at the NYU baddies pretending to be on the list, and in all honesty, steal some shoes. Sue me!
On the call sheet I was provided with the day before the show, my only instruction was to show up at the venue at 10:30am and wear all black. In classic Lila fashion, I put on my tassel loafers and decided to make the most out of the fashion constraints by throwing on an off-the-shoulder black sweater with my vintage Max Mara buckle trousers. I tied on my chunky heart necklace and put my hair into clips, finishing the look off with my conspicuous Edna-esque glasses. Monotone but dramatíque, if I do say so myself.
The morning of, I took the Q subway down, where I was squished between finance bros on the least-sexy train in all of New York City. My mode of transportation was contingent upon speed and efficiency, not glamor. Upon arrival, I met the other handful of fashion girls working for L’AGENCE - to my surprise, there were only a few FIT and Parsons people, the majority commuting in from large state schools to get a glimpse of city life. Even more to my surprise, I was in a sea of Zara blazers and business casual boots. Read into that sentence what you will.
First walking in, I was immediately entrenched in the fast-paced scene. Looking to my right was hair and makeup, where I saw the models in their custom Eberjey robes. Straight ahead of me was the event space itself, covered in wires and camera equipment being set up by men in black caps running around in a frantic state. I was directed backstage, where I was tasked with steaming the clothes before the models put them on. The production coordinator handed me the fashion weapon and my heart started pounding - I had never used a steamer before in my life. Luckily, anyone with an IQ over zero could figure it out, so I started off my steaming journey seamlessly. We spent the first hour and a half prepping our models’ styling kit by organizing, hanging, and admiring the clothes. The line itself had several knockouts - a fabulous fur coat, a hand-embroidered red gown, and a tweed pantsuit that instantly reminded me of the genius that is Chanel. The rest of the looks? I'd say they were a blend between corporate casualty and the Zara $100+ section. Then the moment came when each girl was assigned a model to attend to, identified by a polaroid displaying our names in meager little text next to the image.
The models came in towering above me. Almost all of them were incredibly nice, with a few dramatic exceptions. I helped mine get dressed behind the curtain in her tweed ensemble with a gold-chain belt and clip-on YSL earrings. After the preliminary styling, I ushered my model to none other than Sofia Karvela, renowned stylist who first got into the industry assisting the stylist gods of Sex and the City. I watched her in awe as she worked her magic, taking the looks from regular to elegant and pristine with accessories and a french tuck. I stood by the accessories table to pass her rings and bracelets as she yelled “Odessa, can I have some double stick tape my love?” Calm the environment was not, but there was no shortage of love and appreciation oozing from Karvela. Looking at the makeup and hair room from afar, I saw hair stylists take a collective deep breath now that their job was done, giving massages to stylists who had entered the hot seat.
After styling, all of the models went to walk the pre-recorded presentation, where I saw firsthand how the cameras and drones worked with the lighting team and the Fashion Director to make the brand’s FW24 vision come to life. There was music, heightened voices giving pointed directions to the models, and an ungodly amount of smizing (shoutout Tyra Banks for my vocabulary). After the video was recorded, the models positioned themselves around the room to prepare for the guests to come and admire the clothes for three hours. That's right, the models weren't walking. They were standing still for the entirety of the event as people walked around them to take photos of the clothes and feel the fabrics. The theme of the presentation was “Into the Woods,” and the event space was decorated floor to ceiling with faux trees and nature paraphernalia.
As guests started to arrive, the interns were ushered backstage, so as not to interact with the influencers, editors, and socialites. Daring to live on the edge, I snuck into the presentation, where I saw the likes of Brooke Shields, Ella Rose, Zanna Roberts Rassi, and Pookie, among others. I walked around the event space with my boxed water in hand, knowing that my job was nearly over and I could start to enjoy myself. I quickly learned that enjoying myself meant standing in the corner as people in $1,000 ensembles walked by me, in my all-black look with my L’AGENCE backstage tag, asking me where they could find the bathroom. Glamor! After repeatedly being asked to go back - and attempting to fool higher-ups that I was a different person by taking on and off my glasses - the event ended. The girls came tumbling in, shivering with bloody feet while I was lounging on the dark leather chaise, topping off my lunch of seared tuna and kale salad with the matcha churros the brand ordered for our lunch. If I have learned anything from my stint at fashion stardom, it's that the life of a model sucks. Also, bring to-go containers to take food in, because if you're not getting paid, you might as well take advantage of the food for the next 3-5 days.
Back on the Metro North, I left my 24 hours of NYFW behind me and made my way back to suburban Connecticut. Looking back on the day, working Fashion Week fundamentally changed my perception of what I want to do when I “grow up.” Though it’s sparkly and outright fabulous, this side of the fashion industry is not for me - any hint of the Devil Wears Prada attitude and I’m running for the hills. When I was walking around the presentation, I could feel the social anxiety oozing out of guests, trying to assess who they should talk to based on Instagram followers and the quality of their coats. I had never been in a space that adhered to such an overt, strict social hierarchy. Lucky for me, I was so low on this hierarchy that dare I say I wasn’t even on it.
I love clothes and I love schmoozing the crowd, but I can confidently say that NYFW is not for me. I prefer being behind my computer, talking to my community of fashion nobodies that adhere to the “no rulez” mindset of the industry. Materialists on the outside, nice people at heart. Who knows, maybe I’ll be back at fashion week as a model …. just kidding!
And no, I didn’t steal any shoes.
Until next season, Fashion Week!
You are soooooo cool