Reality Check

I look at the walls carved out of the Earth each time the train arrives at the station, lights flashing by as we slowly come to halt. And all I can ever think about is that ride "Earthquake" at Universal Studios. And I envision the ground shifting, a pipe bursting overhead, and a fire starting. Then I realize that it's real life. Is that weird?

The Fashion Student's Manna

No. This isn't my room. Though there are moments when it looks this tragic. But that's neither here nor there. Here's the story:

I went to school today to get some homework done, and I hop on the elevator and there is this girl with boxes and boxes of stuff. In broken English, she tells me in more or less words, that if I wanted any of it that it's on the 7th floor. "Wait, what?" I respond. And the doors open to the 7th floor, and I see students delving into boxes grabbing whatever they could put their paws on. "Oh." And I hop off, becoming completely distracted from what I came to do.

So I scavenged. I have all the zippers I could possibly need for the rest of my life. That, amongst other things; including hooks and eyes in case you ever need some. I stuffed my locker with all of the things I couldn't carry. And believe it or not, my stash was modest compared to the others. At one point, I was literally in that big box, second from the left in the photo, looking for buttons, because hey, I might need them one day. If you look to the right of the photo there are these tall, black cases. One girl filled one of those up and took it home. It was a free for all. It was great.

Where did all of this stuff come from? Phi, a women's designer luxury fashion apparel company, went out of business and sent their remaining supplies to Parsons, all for the taking. And what do you know. Free anything is perfect for the broke college student. It was like when God sent manna from the heavens when the Isrealites needed food in the wilderness.

I like to look at it as being rewarded for going to school on a Friday to do homework.

Fashion Weak

Happy. I haven't felt this happy in a very long time. Last year was a little rough, and I certainly had my moments of elation, but this kind of happy is the type where you find yourself completely satisfied with your life, and yourself. And excited about where you might be heading.

Lately it has taken everything in me to keep myself from jumping out of my skin. Starting with that out of control snowfall (so beautiful!), all the way through Fashion Week, I couldn't ask for more. Life is so incredibly good right now that it actually makes me a little nervous; nervous because the last time everything was so perfectly in place, it all slowing started spirally downward and before I knew it my world was crumbling at my feet. But, a very wise friend told me, "It's just a new, fresh, awesome life. Nothing to be scared of. Take it in and pretend your world is perfect."

So back to Fashion Week. Five shows down and now it's dunzo. And I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I had this glamorous experience, or had this really important job. But I like that I was a part of something so big, even if it was in the smallest way possible. (It's kind of like in cheerleading. You know that being on the sidelines doesn't really matter; it doesn't make you any cooler. But you become a part of something bigger than yourself. And THAT'S pretty cool.)

ANYWAYS, the first show I did was at Bryant Park. It was Mik Sire by Eric Kim. (The one I blogged about in the post before.) But really. How fortunate is it that I got to do Bryant Park the last season before they move it to the Lincoln Center? Let's talk about that. Oh, then there's Alexander Berardi, 23, and former Parsons student. Now let's talk about the Betsey Johnson's show. I loved how involved she was, hanging out pre-show, watching the models walk up and down the hay-covered runway. Dude, she was friends with THE Andy Warhol, Pop Art icon (no pun intended). THAT is out of control. And the next show was so fun. The Blonds. Great crowd, and GREAT clothes. And my personal fave of the week. And the last one, Adrienne Landao, was different. It was a presentation and not a runway show, with five separate vignettes. It was very classy. People walking around, wine in hand, admiring the furs, and the models striking a pose for anyone who wanted to take a picture, and sneaking a cookie from the display when no one was watching.

So maybe Fashion Week interfered with my sleep, just a little. But whatev. Sleep is always an option. Fashion Week, however, is only twice a year.

I hope this doesn't come off as if I'm bragging. I'm just really enthusiastic about life and about living. And I would like you to be a part of it.

And just to be clear, using the homophone for "week" in the title was intentional.

Heart of the City: Bryant Park

We walked through the back and entered the main showroom. And it was exactly how looked on TV. The black walls, the white chairs, and the long, white runway. It's Mercedes Benz Fashion Week, and the last one at Bryant Park. And I was there, standing under the big tent.

We helped set up, assembling gift bags and piling papers on the seats, doing anything they needed to get done. A little salt and pepper haired Hawaiian woman came out, telling the male models where to stop, how fast to walk, not to cut the corner, etc. She was funny. And she kept yelling at one of the guys who wouldn't get off his phone. Then as the time for the show to start grew closer, we headed to the front to check people in. A bit hectic. "Do you have an affiliation?", "Spell that again for me, please," "I'm sorry. You're not on the list," all phrases that became all too redundant tonight. Alas, the hoard of people disappeared into the showroom. And, running 30 minutes behind, it was almost time to start. The lights went dim, then flashed on, and the music started playing.

I found myself nodding my head as the models walked by. One of the models passed, and seemed awkwardly hunched over. Turtle-like, I would say. I scanned the seats, and in a room where most people were dressed in black, there was an older woman with a hot pink turban and a hot pink fur coat. This made me smile. I looked over to where the media was set up; steps filled with photographers, snapping their photo as the model hit the end of the runway, then, as if rehearsed, bringing down their camera simultaneously to check out their latest shot. It was beautiful in a way. Synchronized swimming-esque.

They did the finale walk, and Eric Kim, the man behind Mik Cire, did a final walk with his baby son. He exited and the lights shut off. The show was over.

What a great night.

Jenna and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day

"I went to sleep with gum in my mouth and now there's gum in my hair and when I got out of bed this morning I tripped on the skateboard and by mistake I dropped my sweater in the sink while the water was running and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day."
— Alexander and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day

Some days just start off not so good and when that happens, sometimes you ought to just go back to bed and wait for the next day to arrive.

Be advised, this blog is going to include a lot of complaining and whining. Bitch session 100%. So I apologize in advance. But ya can't say that I didn't warn you.

First, let me make a list of grievances that slightly annoy me on a day to day basis. But I grit my teeth, breathe, and think "big picture", because things could always be worse. And at the end of the day I am, of course, just grateful to be here. And this has nothing to do with the family I am staying with. They are lovely. But this is not what I signed up for.
- The lock is perpetually jammed. It literally takes me 5-10 minutes to unlock it. Not exaggerating. The other night, the neighbor was on his terrace, and I had been there so long that he offered to help. He couldn't unlock it. But his huge friend luckily pulled up in his car soon enough and was able to get it unlocked.
- The fridge is broken. Still.
- I have no shelves to put all of my supplies-- books, notebooks, paint, 49302 types of paper, sewing materials. It is truly testing my organizational skills.
- I have no desk or place to work. I can't work at the dining table. Sometimes their friends/family stay over. And my cousin-ish in law on my dad's side still sort of lives here. Point is, there is always someone sleeping in the living room. And I end up working on the floor, which can't be good for my back. Or I do my hw in bed, which isn't good psychologically. The bed is made for sleeping.
- Since he still sort of lives here, his things are still in the room I'm sleeping in. Which is another reason why my things are all over the place and don't have a home of their own.
- TFC is always on.
- Finding a way to church is always a task. I don't have my car. And I'm in Jersey. That's a problem. And I feel like a nuisance.
- The commute isn't bad. And neither is the walk. But when it's late and the shortest distance from the station to the house includes an alley, I'm going to opt for a cab. So I made a rule for myself, that I wouldn't walk through that alley after 9ish, 9:30. For safety's sake. Good rule. Except that I get home that late from school, or this, that, and the other thing virtually everyday. It adds up. I'm not made out of money.

So there's that. And here is an abbreviated version of this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day:
- Dad called and we argued about my living situation. The night prior I listed the grievances for my mother.
- Went to pick up a package from the post office hoping it'd make me feel better. (It was from Lex and Cass!) BUT they wouldn't let me have it because I didn't have anything with the new address on it. Problem: I'm not going to. So they said they'd deliver it, but there's not going to be a day anytime soon that I'll be home to sign for it. So what the hell am I supposed to do?! AND I'm supposed to be getting some books in the mail as well.
- I was about to leave to go fabric swatching, and wanted to warm up some food before I left. There was food in the microwave, and a vat of fish and its contents spilled all over my jacket and pants. One, it looked like I threw up all over myself. Two, the smell was rancid.
- I had to buy a SmartCard, which you use to take the train, and the machine stole $5. So I had to give it $5 more.
- Mood was f'n closed.

Get. Outta. Here.

So what did I do? Shop, of course. Retail therapy at its best. Besides, I need more black clothes if I'm gonna be working Fashion Week ;)