cat eyes & thigh highs at kate spade new york a/w 2015.

Tuesday, March 03, 2015

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Okay, blogosphere, I know that I am over 2 weeks late on this but, 1. my body gave out after this show. Literally, I was sick as a dog come Monday and am still recovering now, and 2. maybe I still can't get over it. That I actually got to attend the Kate Spade show. To not just obsessively check the #behindthecurtain hashtag on Instagram like a nutcase all day for sneak peeks until the lookbook got online. But actually go and see it in person. 
If you've followed my blog for long, or know me in person, you know how obsessed I am with the Kate Spade brand. I've been writing about them since I started this blog, and they very well may have been one of the impetuses behind me starting CE&TH at all. I remember stumbling upon them way back when, perusing their quirky website and amazing clothes and accessories and thinking, 'this quick, curious, playful and strong girl is totally me.'
So when I found at that I would be working-- ney-- that I would be backstage and at the presentation for the A/W 2015 show, I literally walked over to my work partner and almost started crying.
Dear every single fan girl that I made fun of/didn't understand why they were bawling over seeing the Backstreet Boys/N*SYNC/any celebrity in person, I totally freaking get it now. 

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Pretty MAC makeup notes
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Deborah Lloyd getting her makeup touched up. I smiled at her a trillion times but didn't have the nerve to say anything. She is adorable.
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Lots of red plaid at this show! I may or may not had insider knowledge that influenced my attire at the show. 
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My favorite look of the show. That jacket <3 & yes, that fluffy owl is a bag!
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Those shoes. Right. Now. 
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And here's me! Cat eye glasses & all.
The presentation was amazing. The models were propped up around the room in a semi-circle that went from candy pink to bright red plaid to muted beiges and grays. A piano man (literally) was positioned in the corner, playing away all of the melodies you know by heart but never remember the names of, while waiters in full tuxedos offered the models bright colored candy and drinks in fancy glasses. Our waiters intermittently offered miniature h'or dourves and cookies, or sparkling waters with slices of lime, or bubbly; the faint sound of clicking plates and conversation lulled in the background, just out of earshot. It was the fanciest and most fabulous faux dinner party I'd ever been to.

But one thing, dear readers, that I did experience-- front row and center-- was a little bit of the magic get chipped away from this world that all of us fashion bloggers aspire to be a part of. You know, the one where you get to go Fashion Week and take fancy pictures of yourself looking fabulous, get to see the collections first. This exclusive lifestyle that we're all on the outside of.

The second I walked into the presentation I wanted to devour everything. I immediately took my camera from my bag, threw my belongings in a corner with a bunch of photographers' and wandered around, eyes sparkling, not knowing what to look at (or photograph) first. I first wandered about in awe, dodging the monstrous cameras and flashes of just about everyone there and just looked around in delight. And then I fangirled as I looked around the room and realized that Damsel in Dior had just passed me, Girl Meets Glam was talking to a ton of people that looked insanely familiar, and holy crap, this girl I follow on Instagram was to my right.
And then I noticed something that kind of broke my heart a little bit: no one was looking at the clothes. I mean, they did, for an instant: they'd go up, take a picture of a look or accessory with their phone, what looked like take a few minutes to write a caption and post it, and then head toward the middle of the room, make their own talk circle and chat with other bloggers (who has just done the exact same thing) about the others shows that they were going to that day or week. To say the least, I was flabberghasted. But most of all, it struck me as just so... odd.

And I get it, when you're blogging full time, it's a job more than it is play. But mind you, I was there for work, too-- but I got my shot and then walked around the room about 15 more times, stuffed my face with miniature cookies, fangirled behind my camera, and made my work partner take that shameless picture of me in front of the models because holy crap, I'M AT THE KATE SPADE PRESENTATION. I'm attending a show that people dream of attending. That I have dreamt of attending for years.
And maybe it's because I'm still that dreamer, who was still in total awe that it was even happening. Maybe it's because I'm not an established blogger that has been doing this kind of stuff year after year, season after season. But if that's what it means to be a fashion blogger, then that clearly isn't for me. The second a job that used to be fun becomes painstaking, whatever, I guess I'll go to this Fashion Week show because it's on the way kind of work, then, well, what fun is that?

So to all of you fashion bloggers who hastily checked your designer's favorite hashtag during Fashion Week or blogged about the amazing clothes you saw on the runway that you can't wait to oggle over in Fall (and not even necessarily be able to buy!)-- or who still dream of one day making it to those shows, let the girl who somehow ended up on the inside tell you the capital-T truth: you have already arrived. 

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