Thursday, March 19, 2009

Last week was Paris FASHION WEEK!!!

Upon learning that the Givenchy show was to be held right across the street from me, in a covered-market space, Brittany, Michelle and I decided to gather outside the show to watch the invitees enter, despite the fact that we didn't "technically" have an invitation . . . The second I walked onto the street, I knew I was in for a treat, as my quaint little neighborhood was transformed into a glamorous red-carpet world. Blockades of shiny black SUVS, fashion editors and socialites abounded. I even saw celebrity stylist Rachel Zoe walk into my favorite little neighborhood café, Café Crème! We stood in awe, watching designers, editors, and socialites donning the most amazing clothes I've ever seen in person. They ranged from the incredibly chic to outrageous (girl wearing masquerade mask, socialite with Michael-Jackson-esque Thriller jacket). Among the invitees were singer Kanye West and girlfriend, and the Princess of Thailand. Just as the trail of celebrities ended and the fashion show began to start (late), we ran around to the side, thinking maybe we could catch a glimpse of the show through the windows. And what did we see, but that the ENTIRE side of the building was open, closed off only by wrought-iron gates. We could see the entire show from the side, and it was amazing. Dark lights and gloomy music, a spectacle of gothic chic. When it was over, we resumed our places in front of the entrance to catch the important people walking out, and to network. As a film industry professional, Brittany was able to legitimately network with the Extra cameraman. All the celeb-stalking made us hungry and we went across the street for dinner, just in time to catch some of the models, eating their coffee and cigarettes. We made sure to get dessert to make them jealous.

The next day, I was also able to catch the Stella McCartney show in the same covered marketplace across from my apartment! Lo and behold, who did I see but Paul McCartney, proud father to Stella, fashion-designer daughter! 

Finally, I was able to LEGITIMATELY attend a fashion show, thanks to my French roommate, Emilie, who is the assistant to the creative director of Chloe, Hannah McGibbon. Chloe is one of my absolute FAVORITE designers, but is obviously out of my price range  . . . USUALLY. It just so happens that the gods were smiling down upon me! Emilie was nice enough to let me share in some of her glamorous fashion perks . . . A couple of weeks earlier, I had returned home from class to have this conversation with her . . . 

Emilie: "Est-ce que tu veux venir aux défilés Chloe avec moi?" ("Do you want to come to the Chloe fashion show with me?") (Emilie has the enviable job duty of deciding who will attend the Chloe fashion show, and doling out invitations . . . )

Me: "Quoi?" ("What? Come again?")

Emilie: "Est-ce que tu veux venir aux défilés Chloe avec moi?"

Me: "Quoi?"

 . . . and again like this, at least one more time. I understood her, but only technically . . . on a psychological level, the reality that I, Miss Suzanne Nobody, was going to get to attend a Parisian fashion show - by one of my favorite designers, no less - had taken a while to register. I was thrilled and beyond thankful. So on what would have been an otherwise average Wednesday afternoon, instead of heading home from class like the other students, I was on my way to the Tuileries gardens  to meet up with Emilie outside the entrance and receive my ticket to Chicdom . . . 

 . . . But on my way to the tents, I was stopped and interrogated by an unknown European (fashion?) television station (??). For almost 10 minutes, I was made to answer a deluge of fashion-related questions IN FRENCH, such as:

"Why did you choose that outfit to wear to the show?" (Answer: I chose leggings and a fur vest with a mini-dress and black booties because in my head it was what a fashionista wears to a fashion show . . . believe me, I had pored over my outfit choice for at least 4 hours beforehand . . . )

"Why are you wearing a mini-dress?" Is it "in" this season?" (Answer: I chose to wear a mini-dress not because it is "trendy," but because in my mind it is timeless and embodies the type of 60s-mod style that is the apex of chic, and goes well with my petite stature . . . but how do you say that all in French?)

One can only speak philosophically, in French, about the merits of pleather leggings and a minidress for so long before she runs out of things to say. I had to run, and quickly, for Emilie was to meet me at the entrance 30 minutes before the show started to give me my ticket in. Apparently, the invitation that I had gotten earlier is not enough to get in to the fashion show right away, if your invitation says "standing room." Thus, Emilie summoned me over and hustled me through the entrance by slipping me a coveted white wristband, showing security that I was VIP enough to avoid standing in the line with the other standing-room invitations. And thankfully, I might add . . . the tent was relatively small, and because I was the first one into my section, I had an amazing view for the show (and for the other "show": the designers, socialites, and fashion editors frequenting the front rows). Afterwards, guests were summoned out into an adjoining tent and treated to champagne and hors d'oeuvres!

The next perk took place a week after the fashion show: the unimaginable 70-80% off CHLOE SALE!! Amanda Morris had come to visit me in Paris that week, and since Emilie had given me an extra invitation, Amanda was my invitee. Imagine the scene: hundreds of fashionistas gather together in an (undisclosed) location in Paris, and wait in line for hours for the chance to enter Mecca: the latest Chloe designs (latest as in, at most, 1 or 2 seasons ago), in an unmarked warehouse, affordable to the average consumer. Needless to say, the security guards who were checking invitations outside the sale seemed annoyed and uncomprehending, having to deal with overzealous, fashion-obsessed French women. As Amanda observed when we were standing in line outside the entrance, they probably understood the ramifications of an 80%-off Chloe sale about as well as French fashion editors understand the Manchester United-Leeds European football rivalry. We finally made it in, and, after leaving our bags at the check-in, were primed like race-horses at the starting gate. We had a limited amount of time to fill our oversized plastic bags with a sampling of Chloe merchandise and make a mad dash to a private corner to contemplate our potential purchases. This meant getting away from the scrambling hordes of French women clawing for a Spring '08 minidress or Totally Turnlock bag. I have to say, you don't know who your true friends are until they see you at your most obsessive and psychologically unstable and still want to be friends with you - as Amanda did with me. She patiently waited as I tried on dress after dress, in an effort to find the penultimate Parisian "souvenir."