Last night's attempt at the Marc Jacobs mainline show fell flat on its face. It went something like this.
Me: "Hi..."
Them: "No."
But today at Marc by Marc Jacobs things went a little more smoothly. I ran into model Johanes Linder outside.
We'd never met before, but funnily enough he recognised me from an interview I did back in January for French TV. Turns out it made its way onto German television too.
So Johanes and I were chatting about New York, the interview and fashion week, when I asked if he had a spare backstage pass.
"Don't worry about that," he said, "come with me."
We walked up the stairs and past security to the check in desk.
"Hi can I get a backstage pass for my brother?" I choked back a cough, all the while attempting to look as blonde-haired and blue-eyed as possible.
The lady looked at him, looked at me, frowned, looked at me, looked at him, then radioed for support.
"We have a situation here."
A small guy with glasses was on the scene in seconds. Johanes spoke again.
"My brother needs a backstage pass." The guy laughed.
"You two aren't brothers. But it's fine, he can come in."
I thanked him and walked in. Then, turning, I put on my best German accent.
"I vass adopted. But vee don't like to talking about it."
In hair and makeup, pandemonium ruled. Star hairdresser Guido was in charge and volume was the order of the day.
The boys all had stylists working on volumising, and the girls sat back as literally cans and cans of mousse were sprayed into their dos.
Marc Jacobs sat by himself, working on his phone in a quiet corner. I asked if he minded if I took a photo. He looked up, said no, then looked back down. I paused.
He looked up again.
"No, I don't mind."
Gotta love the English language and all its idiosyncracies. I snapped one then scurried away.
The venue was the New York City armoury. As in the place where arms are kept should drama go down in New York City. Tanks, Hummers and Jeeps lined the pavement outside and the odd soldier (unarmed) roamed the sidewalk.
Contrary to popular opinion, the models were feasting backstage (even the girls).
The food table was well stocked with quesadillas, wraps, apples and brownies. They never seem to have bread backstage though, only tortillas. We wouldn't want anybody committing carbocide now, would we?
Once dressed, the models (including Cole Mohr, Yuri Pleskun, Mark Cox, William Eustace, Aiden Andrews, Karlie Kloss, Abbey Lee and Siri Tollerod) stood in a line stretching from one side of the room to the other (it was a big room).
"Regina, Brian, Sheena, Martine, Aiden, Juliana, Corey!" the producer screamed, checking and rechecking the running order.
All the girls had their hair up in hot pink or electric blue bows, like colourful 50s housewives. All the clothes were colourful too.
Oranges, blues, reds, pinks and greens. Not just colourful, but patterned. Checks, stripes, polka dots, hearts and plaids.
The patterns looked especially good on the checked suits for the boys and cigarette pants for the girls.
And I'd imagine the multicoloured heart printed bags will be an instant sellout.
The show was about to start so I went out front and roamed the front row, looking for celebrities.
I didn't find any, but I did spot fellow blogger Bryan Boy sitting in prime position.
I made my way to a third row seat and sat down, waiting for the show to begin.
Within ten seconds a woman came up to me and showed me her invitation. I was in her chair.
I got up, moved to the side of the photographer's podium and watched the show from there.
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