An Invitation
All it takes is ONE invitation. However you get that, get it. It doesn’t matter what horrible third tier brand it is. Oh, UGG and Kenneth Cole have teamed up to bring back bad taste? I’LL BE THERE AT 8am SHARP. Once there, no doubt you will run into someone you "know" from the Internet and I bet you your brand new fedora that they have an invite to a presentation that you actually kind of want to go to. All bloggers are more comfortable in packs and love to power flex, so “of course" they "can get you in.” They know the PR rep.
Comfy Shoes
I don’t care who you are—you could be the Editor-in-Chief of Influencer International—you WILL be standing around during NYFW. A lot. I can’t emphasize this enough. Plus, when you do get a chance to sit, you're either sitting on some piece of shit bench thing or, like, a weird triangle because it looks cool. But, more than likely, you’re just standing because you’re a piece of shit and you don’t get seated at shows and everything you get invited to is a fucking presentation, which sucks, but at least you get a struggle sponsored cocktail. You will also need to stand outside the shows because, let’s be honest, you didn’t pay all this hard earned internship scrilla, aka told mom and dad that books were really expensive this semester, for sick gear NOT to get street styled. So, you stand and you wait. And then you wait some more. After a while, the photographers will run out of cool people and will probably take a photo of you to white balance their shit or something.
A Cell Phone
A cell phone will get you out of the most awkward situations. Trust. A phone is almost like that transporter joint in Star Trek. As long as you’re in range, you can pretty much be magically teleported anywhere you want. Look at Jannuzzi here. A struggle star on Tumblr saw him walk into the show. They strike up a conversation and for a second he’s listening. Wait, Jannuzzi is listening to this bigbluntsbiggerbutts dot tumblr dot com dude? But then, a beep here, a ringtone there and BOOM, JOHN JANNUZZI DOESN’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOUR THOUGHTS ON ANY COLLECTION EVER SHOWN IN THE HISTORY OF EVER. If you find yourself in a similar situation as Mr. Jannuzzi, the cell phone is your Iverson crossover. No one can guard that shit. Check the NHL box scores from last night, even though lolz hockey, because you're tapped out of non-sequitors while you wait for a cab. Just fucking refresh Twitter fourteen thousand times. You don’t want to miss the latest hilarious dispatches from Sinbad and The Rock. Anything is better than pretending people from the Internet have interesting lives in real life. Most importantly, your phone better be an iPhone because, if not, gross.
Appointments
Fuck general invites. Fuck standing room only. Email some "showrooms" and "PR Companies" aka dudes too poor to open stores or start labels. Set up some appointments to get "hands on" with the collections and snap a few exclusive shots. That way, when you’re standing around outside in the cold with a bunch of people who are way shorter in real life than you expected, you can pull an Illuminati move and be the first one to bounce. “Sorry, I've got an appointment at a showroom.” FLEX FLEX FLEX. I can’t be bothered milling about, commiserating about the weather and slow walking tourists, because I’m busy and connected and part of the capital "I" Industry.
Drugs
There will be a point where you are at a really random after party. It’ll be late and the bar is shutting down and the only people left are the two best friend PR chicks dancing to "trap music" because they "love trap music." It’s Fashion Week, and everyone is doing drugs. You want to be the guy who has a joint to smoke with that cougarish Creative Director. Or, kick it with the crew that never takes photos of the clothing, never writes about it and never really does anything, but show up turnt up before they disappear for another 6 months. Those dudes go on inspiration trips and start companies that get bought out by Japanese parent corporations and sometimes lamer things like American Apparel or Urban Outfitters. But whatever, they still make bank, so bless, bless. Win them over with banned substances. You’ll be the one other cool guy they met at NYFW. Worst case scenario, you’ll be that creepy guy at NYFW offering everyone "hella sick fire." Either way, they'll remember you. It’s all about making a memorable impression.
A Notebook
Notebooks are romantic and cool and elitist—all qualities every good Fashion Week attendant embodies. Get you a Molskine and get you some respect because real G's write in silence like Matthew Schneier. Take this up and coming editor pictured above. I got a copy of her notes. Here they are, unedited:
-Ugh, another "presentation". What happened to seeing the clothes move down the runway. Where’s the sense of drama and movement? This is like a gauche mime convention or something.
-If one more adult asks me, “How’s school going?” I’m gonna punch them in their goddamn smug faces. I don’t go around asking adults, “Hey, how’s being old as fuck going?" Ask me about my thoughts on your mediocre magazine, I’ve got plenty of notes for you.
-How’d all these bloggers get in here? I mean, really? I’m the style and fashion editor at large for Highlights. I don’t give a fuck about your blogspot ramblings on how every man needs a pair of leather boots in his life.
-Sidenote: capsule collection with Lisa Frank needs to happen. Get on this asap.
-What's with all these people clicking away on their smart phones. What happened to hand written notes? What happened to the romance of being a writer?
-While the presentation offers some great classic silhouettes, it’s all starting to become a tad redundant—some touches of Bastian, a flirtation with Watanabe, a heavy dose of Ralph LaurenI mean. These young designers shouldn’t be afraid to branch out into some more experimental territory. We all know the designer of today is standing on the shoulders of giants, no need to make your influences so transparent.
-Where’s that intern with my fucking Capri Sun?
Cigs
Don’t worry, you don’t actually have to smoke, but at last dangle one from your lips because it may be the best time for you to actually hang out with, you know, fashion people. Go ahead and lounge behind the shows, lean against concrete walls. Smoking and bracing yourself against the cold are two go-to looks to get that menswear tag. The thing about smoking is, it’s emblematic of Fashion Week itself. Everyone smokes, but nobody has cigarettes. Everybody belongs, but nobody has reserved seats. Be the magnanimous dude with extra smokes because you don't usually pay $12 dollars for a pack on a regular basis. People will at least talk to you for the time it takes them to bum your lighter.
Uber
FUCK SOME PEASANT TAXIS. What is this, Des Moines? Everyone who is anyone uses Uber, you prehistoric asshole. Then they all complain about how long it takes. Also, this is an Instagram selfie opportunity waiting to happen. Just caption that bish “Waiting on Uber." Plus, you just straight humble bragged all over everyone’s faces with the fact that you’re riding in either a Lincoln Town Car or Escalade like a super douche.
An Inflated Sense Of Self-Importance
Yo, fuck being excited about Fashion Week, let along anything. THIS SHIT IS EXHAUSTING. It’s work, not fun. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t getting paid money and given free clothing and alcohol. EW, THEY GAVE US FREE COCONUT WATER. I WAS INTO COCONUT WATER WHEN I WAS INTO CROSS FIT. NOW I JUST THROW UP. Never been to Lincoln Center before? WHO CARES? IT’S JUST ANOTHER BUILDING IN JUST ANOTHER CITY. Only New Yorkers can be excited and exuberant about New York City and it being the best city in the world. And that’s only on Twitter and at a Kanye West concert. Never in person.
An Internship
Internships are probably the best way to get full access to NYFW without having to offer anything of importance to the work. Just don’t intern with anyone actually showing because all you will be doing is getting coffee and fucking up and washing things and fucking up and delivering packages and fucking up. So, try and intern at a magazine or, say, a website that does daily posts and features. At first all you will do is nothing and then you will be expected to do everything. But in the meantime your boss will be super cool and be like “Yo, I’m heading to a show. You wanna roll with and check it out? Maybe you'll get a post out of it.” Suddenly you’re taking in shows and getting treated like a real person with real feelings. PSYCH! YEAH FUCKING RIGHT. YOU’RE AN INTERN, DUMBASS. WE NEED FIVE POSTS ON BUTTON DOWN SHIRTS, LIKE, YESTERDAY. MAKE THAT SHIT FUNNY AND HAVE IT DONE BY THE TIME I GET BACK FROM THE SHOW, YA BISH.
Location:Four-Pins