The row is empty; it is still early. A guy with a headset, official badges and company-issue t-shirt sits alone in seat 13. I am seat 12. He has tattoo sleeves. Awkwardly, I sit down and start digging through my bag for my pen, pad and camera. The usual settling in. The tent is too hot and I want to take my coat off. Suddenly I feel claustrophobic, as though I have no space to move about in order to do this. I will disturb the natural order of things, or at least the order of two people sitting side by side. So I sit there, burning up, trying to go about my business. But I can’t check my phone or look at my notebook, without feeling like someone is looking over my shoulder as I do it. Finally I give up on my own private activities. “So, you’re holding down the fort?” I ask him. Clearly this is not really his seat, he is wearing a headset, after all. “Yes, this seat is for Fern Mallis.” Fern Mallis is the vice president of IMG Fashion. I formally met her in Mumbai over a year ago at another fashion week and I will never forget how she found an incredible black and white striped rug at Fab India but decided it wouldn’t fit in her suitcase. So she let me buy it instead, even though I could tell she was very disappointed.
We are silent again and I start scanning the room for flashbulbs. Nothing yet, except for some shaggy haired guy being interviewed. I don’t know who is, which means he’s probably on television. “So have you been enjoying the shows?” the guy asks me. I look at him and hesitate. I can tell he’s quite thrilled to be working in the tents, holding Fern’s seat, watching all the biggest shows. I don’t want to be a killjoy by saying how crappy I think everything has been and how tired I am. I don’t feign enthusiasm, exactly, but I stop myself from complaining and give a canned response. Continue reading ‘it’s showtime, folks! (bye bye life)’
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