It’s heeere!!! New York Fashion Week starts today, the air is crisp, people are tan and rested, and, just in case you’re not prepared, Leandra was clever enough to do a play-by-play tutorial to help you get your game face on—sporting, obvi, the chic-est jersey in the history of actual sportswear. I began my preparations with a trip to Whole Foods, stocking up on enough coconut water and Cliff bars to make the checkout lady think there was a hurricane coming.
As loyal ITG readers know, my fashion week focus is pretty much centered around the backstage action: nothing brings me more joy than hearing Guido explain the look at Alex Wang, with his thick English accent and Cheshire Cat grin, or spotting that new model who opens a major show and seeing her shape-shift and take off by the time Paris hits. But then, it’s not just me anymore. Nick and Alessandra will be pounding the pavement with me—after all, three sets of eyeballs are better than one.
Speaking of eyeballs, mine will be shielded by one of two pairs of Céline sunglasses: one blue plastic, one broken aviator with the cool white part missing—both of which I cannot believe I haven’t lost yet (after one and two years, respectively). In honor of my newfound eyewear responsibility, I’ll be recycling them rather than buying a new pair.
I’m a big fan of sticking with what works for this week—like my Rag & Bone skinnies in black, which I wear every day, basically. I’ll be cuffing them and pairing with my new shoe love: Tabitha Simmons’ pointy pumps, which I’ve been test-driving for the past few days to see if the comfort-level is up to snuff. (They passed.) The other big purchase is a floral satin “tee shirt” with knit sleeves from Derek Lam that I’ve had my eye on for months, but when I’m not wearing that, I’ll likely be sporting an actual t-shirt of the white, men’s v-neck Hanes variety, or my trusty white button-down from Saturdays Surf, both lifted from Nick. He knows about those two “loans”…but what he doesn’t know is that I’m sitting here wearing his Mishka “Engineered to Destroy Deathadders” screenprint sweatshirt, because if there are two things he’s good at finding, it’s wacky printed pants and spot-on Balenciaga-esque, 80s-style pullovers.
In bags: thinking of going with my several-years-old Proenza PS1, plus a pouch or two—either a slim black leather Reed Krakoff or this new monogrammed Claire Vivier camel zipper number that’s got all the charm of Céline minus a few hundred bucks. And, more literally “in bags,” will be the beauty goods:
Tom Ford’s new deep-red gloss, Naiveté, to kick things up a notch.
Pocket Byredo in Accord Oud
Travel-sized Oribe Dry Texturizing Spray plus a few hair ties if that goes awry, because, good God, short hair is a big fat pain in the neck.
I will also never, ever leave home without:
The Canon 5D Mark III I splurged on this summer. A 5-year-old could shoot Vogue editorials on this thing. And my Lumix GX1, for when I’m feeling particularly lo-fi.
A fully charged Mophie—the most genius device—for when my iPhone dies at noon, though, if you really think about it, it’s just a little crazy that we have to buy an extra apparatus to make an iPhone last all day. Shouldn’t the battery just last longer in the first place? Is Mophie owned by Apple? I digress...
An unlined Moleskine notebook, customized with a #MarcTheDot sticker by Langley Fox Hemingway, and a mechanical pencil.
Smythson’s fancy-schmancy “fashion month” diary, a gift from Net-A-Porter, for when my Moleskine runs out (only a few pages left!).
My J. Colby Smith ear piercings/earrings.
And before I walk out the door, I may or may not:
Put on a strange aerosol Nivea deodorant from SoHo House Berlin, which sort of doubles as perfume…
…or, douse myself in Frédéric Malle’s milky hair perfume, Carnal Flower.
Call mom (I’m alive, I swear!).