Fashion Week is almost in the air and with everyone prepping and looking forward to the new collections, some of us bloggers, myself included, are wondering what it feels like to get an invitation to any show. I mean for the designers themselves to invite you, me, everyday ordinary people who love luxurious designs.
Granted, the most coveted seat ever are the front row seats reserved for the likes of Anna Wintour, The It-celebrity of the moment or those Russian street style mavens. I cannot help but wonder what it would feel like for a bloggers of African descent to seat at the front, shoot, or even the back of any show.
Only imagine the diversity, the idea of fashion being for everyone, including, yes, us Africans with buying power. But until that day arrives, we can visualize from the insights of others, like an editor, Katherine Bernard at Vogue.com who wrote a post on what it’s like to seat at the back of these shows. Although the tone of the writer seems pithy for people at the back, I can’t help but appreciate her opinion on the fact that front row seats may be overrated and that back row seats are where the action truly happens. So here is her take on what back row seat at fashion week really look like. They are about real people that I feel I would be able to relate to if I ever make it to these shows. They also made me smile and I think you would find them interesting:
1. I admit, it’s not the most practical way to view clothes. But since all of the collections instantly pop up online after the lights go back on, I’m never worried about the fact that I don’t see what shoes or even which bottoms are worn with each look. I’m there to gauge the reactions, listen to the comments, and feel the energy in the room.
2. When you’re in the front row, you are part of the show itself. Photographers swarm and blind celebrities and socialites with flashes the moment they take their seats. I always imagine them blinking away the bulbs for the next ten minutes, the heads and legs of models superimposed on the splotches lingering on their retinas. Conversations in the front row are constantly interrupted: “Can I get a picture of the two of you? Now just her?” In the back, there’s talk. And there’s no risk of anyone important overhearing, so it’s honest. The closer you are to the front, the more you overhear discussion about the weather.
3. The back is also more fun, because it’s where the superfans are seated. By this I mean the young kids who maybe are friends with the designer, or who intern or scored a ticket—somehow. Maybe they snuck in, but they’re always wearing the band’s T-shirt to the concert: If you want a reminder of last season’s complete looks, they’re sitting right there in the back row, reinvented with the kind of enthusiasm you miss seeing on street style blogs. Sometimes, you’ll hear a full-hearted sigh when the clothes go down the runway. These are the people who will covet the collection, and they are the best barometer for whether it’s good.
4. When the show ends, the front row stands and power-strides to the door. In the back, there is no hope of reaching the exit in a timely manner, so you might as well drift. It gives me a chance to absorb what I’ve just seen, to eavesdrop on conversations about it, and to reconnect with the well-seated people I had to leave when we got our row assignments (“I’m up here! Let’s talk after!”). It’s rare to be in a room with so many editors and writers, all of whom view fashion differently. Seeing what they wear, or watching when they get lachrymose as a particularly powerful collection walks by (in the back, the runway lights don’t reach you, allowing tears to well anonymously), is the real show of Fashion Week.