Africa Fashion Week, day 2, Thursday.

Although fashion week was supposed to enter the blog nightly after each event, that simply did not happen. My plan was to use the time before bed to put photos online, and blog about the night, thinking this would preserve details and capture moods, but instead this being my first fashion week, it's taught me the hard way why they call three nights and one rehearsal a 'week'. Thus my retelling will probably give you a more squished together story. 

I had been in theater so much of my life that each "show" I do no matter what scale or slant, I get the "theatre" feeling. A week before the finale show (which featured our store's designs) I was preparing in my usual "hell week" mode. It's where you kick everything up a gear, more coffee and the list of things to do each day need to get done and not pushed off, for each day things are being  communicated, planned and changed and this only increases the more you procrastinate.

So I had us ready as you can read in the rehearsal story from earlier. But after that day, more and more like a snowball, came rolling at me picking up more details every morning, noon and night. 

Here is what happened after arriving home after the rehearsal at the museum. 

....

Posting...and posted, thumbs pecking away, like feeding chickens, at the keys on touch screen. Picture after picture needed to be cropped, saved and shared. Tagged, posted, sent. And occasionally: moved, rearranged, emailed, pinned, and all the regular extra things these phones do. 

This would last until 3am. Bedtime. 

...

The next morning, the same phone which was staying awake last night with a bright screen glowing in a dim room, now buzzed in the sunshine. This wasn't the alarm, it was a string of texts, asking where who and what, and "can you forward this," and "message me asap".

This was because later we would be going to a small student fashion show, being seen, and watching our designer judge the competition over an externship at a cut& sew company. Ugh. Not even out of bed. 

...

Boyfriend opens the front door, and a letter falls to the floor that was stuck in. It's from the leasing manager, about our stolen $600 rent. And how the residents are still required to make up the rent that was stolen. Know we don't have it. Not even dressed yet. 

...

Phone rings, unfortunate timing- about to put on pants. It's the designer, asking about details for tonight, and all week.

...

"I emailed you the details..." I started. 

"Oh, I know, I read it, yeah." She stated.

"So, did it all make sense then?"

"Yeah it did. Now, where is this at again?" She asked but this means she didn't read it. 

"I attached a map in the email but its real close to my house, I can walk. But you need to be there early they said." 

"Well, what time are we supposed to be there?" She sounded suddenly panicked like a lost child. I held her hand, 

" I think they said at five, but the fashion show starts at 8, so ill be there at 8, ok?"

"Okay," she said, "I'll just go print off the email." 

...

Didn't need to be at work, but needed to see things to know how to see some extra finishing touches and hair clips to match. So, at work on my day off, for Fashion, remind myself. Meet the intern soon. Hurry, remind myself. 

...

A powder blue mustang convertible pulled up. The 18 year old intern, driving barefoot waves from behind the wheel. 

She is a little late, but the venue was on the same street. 

We found parking in the grass and quickly she swapped shoes, a la Cinderella, and we ran to the ball. 

Inside they send us down the runway which was a hallway, opening into a room surrounded by chairs, people, we hug a wall as the music starts. Oops, the model was sorta waiting to start, oh well. 

They begin to come down the hall, and collection after collection caught rounds of applause interrupted by flashes of cameras, and the stretching of arms with camera phones. No one really spoke, except for one or two nearly silent likes and 'ooh's. The fabulous host announced each designer, he made the DJ play music for us to dance to, he escorted judges and brought them back with a decision. A unanimous result, where the first designer won. Her line a stark foil to all the other colorful, fall and amber tones. Her work was detailed, complex, striking black and white sharp and sculpted. All agreed she deserved it, and mixed and mingled for a few minutes before the mustang departed the ball.

...

At home about 9:30pm. My boyfriend was just leaving for practice. Spent the entire time he was away just posting and sending photos again. And again. Before long he was coming home and it was 2am. Talking between lovers can last hours late at night. We hit the bed around  4am, thinking about work the next morning. And then the media mixer that night.

...