Sore, tired, not able to react to the alarm, and sleeping in. Wake up with 20 minutes to leave for work. Stayed up too late talking out our money problem the night before mixed with the fact that it had gotten much colder had kept all the restful dreams away. Feels like dozing off 30 times in a row. But in the middle I fighting the start of the day, the day texted me again, not out of bed yet.
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This time a work issue, outside of the fashion show. But directly effecting the money issues, from the stolen rent case, and this bothered me. Because it was laced with subtexts that read of- or I read them to be- disrespect, and selfishness or naïvety ? Misunderstandings. Unhappiness, annoyed-ness, now filled more than one employee of the store, with two more bigger events hours away.
This is now everyone's problem, who works there as far as weekly shifts. Sigh, can't we all be on the same team? Work where your leader sees you as helping the most? Not everyone sees life the same way, try to focus. Fashion media mixer tonight, what to wear?
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The intern came in to work a little after myself. Phone call from the designer, making plans. Prepare two pieces to be shown and be ready to mix and mingle with press, cameras, and the like minded fashionistas that'll be throughout the room.
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The designer steps into the store, she goes over the plan several times. Who's driving who, where is the bar. Her and I agree to meet the intern there. Walked to the designer'a car, put the clothes in the trunk. See the other manager and catch up receiving momentos of good wishes.
We drive. Pick up my boyfriend and head out, about a 45 minute drive north, plus 15 minutes of traffic and still perfectly on time, we park and settle in. Headache sets in as the designer begs for attention there isn't energy left to give. Boyfriend orders a gin and tonic, and a glass of wine. Cheers. Sip. Chardonnay. Better.
Smile. Finally, a drink at the event while working. Only we are actually early. The original email from the head honcho said be there at 6. But surrounded by models and only having one out of the two we were expecting, everyone waits. Models get made up, the host shows up.
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This man is wonderful, he infused both earlier days with some much needed casual smiles and laughing as much as instruction and speeches. He is head of fashion- basically- at the Art Institute. I gave him our card and flyer, he gave me his card. I loved him, and if he liked anything, he'd say with some southern eccentricity, "Oh, I Loove it," Usually punctuated with, "Honey!"
He had earned the title of Doctor, and now proudly wore that doctorate all up in his signature bow tie. Best dressed man in Atlanta. Honey.
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The showcase of our two pre-view pieces was about to start. Let the frazzled intern find my glass of Chardonnay, with two sips in the bottom.
Order myself another.
Our model asks around for extra models but none are found. The music blares as the Doctor announces our lines one by one, and as the first girl gets back, beg her to jump into the extra dress. She flings her zipper down and the next two models assist in dressing her. Send her out in time. She saved the first model from having to change and go out of sequence. Saved our preview show.
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Pictures snapped on phones all night until in the car driving away. Proof of the party. The drive home was a buzz of conversation, needing to vamp up the line before the next nights show. Fears of being shown up in the designer, not held by all. A calm confidence rose over the rest of us. Maybe we wanted to hear her that engulfed in this fashion week. Maybe we were too close to turn, too fast to stop and too excited to sleep. Because upon arriving home, again bedtime was around 3 am. The finale in the morning. Hair for the finale, early. Before being able to rest the mind reviews the next day, the plan. The extra things that will happen and all the bumps in the road to look out for.
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Before crashing, post a couple photos. Send a couple thanks.
Set alarm for 10 am.
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Really felt the frantic, tired energy of this post. I was there.
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