If I have any loyal readers, then you might remember a few months back when I wrote about my work at fashion week for the Fall/Winter shows. Well what do you know, classes are out and I have relocated from the my mountain home in Asheville, NC to a chic little place in Chelsea – Manhattan, NY. Today was my first day at the office and just like fashion, honey this place is always changing.
I walked in prepared to claim my place as the sassy chocolate queen in the office. All black- because it’s chic, a bowler hat for irony, white nails (3 on one hand, 2 on the other) a few diamonds for glamour and my Prada bag. Inside? My iPad (Louis Vuitton cover), my flight bag collection wallet, also from Monsieur Vuitton, 4 credit cards, license, cash, burt’s bees, water bottle, umbrella, pens, iPhone, Droid, notebook and my pocket sized calendar. The offices are only 11 blocks from my place so of course I walk.
As I’m grabbing coffee at Starbucks, I run into one of my supervisors. We hug say hi and plan to catch up inside. I have a few minutes before I need to be upstairs so I sit outside at a little table, and people watch. Spotted: a tan woman with long brown hair in an impeccably perfect, messy top knot, Hermes collier de chien bracelet, Celine luggage tote, denim shirt, black skinnies, gladiator heels with a metal gold heel and a cigarette… tres chic. I check the time, 8: 45. I grab my bag and my venty skinny soy latte and head for the high floors of couture.
The first thing I noticed was that we had a new receptionist. “interesting” I thought. None the less I say hi and kept walking. I’m greeted warmly by everyone in the offices which puts a smile on my face. I sit my bag down and immediately get to work. We’re in the middle of resort season, so of course there is slight anxiousness around the office, but more importantly, tidiness is not at its best. I spent most of the day trying to make everyone else’s job easier.
With huge companies such as this, you’ve got to respect the small details… like order. I organized the backroom where we have the shoes; spring 13, transition 13, and fall 13, all neatly stacked and facing the front so when I need to replace shoes from Vogue, I CAN! When I finish, I go to the show room, the past 5 seasons staring me in the face, smirking sartorically. I think to myself “I ain’t got time” and go back to regular work: logging in pulls and returns, using “Snag it” to capture all relevant press and other daily routines of a PR Queen.
Later, my hot supervisor says “this place really does need to be organized”, “I’LL DO IT” I say, eager to please. We exchange witty remarks about the specifics and then I start. Each season by category: tops, bottoms, dresses, coats and then color, but not rainbow, light to dark. I want the eye to travel. What seemed like hours later I looked around pleased and headed back into my office to do more basic work.
Throughout the day I overhear chatter and make a mental note to ask questions later. Well, later certainly came faster than I thought. Apparently since I last walked through the glass doors of dreamland, the PR Queen Top Bitch has left – no tea, no shade, and so has one of the other lower level executives. I’m not really surprised she left though, she had a sour look on her face every time I saw her. I always thought it was just all the skinny models walking around, making everyone feel inferior… guess not.
Last but not least, I have a new team of co-workers to work with. I won’t name names but there are 4 of them. 3 are from the same area and one is from the south. Obviously, she’s my favorite because we Southern belles stick together. Out of the other three, there’s the bitchy girl, who’s been working the inner circuits of Time Square’s big buildings for a few seasons, owns a designer bag and a pencil skirt and requires everyone to listen to her bitch about her Tindr man problems. There’s her lacky, a gorgeous girl who obviously didn’t have a loving mother because she is under this chick like she’s spitting gold. Last but not least there’s the gay friend. Not my favorite of gays I’ve met in the city, a little catty and not well dressed. But what can you do?
All in all my first day back working was nothing out of the ordinary. The women are skinny, the clothes are expensive, we’re all hungry and bitchy, and the scenery is constantly changing. Stay tuned for more, and welcome to the fashion industry.