The first time I went to see my first fashion show was in 2006.
My fellow photographer, Miguel Rosales was covering men’s fashion week in the summer of 2006.
I don’t know how I finagled myself into go with him to the shows but I guess, I just tagged along with him even though I didn’t have an invitation. Since, I didn’t have an invite, I was always anxious to go along with him because there’s no guarantee that I will get in and the embarrassment of getting rejected, well, it’s just humiliating in front of these judgmental fashionistas. I mean, I didn’t have any cool clothes . . . and since it’s summer, I was wearing a t-shirt, shorts and sandals. Not very fashionable. I think I was even sporting a vest that I got from a second hand shop at the Marais. How embarrassing!
Anyways, the first show that I went to that I can remember was Bernhard Willhelm.
In these things, getting in the venue was always nerve racking . . . first of all, you’re always running to get to the venue and when you get there thinking that you’re late and they wouldn’t let you in anymore . . . but then you arrive, there’s a huge crowd and the people that does the door with their clipboards, hand picking the people to get in first (it’s like a nightclub where you got to know people at the door). To some relief, we weren’t late at all but being amongst all these smoking fashion boys and girls, scanning ever inch of you . . . well, let’s just say, I just stared in the distance and aching just to get in. Usually, Miguel, since he’s a native to Paris, he knows a lot of people so he would mingle and have a little small talk, whilst me, I’m like the lump of coal that he had to carry around and my French isn’t up to par to chime in the conversation, so I literally just stood there just nodding and doing a half smile, but deep inside, I just want to get in so I can pee! hahaha
The shows never start on time and they have to wait for all the editors and buyers from the previous show to arrive.
Finally, they’re letting the general public in . . . at this point, the show is like 20 minutes late and we’re still outside waiting. All of a sudden a tsunami of people rush to get in. I think I just got caught in the melee and in an instant, I was in the foyer and walking up the stairs into the venue.
Miguel and I looked for an empty spot to sit down on the benches while everyone was just rushing to their seats and the people working the event yelling at everyone to sit down.
It was hot and the sun was beating down on that gymnasium. Of course, it’s the middle of summer and the French doesn’t believe in air conditioning. I mean, it was sweltering. I was fanning myself with anything that I can gather and then the music started blaring and the spotlights light up the path that the models are walking onto. When the first model started walking, there’s this calmness that happens . . . everyone’s quiet and we were busy trying to meticulous judge the clothes. As for me, I was mesmerized with the whole thing . . . the fact that I was sitting and watching the show in Paris of all places and I am amongst all these fashion people (whom some of them I recognized on TV), well, it was like I was having an out of body experience and still couldn’t believe that I was there.
Bernhard Willhelm in Paris, France
Bernhard Willhelm in Paris, France
With each outfit that came out, one model, two models at a time and sometimes an ensemble of them together and the garments that they were wearing, I couldn’t help to think, wow, now that’s fashion. I mean, some of them were a bit weird and the styling was really over the top, but in essence, that’s the point of fashion shows. It’s to be creative and to put your branding or aesthetic for the whole world to see. I may not like it but it’s the idea that I am very fascinated about.
Ten minutes later, the whole cast of models start walking out and the show was over.
Yes, it’s that quick! Some started rushing the exits even before the designer came out.
I don’t think they want to leave because the show was bad . . . for the most part, it’s because they have to rush to go to the next show.
Miguel and I sat there until the end and we mingled with people and talked a little about the collection.
I mean, it was an international crowd so for the most part, I was speaking English to everyone I’ve met.
I’d asked Miguel why are some people going back stage and he said, “oh, that’s only for VIP or editors or buyers!”
We headed outside and people are just hanging out and smoking cigarettes and asking each other what other shows they’re invited to.
I mean, I was still in cloud nine after watching the show and I was fully satisfied if this was my only one.
Then, Miguel pulled out some invitations and trying to see which one we can go next.
I think we did like 6 or 7 more shows together and some presentations (not a runway but a showroom).
We went to see Walter Van Bereindonck presentation which I introduced myself to him whilst he and his models were interacting with the crowd and drinking champagne.
Miguel Rosales and Elien at the Walter Van Beirendonck presentation in Paris France
Walter Van Bereindonck Presentation in Paris, France
It’s funny, going to the presentations, I thought it was way better because you can actually drink and eat some hors d’oeuvres and actually see the clothes up close and touch it.
I don’t want to recount all the shows I went to that season because it would be a freaking novel, but with each show that I got in, it got comfortable and that anxiety subsided.
Funny enough, one day during that week, Miguel said, “why don’t we take the bus!”
I’m like, “the bus?” (with a tone of irony in my voice)
During fashion week in Paris, the organizers of Paris Fashion Week dedicate a bus to take everyone to all the shows.
It’s like a personal carriage that people in fashion can ride so they don’t have to take public transport.
The only thing is that you’re stuck with all these people all day everyday and let’s just say, even with fashion people, gurl, have you heard of a deodorant! I mean, I understand that the schedule is grueling and the parties at night keep you up and don’t have time to shower but seriously, walking inside that bus, the stench is just not fashion like.
This predates iPhones so literally, you have no choice but to interact with people and stare out of the window to entertain yourself.
One of my memories that I remember is speaking to this guy, who back in the day had a big blog called Facehunter.
He photographed people outside the shows with their outfits and blog about them in his website.
He was very successful because a lot of people in fashion, including me would die to be featured in his blog.
I mean, I had no chance in being in it since I wasn’t fashionable back then but I was pleasantly surprised that I got a chance to chat with him on the bus — I think we were all bored going to one place to the other that little chit chat broke the monotony.
The best part of the being in the bus is when you arrive.
The people that worked at the venue assume that everyone in that bus has an invitation so you get ushered inside, bypassing those big burly bodyguards that scan you with your invite.
So, we did that for a day . . .
Honestly, though after awhile, seeing clothes paraded all day; listening to people talk about themselves and how fabulous their life is in fashion and the waiting and rushing to go to each of the venues . . . it was freaking tiring.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was fun and exciting but after the third day, even Miguel said, “you can have my invitations for the day because I’m tired!”
I was also tired and want a break.
But there was only one show that he want to go to and it was at the tail end of fashion week and it was Raf Simons.
Honestly, at that time, I didn’t really know much about Raf but I knew that he was a big designer.
And now that show it will be very difficult to get in.
I took my chance and at this point, I figured I went all this time without an invitation, luck was on my side.
The venue was at The Palais Omnisports de Paris-Bercy.
It was quite a trek to get there and it was late afternoon and I think Miguel was just finishing his job and was going to meet me at outside the venue. I got there first, I think was like 30 minutes early, I went to a cafe to wait for him.
And I’ve noticed all these fashion people coming out of the Metro and walking to the venue. Even at the cafe, there were a few people that we’re just waiting out the time to get in the show.
Of course, me, my hands started to sweat, my heart was beating a mile a minute (well the espresso doesn’t help) and I kept looking at the time and wondering what’s taking Miguel so long to get there.
I didn’t have enough credit on my phone to call him (yes, I was that poor!) and this is before wifi . . . so I was just waiting and waiting . . .
As the crowd started to grow and I can see from the distance that there’s a clump of people in front of the doors of the venue, out comes Miguel from the Metro.
The joy of seeing him and he didn’t stood me up . . . well, let’s just say, he was a sight for sore eyes.
We proceeded to walk amongst all these Raf Simons’ fanatics and a few people are really decked out with head to toe Raf and we fell in line and waiting to go inside.
This is when my heart started to race again and Miguel kept on reassuring me that I will get in.
Easy enough for him to say, he had the ticket!
We were inching to the door and security guards were letting people in one by one . . . scrutinizing their invites and what’s inside their purses.
All of a sudden, Miguel handed me the envelope of the invite and said, “just show this to them!” as he clung on to his invitation.
In my mind, I’m like, “WTF is this!!”
They would easily look inside and there’s no invitation!
The moment of truth, we were in front of these 2 huge guys!
They asked us for our invitation.
Miguel showed his and I showed the envelope . . . I know what you’re thinking . . . it’s exactly what I’m thinking to so don’t worry!
As I predicted, one security guard looked inside the envelope and asked me in French, “where’s the invitation?”
Mind you, Miguel was already in the hall way waiting for me to pass . . . I started to panic and pretended to look inside my bag for that elusive invitation . . . of course, the people behind me were moaning to hurry it up or move out of the way . . .
I was casted aside by one of the security guard while I pretended to look for something in my bag that looked remotely like an invitation . . . of course, I had my Metro card and a pack of smokes and my camera in there . . .
What seemed like an eternity and looking at the crowd getting in and rummaging through my bag, out comes Miguel to explain to security that I’m with him! I don’t know what they were saying . . . it was all in French and I was too rattled to care . . . then, I looked up and the security guard, knowing that I didn’t have an invitation just nodded at me to get in! I was in complete shock at this point . . . Miguel grabbed me and rushed me to get inside.
My emotions were frayed at that point.
Seriously, I had no idea what just happened.
Anyways, as we walked inside this huge space, all I saw were benches all around with editors, buyers and fashionistas mingling around one another and the scaffoldings all around with these huge lights, I can’t describe the whole atmosphere accurately but let me tell you, it was like no other . . . well, at that point, I was so naive and never been to this kind of event this heavy produced and massive . . . it was awesome!
Of course, all the important people in fashion got to sit down with their name written down on place cards as for peasants like me, I had to stand.
At this point, the show was late and the over eager interns and people that were working the venue were screaming at everyone to sit down or if you’re standing to stand in the back.
I wanted to have a full view of the show so I ran and snuck myself just on the feet of the people at the pit!
The pit is where all the photographers that shoot the looks of the collection for all the magazine publications all over the world.
As the show was starting, I think one of the interns saw me and tried said that I can’t be where I was situated.
With a look of bewilderment and disgust, I stood up slowly and was angry that I had to leave my spot.
Whilst I was gathering my stuff, all the lights shut off and the show began.
Bitch, I immediately knelt down and the intern ran back somewhere but at this point, the first look walked passed me.
Let’s just say, I had the best spot to see the show and I got to photograph the whole thing!
I saw Miguel sitting in the back row but I think he stood up at one point because he couldn’t see anything from the back row.
At some point, I think a couple of people ran towards me to get a better view of the show.
Literally, there’s fluorescent tape all along the pit and if you go past that, these little interns would scream at you!
But, when the show started, they can’t do shit so these 2 people sat beside me and started taking pictures themselves.
I literally had to fight for the shots that I got because they’re cameras were sometimes blocking me.
It’s crazy because once the show started, people will do anything to get the shot.
I mean, they will claw or go in front of you to do so . . . and not give a shit.
You really have to fight to get the shot.
I mean, even at the pit, you can hear people argue because someone’s lens is on the way.
Or someone is late and they try to get inside the pit and literally, there’s no spot for them.
I mean, I understand because this is their job and they have to get the shots for their publications or else, they will be in big trouble.
Oh right, when the spotlights start to turn back on again and even the first look comes through, you can hear from the pit, “FEET, FEET, FEET!”
I’m like, WTF is “FEET?”
Then, you hear out this boisterous voice in the pit, “GET YOUR FEET OUT OF THE WAY!”
Oh ok, now I get it!!
Then, you see all these editors and fashion people start to fold their feet under their chairs!!
It’s so funny to see and hear!
And yes, I think most of the photographers, well, the ones that I’ve had the chance to talk to all spoke English.
When the show started and the first look came out . . . I was just in heaven!
It’s so euphoric and so exciting. I think at one point, I just put down my camera for a second so I can actually see from my own eyes what’s going on the runway. A second later, I was on that view finder and started shooting!
I’m like with all the drama to get in here . . . I’m going to get my shots!
The clothes were amazing and the shoes especially . . . I mean, what I would do to get those shoes.
It was so futuristic and cool that I knew it will be hella expensive just to get them!
Raf Simons
Shoe detail at Raf Simons
Raf Simons
Again, just when you think the show had just started and the bombardment of male model coming at you so quickly, the lights dimmed again and the show was over. I’m like, “that’s it?”
I mean, there’s like 50-60 models that passed by but because they are like walking so fast, the show was like 10 minutes tops. That’s what I’ve noticed, shows here in Paris . . . they are quick.
The waiting around for the show to start or falling in line to get in is where the longest part of going to the shows.
The show ended with all the models parades through and Raf came out to take his bow.
However, everyone in that pit started to pack their gear and some of them descended from the raised pit.
I ran towards Miguel and I hugged him.
I was just so lucky to have him invite me to go to this because it was so special and amazing and I could never thank him enough.
We riffled out of the venue to go outside to have a smoke and recount what had happened.
For me it was a dream and it’s funny to look at Miguel and perhaps he doesn’t know this but I’m sure he’s thinking, it’s just another show, another fashion week, another event to go to . . . but for me, because it’s my first fashion week, it was special! I got to the shows without any invitations and still managed to get in.
My blog featured in Vogue Girl Korea
A year after my first Paris Fashion Week, I documented all my shenanigans on my first blog. (I won’t say the name of my blog because now it’s private.
Yes, I had blog that I started in 2007.
It was the height of that blogger craze and I followed of them like Bryanboy, Suzie Bubble and FaceHunter.
Well, because of that blog, I guess, because I was writing a lot about fashion, that blog was featured in Vogue Korea!!
Yes, I guess, one of my readers sent me a copy of the write up that was written about my blog.
I was shocked and amazed because I was just writing about my experiences and I thought only my friends were reading it. But, there it was featured in Vogue.
Here’s the more of the story and how to survive and get in to Paris Fashion Week.
1) Have friends in fashion. Literally, if you’re with them and they have an invitation, 90% of the time (well maybe not Chanel or Dior or the bigger designers) you can get in.
2) Pretend not to speak French.
For the most part, a lot of the people that work at the door only speak French or they’re not fluent in English.
So, if you speak fast in English and kind of make a little scene (but not be rude), 9 out of 10 they don’t want to deal with you and they reluctantly let you in.
3) Confidence and look the part.
I mean, I didn’t look the part at all but I still got in.
But, what I’ve noticed is that some people are just dressed amazingly and because they are confident and thought that they belonged, they got it.
4) Contact magazines or Press Offices
After my first fashion week, I asked Miguel how he got all those invitations.
For the most part, he said because he’d worked with some of the people at the Press Offices and that’s how he got invitations. But, he said, if you contact magazines and propose to them that you can cover fashion week for them to publish in their magazine, then it’s easier for you to contact the PR firms or the designers directly to get the credentials to get in backstage or get an invitation as a guest.
Later on, I got my affairs in order and did it the “right” way and got credentials to get the shows.
But, my first time at Paris Fashion Week was the best because it was exciting and full of drama and because it was in Paris!
Again, sorry for the long ass story time.
But, if you made it this far, thank you for reading and please let me know what you think of my experience and if you have any stories to tell about fashion week, please write it down in the comments! I’d love to read it!
Thank you again to Miguel Rosales for giving me the chance to get to these shows and for always supporting me. Yes, we are still in contact (very much so) and he still lives in Paris and is still working as a fashion photographer!