So, New York Fashion Week started yesterday.
And where am I?
Yup. I’m skipping this September.
I’ve attended eight straight seasons over the past four years, and it’s become a big part of my life — the planning, the anticipating, and then attending (and recovering from…) the shows each season.
But this season? I’m staying home.
On one hand, I’m bummed. I love Fashion Week and I miss being there so much.
On the other hand… I’ve had to face the fact that my life is a little (a lot) different right now than it was a year ago, and this season, the idea of packing up a four-month-old and heading to New York just seemed…
Truthfully, that’s the best word for it — the idea that I would attend NYFW this season was one of those decisions that I made when I was pregnant and thinking about the idea of a baby, and not the actual, living, breathing, crying, screaming, non-sleeping, messy little real baby who showed up a few months later. I imagined myself strolling up to the tents in heels, a sweet little newborn cradled in my arms.
(Yes, you read that right: In my imagination, not only was he coming to New York with me, but he was actually attending fashion shows in my arms. Oh my god, you guys.)
Basically, I thought that I was Victoria Beckham.
And it turns out that no, without a staff of nannies and drivers and someone to hold your bag and phone and burp cloths… heading to Lincoln Center with a four-month-old is sort of out of the question.
I had still planned to go until a few weeks ago, when I was sitting in Bear’s room, putting him to bed, and I realized that the reality probably wouldn’t look the way that I imagined it.
Instead, I realized that I was most likely going to miss half my shows because the baby would (1) spit up on every outfit I’d packed, (2) insist on breastfeeding until twenty minutes after each show was scheduled to start, or (3) GET SICK because full-grown adults with healthy immune systems get sick during Fashion Week every year (myself included, without fail)!
And with that, I came to the realization that, just for this season, I was better off staying home.
Fashion Week will be there for me next season. But right now?
We are better off staying home.
I’m planning to be back in February, and truthfully, I like February Fashion Week best of all — it’s a little smaller and less of a “scene,” a little less competitive and a little more fun. I’ll miss the shows, and I’ll miss seeing all of my my many friends, but there is no question that this was the right choice for us, right now.
So I’ll be livestreaming the shows this year, and poring over Instagram as the models make their ways down the runways. Because that breathless anticipation, that moment as the lights go dim, just before the music starts?
You can feel that no matter where you’re watching from.
Even three thousand miles away.