Fashion in new york city is supposed to be the creme de la creme, correct? the home of project runway, the center of the financial world, the hub of fashion schools, the magazines hover here influencing clothing lines from the appointment-only boutique to kmart. new york city is the infrastructure for the fashion system. i expect to see women bent over starving, yet dressed to the nines. i expect to see men dressed within an inch of their life.
well two – nearly three months – later, that does not seem to be the case. i blend in. by no measure stick, am i a fashionista. i’m more like the pre-transformation sabrina, the one who watches the grand parties from the tree just off the premises, living vicariously through other people. except i look to the street, the subway, and the magazine. every day i am disappointed that i don’t see more prada. or i don’t see the latest diane von furstenberg dress flouncing up and down the sidewalks. i only expect this because one of my friends (who happens to be a native new yorker) told me nyu students are some of the best dressed people around. there’s only one girl in my program who wears mildly interesting clothes. yet, i am still waiting to be convinced.
maybe, i don’t know the right people. maybe i should be in the upper east side to see proper fashion on the street. perhaps, it’s because i’m not out living the gossip girl life on thursday night, but rather home watching Ugly Betty, The Office and Scrubs (who put this schedule together?! two hours of my life gone. just like that!).
maybe, shit attracts flies.
and in this case, i need to become a fashionista to see other fashionistas.