welcome to the school that never sleeps!

that was the main point of my orientation lecture today.
i was one face in a sea of optimistic, naively-confident, wannabe-designer faces.
ironically, i've never felt less self-assured.


back home i always felt confident in my wardrobe and modestly happy with my appearance.  i sought to have presence in every room, self-affirming my potential fashion design abilities.
back home, it was clear i needed to pursue fashion.

skyline from battery park, 03.10

back home is the humble south, and honey, NYC is nothing. like. that.

photo-cred: boyfriend, 03.10

you know those rumors about fashion school? like all the girls are bitchy? spoiled? and dress like a poodle who collided with a shredder while wearing a biker jacket?  i'm here to refute these theories.

you know those rumors about fashion students working through the night for weeks on end? vying for the most lofty internships only to be punished by an overbearing fashion guru who makes you run coffee errands and massage her feet? desperately trying to keep up with the industry's lightning-speed evolution so we aren't ignored and wasting the 40K we dropped on tuition?  i'm here to validate these theories.

times square from empire st. 03.10

new york is a dazzlingly beautiful place--but it's like one a venus fly trap for the fashion hopefuls.  It's the place that makes things happen, right? we can't resist the glamour, the people, the resources, but it comes with a very sharp bite.  these are my writings (and means) of survival, the avoidance of being eaten alive by the very thing i want the most.


{commence cheesy end-note} buckle up! it's about to be a bumpy ride!