March 13, 2015
I’m fairly certain the entire quartier heard my squeals of joy when I opened my mailbox to find invitations to Paris Fashion Week resting inside. Rather than watching fashion’s elite strut by from one of the reclining chairs in the Tuileries, I was going to be one of them. Paris Fashion Week was here, and I had arrived.
After almost a decade of watching Project Runway, and obsessively re-watching The Devil Wears Prada, I thought I was primed and ready. However, while waiting to have my bag inspected at my very first fashion show, I began to have my doubts. The security guard smirked at me as he inspected the contents of my bag and I had to face the facts: I was probably the only person here with cookies in their purse.