Jess' Life: The Plight of the Intern

It is a thankless job with little to no pay, long hours and more experience than you could ever hope to gain in a classroom or retail job.  Every semester fashion hopefuls scrounge to get some of the most highly coveted internships in the industry.  We all do this with the hopes that adding those few lines to our résumés will mean an entry level position post graduation.  An internship at a reputable company is an integral part of securing a real industry job, or so we've been told.  

So we go in to these companies three days a week putting our best foot forward.  You observe the women in the office.  How they dress, how they carry themselves, how they speak, their work ethic, and you take notes, lots and lots of mental notes.  You try to remember every little nugget of information that your superiors give you, because you just know that it will come in handy.  "The fashion world is incredibly small, so don't make any enemies."  "You can take all the marketing classes in the world, but attention to detail and efficiency are what help you to survive here."  "Ask questions.  Better to ask questions than to screw up and have to explain later."  And you hang on to these words, because you're ever hopeful that you will get the opportunity to put them to use sooner than later.

Never mind that you get overlooked when the account managers are introducing the team.  Don't worry about the fact that you don't get to eat what everyone else gets to eat of the catered meals.  Ignore that your feet hurt from wearing heels to run errands all day.  Don't focus on the fact that you may or may not get credit for your contribution to the overall goal.  Stay positive.  Be teachable.  Always be willing and available to help.  Don't take anything personally.  Make a positive and lasting impression.  Be a self starter.  Take some initiative.  Whatever you do dress well.

Alexandre Mattiussi: The Normal Designer

 

The plight of the modern fashion designer consists of finding that sweet spot between artistic expression   and mass appeal.  Contrary to popular belief it is the masses that determines the success or failure of a designer.  It really isn't considered fashion until it is accepted by the masses, and most people aren't into the avant garde looks that we see on the runways.  The designers that survive in this world of big business and commercialism are those that find the balance between maintaining/communicating their creativity, and their ability to produce clothing that is realistically wearable.  People are more inclined to dress for function than fashion as evident by the morning ritual throughout our office whereby we all change out of our Hunter boots into our heels.

I am a huge proponent of wearable, realistic, affordable fashion.  Hence, my heart went aflutter when I came across a story on the Parisian label Ami by designer Alexandre Mattiussi.  The menswear designer's line presented during Paris Men's Fashion Week looks like what your average fashionista would want her boyfriend to dress like.  There are no outrageous gimmicks or themes, and you don't have to think too hard to understand what you're seeing.  The models are multi racial and look like regular guys that you may see in Williamsburg Brooklyn or strolling through Bergdorf's.  The approachability of the pieces in familiar colors like red, camel, black, and white make you feel even more at ease with this line of clothing for everyday guys that care about the way they dress.

Mr.  Mattiussi has studied and worked under some of the biggest names in fashion from Dior to Marc Jacobs to Givenchy, but decided that he wanted to make clothes that he could actually afford.  “I mean, I just want a nice sweater,” Mr. Mattiussi said. “I don’t want to put zippers all over it.”  Following his successful show, he didn't opt for a swanky after party, but went for beer and pizza with friends and family.  This is my kind of designer!

Lesson of the Day: Humility

So, the past couple of weeks have been Market week at my internship.  This means that retailers come in to view the next season's collections and place their orders.  What does this mean to little old me?  The chance to sit in on appointments and get a firsthand look at the business side of fashion, but it also means free food.  The company has catered breakfast and lunch for clients that are coming in to view the collections. and for the fit models.  (Yes, they encourage models to eat.) Let me preface this next part by saying that I work with an amazing group of people in my department.  Their level of dedication to their jobs is a great example of work ethic and they treat me with the utmost respect. 

The table was full of fresh fruits, pastries, quiches of all varieties, oatmeal, fresh juices, and huge silver urns full of that magical substance on which New York runs: coffee.  The spread looked delicious and terribly inviting to a girl who had skipped breakfast in an effort to get to work on time.  I crossed the showroom observing the executives double kissing the buyers on the cheek and exchanging pleasantries while the statuesque models showed off the floor length gowns embellished with hand crafted beading begging to be on the red carpet during awards season.  I quickly appointed Oscar nominees to each gown in my mind.  

I gingerly go to grab a ceramic plate to take place in this shmorgishborg of delight and was told immediately not to eat off of the ceramic plates as those are for the guests.  This little woman who stood no taller than 4'11 told me that I am to eat off of the plastic wear set aside on a window seal next to the food.  I felt so embarrassed as I had to step out of line and go over to use the lesser than flatware.  The women standing behind me could sense my humiliation and focused in extra hard on the task at hand of fixing their plates.  By no means am I a fancy shmancy girl, but I do not eat off of plastic plates, so this was a real blow to my ego.  The only thing that made it worse was that I was told I couldn't eat from the main table when I went back for lunch.  So as to not ruin the display for the clients I was told to eat from the food that had been set aside elsewhere, and it was not the same level of offerings as what had been laid out on the linen covered table designated for the clients/guests.

I shamefully arranged my chicken breast with butter sauce, salad with avocado, and roasted vegetables on my little clear plastic plate and sauntered downstairs to eat with my plastic cutlery out of my paper cup.  

Myself and the other interns laughed at our second class citizen treatment and enjoyed our free meal nonetheless, but I made a declaration unto myself at the very moment that I was turned away from that table that I will never allow my sense of self worth to be dictated by someone else.  That woman was just doing her job, and it was nothing personal against myself or the other interns, but it still made me feel some type of way.  I chalked this up to a brief, harmless lesson in humility for the day, and as soon as I got home that night I prepared myself a meal and ate off of my own ceramic plates.

Same Goals, Different Struggle

Since I began on this journey to find my way into fashion I have been compared to quite a few women.  Of course moving from Atlanta to Brooklyn, New York I get "oh so you're like 'A Belle in Brooklyn.'  When I did a brief stint as a fashion stylist I constantly heard: oh you must want to be the next June Ambrose, but the most frequent comparison has been to the one and only Carrie Bradshaw.  The Sex and the City character that stole our hearts years ago with tales of love, sex, and fashion.  While I will agree that there are some parallels betwixt the lives of Ms. Bradshaw and myself I want it to be known that my life differs dramatically from that of hers albeit fictional.

I fully appreciate the comparisons to such dynamic women, but it is not now nor has it ever been my goal to be the next anyone.  However, it is my perpetual goal everyday of my life to be the best me.  The one and only me.  In the words of Rousseau: I venture to believe that I am not made like any of those who are in existence.  If I am not better, at least I am different.

I moved to New York to attend the Fashion Institute of Technology and to pursue a career as a fashion journalist.  Sound familiar right?  Well the differences lie here.  First, I do not own an extensive collection of designer clothes and shoes.  I am a college student (for the second time) a blogger, and an intern at a high end designer showroom.  That a huge budget does not make.  Second, only very lucky or wealthy people own a fabulous one bedroom apartment in Manhattan.  I live in the culturally diverse borough of Brooklyn.  Lastly, I have no exciting tales of dating in New York, but maybe that will change soon who knows?  Carrie and I are both in pursuit of love and fashion, but our struggles are vastly different.

So if you are to read this you will get a real account of what it is like to move from your hometown to the busy city that never sleeps.  Everyone on social media is so "rich and fabulous" particularly those in fashion.  The truth is I'm not, not yet at least.  So this is my way of telling the real story of moving to New York to pursue fashion when you don't have the privilege of living as if money is no object and you have to make your own connections.

There is a love story between New York and fashion, this is mine.