Embarrassingly, I used to write a blog under the alias of Chloe titled life at 17 where I got carried away in endless interpretations of life at my new age. Two posts and five years later, I decided to start a new blog under what may as well be the sole remaining domain name with the intention of becoming so popular that one day it will earn me a spot on the guest list for a fashion show during fashion week in the very fashion capital I reside, NYC! Yep, the secret's out.

After witnessing jealousy-invoking photographs of fashion week on Instagram, I spent the week hounding my friend working backstage to sneak me in under several brilliant pretenses. To my dismay, her response never wavered, sans the unfortunate variation from her initial invitation. Due to the unprofessional nature my presence would produce, she had to retract her offer and I was forced to accept my fate.

I remembered hearing what I consider legends of fashionistas sneaking into the great white tents and procuring themselves front row seats to the shows in discussion. I also thought of my cousin who snuck into the Harry Potter premiere and a friend of mine who slapped on a dress and managed to hang with the celebs at the Golden Globes. My mind was set. I was going to brave the layers of security and attend a fashion show. All I needed was a partner in crime. 

I figured my friend who crashed the Golden Globes would be down to conspire. I sent her a text describing my plan and when her response came back positive, I told her to get dressed and meet me at Lincoln Center in 45.

First we observed the guards at the entrances, looking for the one most likely to believe our nonsense story of being interns whose tickets were inside. The key here was confidence and even though I completely blanked on the show we supposedly had tickets for, after a quick search on my phone, we were through.

Once inside, we covered every surface of the room taking pictures to document our successful entry, but the next part was much trickier. To get into a show, you need a ticket.

No exceptions. No excuses.

We needed a new tactic. My friend cleverly devised a plan of finding either a drunk or single man who looked interested in escorting two lovely ladies to the show. And that's exactly how we phrased it. The first guy we asked seemed thoroughly creeped out, and when we saw him running away, of course, I ran after him. My company was obviously not welcome, apparent from the fact that when we arrived at security, he double-checked that his invitation did not include a plus one. When the woman replied in the affirmative, he turned in my direction and with an air kiss said, "Sorry, honey."

As if. 

It was now five minutes until the show, but my accomplice and I refused defeat. She caught eyes with a tall, attractive man in his mid-forties and we had our new culprit. We cut right to the chase. He had intended on seeing the show, but because of the long line (there was none), he was leaving. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so before he could disappear, we not at all shyly asked for his ticket. He handed us not one, but two tickets to Anna Sui! 

Mission accomplished.

The show was magical by the way. :)

Sometimes it's not who you know, it's how far you're willing to go. 

xx Esther