Paris...a la mode!

Through my internship I learned about Les Nuits des Musees, a night in which many museums stay open late and offer special previews, lectures, dances, and in the case which interested me the most…a fashion show!

I have been to two fashion shows in my life: The first was a Notre Dame High School fashion show when I was 12 and my sister participated as a model, and the second was a St. Pius elementary school fundraiser where my mom took the runway by storm (she took a few hints from America’s Next Top Model and looked great!) So that sums it up. Although I watch ANTM religiously and secretly hope that Tim Gunn will spot me in a crowd and ask me to be a guest model on Project Runway, I have never seen a professional fashion show. Last Saturday brought me as close to New York during Fashion Week, as I have ever been! The Hungarian Fashion Institute of Paris held a free fashion show for La Nuit des Musees in which, for the first hour, the students had the opportunity to showcase their work, and then after a pause for Hungarian wine tasting the professionals held a separate show in four sets. Ok, ok, so maybe it’s not New York during Fashion Week, but hey, it’s a fashion show in Paris! I was stoked!

The French are big on forming lines and waiting your turn, in the grocery store, at the taxi stand, at the check out counter of a department store, for the toilettes, to get on the bus, you name it. If you unknowingly walk directly up to the front you will get a very abrupt “Attention!” Followed by the most heinous scowl that person can conjure up, until you politely “Pardon” yourself and step back. Although, I must say that they are also very sneaky about jumping the line when at all possible, so stay on your toes! That said, this idea of a line completely goes out the window when the word “Avancez” is uttered. At this point, WATCH YOUR BACK!

It should be noted here that the Hungarian Institute of Fashion in Paris did not think to form a line for their professional fashion show, and the result was what I would imagine a rave to be like (without the music). As Darcy, her friend Laura, and I waited for the gentleman on the stairs to finish allowing those with invitations to enter we slowly began to feel the slight pressure at our backs as those soles behind us inched forward. This gentleman was not in the show, so I assume this was his fifteen minutes (more like 45 minutes) of fame. He savored his place on the stairs, as we all looked up to him, waiting for the magic words he wasn’t saying.

More waiting, the pressure at my back is only slight.

More waiting, the woman that was behind me is now beside me. I wish I had a chair.

More waiting, that woman is now in front of me…and where did that group come from?

More waiting, the air is beginning to get tight and I am feeling a little faint, please let us in soon!
Now I’m being pushing up against the back of the guy in front of me (um excuse me sir, did you forget your deodorant this morning?)

Close quarters…need fresh air…or an air freshener…must get away from guy in front of me….what is the gentleman on the stairs waiting for?

Finally: “Pas d’invitations? D’accord, avancez!”

Oh shit.

Laura somehow got ahead of Darcy and me and to the stairs, which was good because she ran upstairs and claimed the seats where we had left our coats from the previous student fashion show. Without her, those coats would surely have been shoved to the floor and we would have been standing for the next hour.

Wearing high heels was a bad idea, even if I did want to be fashionable at the fashion show. It is much more difficult to keep your balance when you’re being shoved from three different directions (forward was unfortunately not one of the directions or I might have gone with it) and wearing heels. Finally, I got separated from Darcy, but to the stairs, and freedom! Luckily, Darcy was just behind me in the next group that was let through.

As I passed another gentleman at the entrance to the fashion show, who bowed his head slightly as he greeted me, I turned into the bright lights and walked down the runway to my seat next to Laura. There it went my fifteen seconds of fame (if you can call it that). Had the cameras been on, the heels would have been a good idea after all…hey, I can always pretend right?!?

Watching the show was completely worth all the waiting and shoving! There were a few very different styles, which I cannot imagine to ever be worn off the catwalk. There were a few which I might have recommended to be accompanied by a bra, or bandeau of some sort, but then I remembered I was in Paris and nudity is much less controversial here. Then there were the outfits and dresses for which I would like to have a magic wand to zap them into my closet. I wonder what it would be like to have an endless selection of outfits in your closet. Maybe you could have a magic trunk overflowing with shoes, belts, purses, and every accessory ever created. Would you still rummage around and think that you have nothing pertinent to wear? Or maybe you would always end up wearing very simple things because there would be too much to choose from. No you would probably just always look FABULOUS! *Snap!* Sorry I was just dreaming there for a moment.

Now it’s possible that you are reading this and thinking, “Wow, Julie has turned into a materialistic snob during her three months stay in Paris.” You may be correct, although I have always liked to play dress up, ever since I was little and my friend Becky and I would open up a suitcase of her aunts’ old evening gowns, transporting us into another era. In my dreams, Clueless is my stage and I am electronically scouring Cher’s closet for the cutest new style. My feet however (which happen at the moment to be housed in a $15 pair of white tennies from H&M), are firmly planted on the ground and you might even say that I am “tight” with money. I assert that I have not done very much shopping during my stay in Paris and my credit card is safely stored deep in my wallet where the department stores and street markets cannot find them. If it’s possible, I am actually under budget (though I fear that by posting this, I will somehow enrage the gods responsible for Murphy’s Law and come home with empty pockets). Perhaps, instead of calling it materialistic, I will re-classify myself as a connoisseur of fine (read: pretty) articles within the fashion industry. I look, albeit with envy, but don’t touch 

That evening was nicely rounded out by a delicious crepe with goat cheese, French ham (which for some reason, just does not taste like the ham you find in the states) and salad. We also shared a chocolate, banana, and Chantilly crème crepe for dessert…yum!!!