Okay - I am about to prove my claims that I am a LADY. Are you ready? Yes, I was brought up by an elegant and demure lady, my beautiful grandmother. We sipped tea with our pinkies out, she funded me to take piano, dance and riding, we went "antiquing", we read stories, we played word games, we gardened, and we spoke perfect English. We overlooked many issues, we were gracious to our guests to the point of treating them like family. We had lobster for dinner every Thursday night and invited hoards of friends and friends of friends to countless dinner/afternoon/birthday/holiday/tea parties. We walked our guests into the house and back to their cars, waving to them from the doorway or the driveway as they drove away. We dressed nicely and we ironed our linens and we lived beautifully.
So now imagine my surprise to be calmly and prettily living my life and realizing how hard life really is. Oh my gosh. I have made mistakes all over the place. This is no Grandma's House. You can't trust anyone and you can't let your guard down. You can't be too nice and you have to endure nasty emails and you have to sign your life away every where you turn. So now my perfectly charming charm is misunderstood, trounced upon, taken advantage of, and used to the betterment of other people's psyche's. Not that I mind the last one, when given freely. I love helping other people, sharing my ideas, and encouraging others to succeed. I've said this before - I refuse to change. However, I have also said that I wanted to leave the Boston Fashion Scene a few times. Ahem. But nice people really pull me back and want me here, so I keep coming back. (Sigh, eyes rolling.) I do not go to fashion events because I am expected, or adored, or that the media eats me up when I arrive. I do not go because people think that fashion is big business and that I will make a lot of money. (Although SOMEDAY I keep predicting that Big Business will meet High Fashion and we will all fall onto our mattresses and make snow angels in all the cash.)
So why do I go? I go because I love it. I love fashion, I love music, I love the models and the designs and the people and the networking. I love that you never know what is going to happen at a fashion show. I love seeing the joy of the designer as he/she watches the looks go down the runway. I love seeing how nervous the beautiful models are and how exhilarated they get when they step back into the dressing room after being on the runway. I love seeing the little things that only another event planner/stylist/model/photographer would see go wrong - straps showing, strings hanging, timing of when the models walk, how slow/fast they are going, and countless, countless other things.
SO. What has me so bothered THIS time about fashion in Boston!!!?? Come just a little closer. So, if I could let go of my lady-ness I would completely spill it to you right here, right now. However, I can't do that. If you are in the know, you will find out eventually. You can always ask me personally and I might tell you. I'm not sure. WWASD? (What Would Ashley Simpson Do?) I was so mortified by yesterday's developments in my little fashion world that I gave up my lovely BFW evening. I was just shaking too hard. Instead I paced the parlor, fuming and pouting because I had to write emails and make phone calls explaining to very lovely people a very awkward (mortifying really) situation that someone put me in. Yes, behind the scenes of these beautiful fantasy fashion events it is a very cut-throat business. You perhaps think I am exaggerating. Ah you poor innocent dear. If I let down my fan and whispered in your ear behind the palm fronds some of the things that I have seen and have had happen to me, you would faint into your pudding.
Ah! The delights of Fashion Week!! Have we impressed you yet?? And even through all of this, this is the BEST Boston Fashion Week we have ever had and you can't miss another moment. (...as I predicted.)
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