Blame generation now, blame generation online media. Here’s proof that when it comes to fashion events, people are most likely going to watch, stare, gossip, eavesdrop, photograph AND twitpic whatever move you make. One of my twitter followers cheekily took a paparazzi-style photo of me chatting to Anna Wintour using his phone, at the Alexander Wang show in New York last month.
Let me share to you what I went through when that photo was taken. Earlier that day, Anna commended me for my use of these neon green hair scrunchies I got from Brazil as ankle bracelets to my Lanvin sneakers. I thought I’d ask her a question I’ve always wanted to ask.
Me: “Hi Anna! Out of curiosity, and Lady Gaga cover aside, when was the last time you did something for the first time?”
AW: *chortle* “Couldn’t you have asked a simpler question?”
*uhhhhhh 1, 2, 3, 4, time is ticking away, let me think, let me think, I’m not gonna waste her ti–*
Me: May I take your photo instead?
AW: *smirk* “Sure.”
Me: “Thank you”
After getting my shot, I slowly walked away to preserve whatever dignity (what dignity?) I have left. What else is there to do? Hang around for idle chatter and banter? I came to her to ask that one question, she answered, that was that. NEXT! Gotta move on, move forward and try to find another familiar face to talk to. Besides, I could feel and see from the corner of my eyes that they are talking about my question. It’s that blogger! Oh no Bryan didn’t! Burn! Send him to outer space!
I thought, oh geez, I blew it up big time!
Not more than ten feet and a few seconds later, one of the bodyguards called me (SIR! EXCUSE ME, SIR!) and I saw Anna stretch one arm and motioned me to come back to her.
I had this voice in my head chanting, uh oh, you’re gonna get it. You’re gonna get it really good. Be prepared for decapitation Bryan, this is it, this is the sacrificial lamb moment…
She smiled and said, “I went to China.”
Me: “Thank you. I saw those photos online a few months back.”
Instead of feeling defeated, I walked away with my chest out, beaming with joy and confidence this time around.
That was in New York.
By the time Paris came I’m all ‘oh hay mamacita mother hen, how are you?’ on her.
Just kidding. Not exactly like that but close enough. ;-)