Sit front row at Fashion Week

“It is, understandably, a bit of a comedown: I’m just sitting at my desk — no make-up, no bra — compared to my experience at the London shows, trying not to sweat through my dress as I push through the street-style circus outside some crumbling theatre or warehouse space in the city. There’s no pre-show chatter, no sitting around on an uncomfortable bench for a show that’s 45 minutes late, no celebrity spotting and, most significantly, no rush at seeing the first model emerge on the catwalk.”

“I consider myself a Fashion Week veteran, having braved countless years of New York Fashion Week humidity, hurricanes, and haute couture. So to be honest, I wasn’t expecting to be blown away by the grandeur or production level of the Palm Desert event. Opening night set the tone for the week with sparkling lights and confectionary colors contrasting against the already surreal backdrop of the mountainscape. Interactive displays of sartorial and artistic expression were dotted around the tent. The crowd, throughout the eight bustling days at The Gardens on El Paseo, was dressed to the nines — although that phrase had its own set of unique interpretations.”