Setting Me On Fire

8

NYFW

Back when I was younger, I watched my mother do her job flawlessly, she worked backstage at fashion shows and gave it her all. I always told myself that one day I'll be just as impressive as her, if not more. 

In Milan, fashion week was the best time of my life. I waited months just to witness the street style during Milan Fashion Week, and every design that you saw on a model looked beautiful, creative, and bright. I was extremely proud to be Italian seeing my fellow Italian models representing us. I was glad and grateful to my mother who allowed me to watch the whole production unfold.

It was a real and exhilarating privilege to experience the whole process behind the product and see the product unfold before so many people who loved fashion as much as me.

And now here I was, creating the same experience for another small girl waiting on the sideline to become a fashion director or designer. 

People may say I was aloof, but those who had the advantage of seeing me when I was heartfelt and considerate of people's feelings, would say otherwise. I just had my days and moments.

"Is the after-party at your place Ms. Ambrosia?" Patricia Morge, the photographer of today's fashion show asks me as I pass her in the hall of the fashion house. 

"Yeah, see you there." I smile at her and keep walking, she looks back at me with utmost gaiety. I was looking forward to my after-party, of course, there will be other after-parties taking place throughout New York but mine will have a throng of fashionistas, celebrities, some show producers, and more. My after-parties are always the hype of fashion week.

The socials always overflow with pictures of people having the greatest time. I don't mean to brag, but my parties are just what people look forward to after a fashion show. Two years ago, my parents came to my after-party and then put it on Twitter. I and Marco had a blast joking about it the morning after, but that was a long time ago. We hadn't spoken since then.

I should call them and see how they're doing. 

"Do all models know their positions in the line-up?" I ask everyone as I walk backstage where the real magic happens. Amelia looks over at me as she's standing beside a model who's being dressed by a dresser I don't recognize, she was probably a new one.

"Yeah," she says. She walks up to me now. "We got your email, and I told the models that you want them to smile, and show that they're excited to be here as much as the audience is."

I nod. "Appreciated, keep up the good work, see you later." She smiles and walks back to her recent position.

I make my way to Ruby, and Steven, two of the people working with Beyond 8, to ensure we get the sound, lighting, and music cued and ready to go. 

"How's everything, ready to go?" I put a thumbs up in question. They stop talking and nod with anxious expressions and slightly wide eyes. Were they scared of me? Hmm, would a smile help? 

I smile, "Good to hear, keep up the good work." They return the smile and I walk away. Everything seemed to be in good hands. I walk up to the hair and make-up employees working on the models. 

I used to be amazed at how they can get a model to look so different just by applying a tint of color on their face or changing up their hairstyles. Creativity was a transformation, a trip to explore new ideas and projects. This was the industry that transformed me. That built me and raised me.

I leave backstage and decide to go greet the guests and check if my brother was here yet. I'd have to admit, having my brother around did give me a sense of comfort. Growing up, he knew me better than anyone and still did, and I knew him. We were grown and some things were out of the picture but still, we knew each other's habits, personalities, dislikes, likes, and so much more. Which is how I caught on to his vibe whenever he came by my place.