Blinded by the Light: My First Fashion Show (Part 2)
Continued from Part 1.
Our flock finally gathers in a vestibule at the top of the stairs. Eventually I realize that we are all waiting to check in at a bank of fold-out tables mashed together like 8-year olds arriving at summer camp. The harried interns behind the tables probably have cousins in Vermont doing this exact same shit in front of a log cabin by a lake.
There’s a wait to check in but no apparent effort to stop people from just walking past the check in area and straight into the show. I spend the entirety of my wait in line considering doing exactly this. By the time I had decided to make a go at it, I was already giving my name to harried intern number 3, who found me on “the list” and handed me a card marked “ST”. The guy next to me got an “ST” as well. “They must hate us,” he says to me. So I assume I’m in the standing section. We leave the fluorescent purgatorial light of the check-in area and dive into the dark glow of Studio B.