My dear lovely, lovely, lovely readers. You have come to enjoy timely features from me and those I ask to participate on SheBreathes, but I must make a confession. I am tired, sick, and stuck in my hotel room in London. Let me back up, this is no Nyquil induced confessional it's just straight-up honesty. One of the very reasons why I never partook in the daily chronicling of any fashion week is because it can and will wear you down. This season I was a bit ambitious in my need to prove to myself that despite the lack of a "machine" behind me I could cover these shows like any "big" outlet. This in hindsight was a major no-no. The bloody buggers have won and I sit back and laugh nyquil out of my nose at the insanity of it all. I have run myself haggard, to the point of sleep induced nightmares of "capturing the right shot", which has become a re-occurring nightmarish dream.
The hotel doctor has ordered me to sleep and down plenty of fluids and a follow-up visit in a few days. Goldie is here but even he is less than enthused, not by fashion but the "race" to the finish line. Dare I say that if I don't feel better by Monday then the love of my life and auntie {who has been checking in on me hourly} have ordered me home. I'm sure the airline, which barely let me on their plane will be none-to-happy with the infected one returning. All in the name of fashion eh? I haven't conceded just yet, but it was far more fun when a few shows was sufficient for me, but monstrous appetites will bring you to your knees. I am not that "editor" and probably never will be, not that I ever thought I was, but dreaming big doesn't mean we have to lose sight of reality. And let me state I rarely liked the idea of calling myself an "editor" but that's another confession and I'm digressing. I am one person and one person only, with some awesome people who helped this season. But I promise to make all of this up to you next season, where daily chronicling will be mastered and there won't be a backlog of shows to report on. I promise. Or it could be the Nyquil talking.

Some think the idea of fashion week is pure fun but honestly I find it
a bit nerve-wrecking. The concern when none of your photos are usable {Ports1961, Tibi,
Custo, Galindo}. Some PR send photos after the show, but for me there is nothing
like showing the personal captures. Of course one can always revert back to right-clicking on Style. Oh the things I didn't worry about
a season or so ago. Then sadness ensues when you miss shows like Mark Fast and
the size 14 models controversy, or Mary Katranzou's collection because you've been sick-sleeping since you landed. Or you get invites from shows in NY late, that's always fun. But I'm cool with knowing that one person, even 3 can't cover it all nor should they try. That's what style.com is for.

You will always need a better flash to combat ambiance and overbooking of shows, elbows and handbags in the back of your head because you're in the last row seats. I've discovered that 3rd row right of stage is way better than 3rd row left at the tents. I'm still mastering the offsites. Milk was perfect for beautiful photography, because most were presentations that I attended, which is always better in terms of rogue photography. And sometimes being that annoying person who stands gets you the shot you need at the tents . . . sometimes.

A pro photographer with a press pass will alleviate the issue of better photos next season, that way I can enjoy and just tweet my thoughts, which is a new form of note taking.


Pardon
my violin playing but I couldn't help since just a few days ago I was
healthy and upbeat.
So if I shared fotos that aren't up to style.com or getty images standard forgive me, because once upon a time one went to the shows quietly, wrote about them or took notes on pieces they wanted to use in an editorial. I'm new to this sharing part but again promise to do better next time and will take better care of myself with all that running from the tents to offsite shows, while the weather went from hot to cool in a matter of hours.
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