Why I'm Not Attending NYFW in September
Required Birthday Post; Life Update
Despite my best gatekeeping efforts, here’s another edition of The People Person, the ONLY newsletter that spills the tea on fashion’s hidden gems and (accurate) pop culture hot takes.
Today, I’m pausing the fashion talk, fessing up to my current whereabouts, and providing a much-needed life update. Before my tell-all, check out my recent interview with rising guitarist Towa Bird and my review of Ice Spice’s lackluster debut album.
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I’m writing this entry the Saturday before my 24th birthday on Tuesday, August 6th.
I always turn into an existential worrywart around my annual milestone, and wanted the space to explain my current Armageddon.
Truth be told, I always wanted to be a writer, though it took a college professor to convince me to become a journalist. Growing up, “no” was everyone’s favorite word, so I made it a point not to adopt it to my career. When there’s a will, there’s always a follow-up, another contact, and another opportunity, too.
Throughout college, I had a really tumultuous relationship that plummeted my self-esteem, ruined my post-grad prospects, and almost compromised my career drive. So, pursuing freelance straight from college wasn’t a viable choice, but no job wanted an English major— and no PR could rewrite that narrative. I was jealous that my friends could at least feel dissatisfied with their first post-grad job; I just felt like a scarlet “N-O” was spelled across my forehead.
However, while digging through my mostly hate-filled high school time capsule, I stumbled upon some truth crumbs: the words “author or journalist” scribbled next to the "dream job" category. I took it as a sign that “journalist” was the closest I could get to authorship since my professors instilled no appetite in me for 80,000+ words. Since that moment two years ago, I made up my mind: I would become a “Y-E-S” my own way.
Two years of staying up till 1 or 2 AM finishing articles because I spent the day emailing ex-professors and my favorite editors about their best freelance practices. Two years getting on press lists from absolute strangers, who I had to convince I was special even when I felt no sparkle. Two years of never letting extreme imposter syndrome crack my smile in the face of praise. Two years and countless New York trips, where I was once the only volunteer at an industry event because the boss’s little sister read my inquiry and took a chance. New York, where they mistake my kindness as “southern charm” rather than common decency. (Also, I’m mid-Atlantic?)
Two years of advocating for myself when my first boss tried handing off my interviews to other co-workers and nearly getting fired for it. Two years of rejected emails and the rare few that turn into real-life friendships and editorial opportunities. Two years and in dire need of a vacation to Italy because I haven't been in four years and feel like I'm forgetting the language
Two years and I love it. Two years, and I'm seeing the results; I see it paying off. And for the first time in two years, I am saying no. I’m saying no to this September’s New York Fashion Week. In February, I felt a creeping fatigue after visiting the Black Fashion Fair in Chelsea, which was more than meeting designers back-to-back for over two hours. For once in my life, the workload caught up to my ambition, writing articles on my commute between the world’s fashion epicenter and my quaint hometown. There was simply no rest, no downtime. There still isn’t.
The one thing that 2024 taught me is that there’s more to life than ambition. As my own income, it can be quite difficult to unplug/feel satisfied. To always do. As my own brand, you want to prove you’re the best. Or, at least, I used to feel that way. Recently, I don’t care about being top dog. Right now, I’m on a different path.
I’m not sure what I want, and that’s why I’m taking a break. I made it through these two years on sheer willpower and hunger alone. Since turning 23, I accomplished most of my previous bucket list’s dreams in eight months: Fashion Week, Substack, celebrity interviews—including one of my top bands of all time— befriending industry icons and next generation’s game-changers, etc. Now, I need to hit the refresh with more “impossible” challenges after “un-impossible-ing” the past few years.
I need a new list for my new age, and that will require me to sit in solitude, touch grass, and ultimately opt out of Fashion Week next month. Remember Christina Yang looks to “Heart In A Box” to inspire her list of life-defying surgeries? Sorry for the Grey’s Anatomy reference, but I’m Yang in this scenario: I need creative freedom and native intuition for this quest.
Now, I don’t plan on playing hooky in day-to-day writing. Actually, I have listicles and a few interviews scheduled for August with Beyond The Pines. However, I am peeling back from the social media hum and other undertakings to dedicate myself to my “Heart In A Box” ramblings: new seemingly impossible dreams that make my heart flutter. Hopefully, you will see these new creations in other publications soon.
Most importantly, in the year of “there’s more to life than ambition,” I would love to establish a more offline connection: seeing my friend more, potentially moving out, visiting my family in the Italian countryside, and prioritizing rest overall. Really, I want to be more “in touch” with my non-work life. I had put my peace on the back burner the past few years, even experiencing several week-long burnout spells within the past year alone.
So, on top of pursuing new projects, I’m still finagling a solid work-life balance. Ideally, I would love to have a solid grounding by next year, but if life keeps coming at this speed, I’m lucky if I have a one-month sabbatical. And we all know that’s not happening anytime soon. I have so much in store… it just excludes New York Fashion Week this time. Oh well.
Now that I’ve played the role of The People Person, being everyone's personal sleuth, it’s time for me to call it quits here. Please follow me on social media at your own risk (i.e., an unbelievable amount of Instagram Story drivel.) Although I preview my written work on Instagram, you can read my published work in their entirety here, too.
If this reading left you knowing more, needing more, and want to include others in the fun, please feel free to do so by signing them up for a subscription.
This investigative madness wouldn’t be complete without my readers who simply want to know. Trust me, I've been there, and with every door slammed in my face, I find a way to weasel myself back in. And, boom, I’m back with a scary amount of secrets carried by my imaginary Fendi Brown Leather Spy Bag (personally brutalized by the Olsen Twins) and share them with you. .
Until we meet again! xo