Pink signs and giant white balloons decorate the huge entryway. It is an 8-year-old's birthday party dream-come-true.
And although I’m feeling festive, I am not an 8-year-old, and this isn’t a birthday party… I am a twenty-something and this is one of the largest and most important fashion events of the year. As I walk into the convention center for the Project Las Vegas 08 show, I feel like a kid on the first day at a new school. I am making my introduction to the world of fashion journalism and I am diving in headfirst.
The enormous Project sign looms overhead, but somehow it still feels welcoming. I am so excited to cover my first big fashion event, but all I can think about is what I am wearing. Project is where designers debut their new collections for buyers to peruse for next season. The people who work here are at the fabulous forefront of the industry that I am just beginning to introduce myself to. They wear all the latest trends and have the upcoming ones at their fingertips. Some of them might even have the right to say, “I don't do fashion, I am fashion,” like the infamous Coco Chanel. And I am about to walk around this venue with a camera crew and a microphone. I know from experience, cameras and mics make people stop and stare.
As I begin to overanalyze this truth, I suddenly realize I haven’t thought my outfit through. I knew I’d be walking a lot, but the only comfy shoes I brought to Las Vegas were my Michael Kors red patent leather peep-toe flats. And I am wearing them.
Shit.
On any other day, I would be happy to sport my red shoes. They’re bright and fun, comfy and cute and have that “take an outfit to the next level” quality.
But today I am wearing my extremely pink Amanda Uprichard tuxedo dress. And red patent leather flats make me look like I am reviving “clash day” from elementary school.
I am having an anxiety attack.
I am wearing my new favorite dress (for the first time) and carrying the one-and-only designer tote I own (a Gucci with pink detailing), yet somehow I managed to march into this place of fashion worship in red patent leather shoes.
Quickly, I reach into my tote and pull out the shoes that were supposed to be for full-body, on-camera shots only. My subtle brown leopard print (yes, there is such a thing as subtle animal print), four-and-a-half inch, slingback heels that go with almost anything. I change as quickly and gracefully as one can change their shoes in the middle of a giant crowd of fashionistas.
Here, under the massive graffiti-esque Project sign, by an army of enormous white balloons, I sentence my feet to one full day of suffering for my rookie mistake. I race to catch up to my cameraman and wait in line to have my entry card swiped (Ahem! Press pass, thank you very much!).
“Excuse me,” a brunette Project staffer says.
Just before I can flash my press pass to ensure her that I do in fact belong here, she gushes “I LOVE your dress. Who’s it by?”
Who’s it by? My dress?
“Sorry, don’t think I’m weird. But we were watching you. We’re like, obsessed with it,” she says gesturing to another Project staffer a few feet away.
I feel my anxiety wash away. They don’t care that I stormed into this place like I was taking Normandy in red patent leather shoes!
I giggle and ramble some version of “Oh! Thanks! It’s Amanda Uprichard!” (all exclamations). I still feel like a new kid on the first day of school – there is the excitement of the unknown – but my insecurities begin to melt away as I realize that at a hugely important fashion event, full of hugely important fashion, my shoe mishap had been overlooked and I had, for a moment, been singled out and acknowledged by those I hope to someday call peers.
Photo: Zappos.com
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