Blog Premiere - ANZFW

I’ve always told myself that I would attempt to stray from what is considered “popular” – for reason of wanting to be at a distance from the crowd. But almost always, I find that I accept whatever it may be as contemporary and relevant. The subject at hand: blogging. I’m not entirely sure what inspired me to create this blog, but here we have it.

So here I am, at home in bed after an exhausting day in Auckland. It’s Thursday, 23rd September 2010 and Air New Zealand Fashion Week is coming to a close. This wasn’t my first time to attend a fashion show, but it was my first time at fashion week. I was somewhat excited about the whole idea.


Photo: New Zealand Fashion Week

I was sent an email with an invitation to Annah Stretton’s show, which I RSVP’ed to as attending. I thought perhaps I would receive a confirmation, but obviously I thought wrong. But on the day of the show however, I received an email from Annah’s husband Tony, saying that I’m to go to registration and pick up my ticket. I do so, and then I join the line, take my seat, chat to some people, laugh about what has been left on our seats (Milky bar and bottle of water) and watch the show. The clothes were great – classic Annah Stretton, but reinvented once again.

What I found bizarre was that one middle aged Irish woman – who I shall refrain from naming or describing - had been at the Westpac tents all day, waiting in line to get into shows that she had no ticket to. It appears that if not all the seats have been filled, you are allowed to enter to account for the empty positions. Oh what’s this? Can I wait outside of Musée Rodin just in case not everyone has decided to attend Christian Dior? Ce n’est pas possible. Hey Karl, Claudia said I could take her seat. Non, non, non, non. I don’t understand for a second how it is that they can just left in a group of 50 or more random people into a fashion show – with no invitation. It leads me to question how “exclusive” the whole week-long event really is.

While making my way to Annah’s show however, I was stopped at some traffic lights by a woman called Nga Waiata. “Hi, can I take a photo of you?” It was a bit of a shock, in all honesty. We exchanged light conversation. She said she would stick me on her blog, asked if I was a model, told me she was going to the Salasai show, and off we went in our separate ways. With all the wind blowing about, I hope the photo turned out okay.

I’m not entirely sure how flowing this blog is, but I felt the need to write it. Perhaps it’s one of those “write it down” moments – hopefully lacking the diary connotations.