When I was 15 years old, my mother took me to see 42nd Stree t on broadway. The show started with the curtain being lifted about six inches and all you could see were colorful tap dancing feet. My mother said my facial expression in that very moment was priceless pure joy.
I do not know what my face looked like during the first fashion show I attended, but I imagine it being very similar. I also imagine that my facial expression has not changed because the splendor of fashion week has not evaporated for me. Sadly, I have read and heard that the feeling is not the same for other attendees.
In the past, I have discussed the not so glamorous aspects of fashion week. The lines are long, your feet hurt, and as of lately brands tend to invite more people than the venue capacity allows (so an invite no longer guarantees entrance). There's no denying that what you see in the street style photos and the actual experience are two very different things.
Then the show starts! For me everything that led up to it and the fact that I am going to repeat the process for the next one melts away. For the 10 to 15 minutes the show is on (shows are very short), I get to bare witness to a designer's imagination coming to life. Breathtaking silhouettes, flowing fabrics, and unique beauty looks have the same effect on me as the aforementioned tap dancing shoes.
Maybe I am not jaded because I am still relatively new to fashion game (if five years counts as new). Maybe it's because there are so many designers that I have yet to see. Maybe the awe will never wear off for me because I will always be grateful to be there. There are plenty of people who will never attend fashion week (and want to). When I first started out, I thought I would be one of them.
Every collection is a seed of an idea that each designer put his or her blood, sweat, and tears into to make bloom. If that doesn't wow you every time, then maybe you're right. Maybe fashion week is over for you. It's magic. For me, fashion is magic. I will never stop believing that.