New York Fashion Week is quickly approaching, and the models are everywhere!
The building my studio is located in suddenly becomes a mothership of fashion castings the week before NYFW and tall, emaciated, mysteriously eastern-european women flock toward it in droves.
Today, as I stalked up 9 flights of stairs, dripping umbrella in one hand, juggling cell phone, wallet and keys in the other, clad in my ever-alluring jcrew flats and humidity-rage infused hair, I came upon an occupation of models on the staircase between the 6th and 7th floors.
If you’ve ever walked up 9 flights of stairs, you know that by the 6th floor, you are both hitting your rhythm and also about to die. This is not the moment for a sudden unexpected halt to plead with a gaggle of amazonian women who are luxuriating in your path to let you climb over them to get to your office.
So while I tried not to faint from the abrupt disruption to my staircase marathon and they tried to untangle their extralong legs from their Celine bags, we somehow negotiated a way for me to climb past them and make it to the 9th floor.
It was awkward and humbling for both me and the ladies. A true NYC moment. I think someone should point out that NYC moments aren’t always magical. Sometimes they’re just particular.
I thought this sketch was sort of model-y. It was a first cut, the first rough drawing I do before painting. Sometimes I like these better than the finished product.