Tales of Fashion Week & Phlegm

Behold! Out of the deserted plains of this blog cometh Nami like a phoenix out of the fire...except more like a sick child emerging from a balled up comforter, covered in cracker crumbs and surrounded by tissues...

Let me explain.

First of all, I won't pussyfoot around the fact that I had disappeared for two weeks. I'm apologizing wholeheartedly right now for that. I was in NYC for Fashion Week for work and was dealing with such a frenzy of responsibilities, I barely had time to eat or sleep. Don't worry. I spent most nights right before bed ashamed at my lack of blogging. Mental wrist slaps the entire time I was there.

So, this happened.
But, like all workaholics who are weak against air travel (screaming restless children, a middle seat, no sleep, and broken in-flight wifi, anyone?) and never get as much sleep as they'd like, I ended up catching the black plague while at the tents, leaving me in a near-death-like state for a few days. Yay, fashion?

So, now, I will try my best to delight you with a few things I picked up in the last two weeks while I was away! Ready?

Wear Whatever You Want...But Own It

Fashion Week, season after season, in the big apple is filled with all kinds of sartorial wonders. Men in evening gowns, children in couture, a sea of designer duds with swells of adventurous hair & accessories. Women teetering on shoes with heels taller than most woodland creatures, carrying everything from pillbox purses to bags that could double as treehouses.

Add a few unicycles and an elephant and it would be like watching a less flexible, slightly less dangerous (newsflash: high heels & twisted ankles DO happen), and much more fashionable Cirque du Soleil production.

Your eyes will feast, your wallet will cry, and your feet will ache.

But, really, the thing that made my head turn most was confidence. Didn't see that one coming, did you? Ok, maybe you did. Whatever. (You must be all, "how much can this person talk about confidence?" Answer: a sh*t ton.) The moral of the story is: own it & you are fashionable.

Not Designer? No Worries.

You don't need to be wearing designer to be noticed. What makes me say this?
I actually got photographed a bunch. (This is not a brag. I actually found it slightly unsettling...except for when Italian Vogue took a photo of me...that is a brag.)

And what was I wearing on those days? What I always wear. Nothing super expensive, nothing over-the-top. Just things I like wearing and I'm comfortable in without looking like someone discovered me in between some couch pillows. (Which is how I look when I'm sick. More on this later.)

You should've seen the folk's faces when they asked me who made my shirt or shoes. Names of brands that you can find most anywhere escaped my lips and looks of confusion ensued.

Then someone asked me if I was Monika Chiang. (She's a designer.)
I laughed, thanked them for mistaking me for another Asian female and made my way back into the tents. Maybe I should've said yes just to make a point. (POINT: Not all Asians look the same. I look nothing like Monika Chiang.) She looks like Asian Jessica Biel...has anyone else noticed that?

Street Style Photogs Love...

You too can get photographed during fashion week! I found out the secret!
If you are a woman, wear menswear. If you are a man, wear womenswear.

Mama Matsuo did not steer me wrong! (Steer...get it? Like a ship?) I went nautical as is my general inclination. (See my post Mama Matsuo Musing #3: "Ship" Shape for more details) and the photogs, they came a'runnin'! Navy & white stripes, shorts, and caramel brogue shoes are the pied piper of street photographers.

Additionally, if you do menswear with a feminine edge, they basically die of happiness.

High-waisted black shorts, black suspenders, a plain white t-shirt, my trusty black hat, and black platform shoes. It was my look of the season! With a dash of bright, red lipstick! I must say, I was actually pretty proud of that outfit.

Also, cool hair helps. I was lucky enough to get all kinds of fun hairstyles during the week thanks to my stylists friends at the TRESemmé salon/lounge. (Free dry styling, people! It's awesome. And my fav stylists, Tyler, Jamál, and Katy were there!)

Retro w/ Tyler
Crimped w/ Jamál
Sleek w/ Katy
Guess What Models Do?

This just in! Models totally eat lots of food and are super friendly. They have the ability to smile and are some of the most gracious bunch of people you'll meet during the week.

I'm sick of women getting all catty with models. "Someone give this girl a sandwich" and all that. These girls stuff their faces backstage and I don't see them running to a nearby bathroom to get rid of it afterwards either. On the whole, I won't say I see them puttin' away the cheeseburgers and fries, but they don't shy away from bread or cheese. They take large mouthfuls while they get their hair done between shows and if you do something for them, they always say thank you.

And a lot of them are really young. So, stop picking on them. They can't help that they're gorgeous.
Your level of hatred should never be based on the diameter of someone's thighs, but the blackness of their heart. (Dramatic, right?)

Black (Plague) Beauty

Right, so I got really sick near the end of the week and was banished to a hotel bed with no one to take care of me. I spent my time restlessly tossing & turning, sweating from fever, too migrainey to be able to look at a computer screen or watch television...or have the blinds open, and too nauseous to eat much of anything.

In other words, a total blast!

Can someone say "P-A-R-T-Y"?
I will say that there are perks to being sick. I do things I generally don't do...that I should do, like:
  • Not wear make-up: Here's the thing. I'm kind of old school in a lot of ways. You'll almost never catch me without some make-up on. It's not to say that I pack it on like a Halloween mask or anything, but I reserve the right of blinding (or, in this case, turning to stone) only a handful of people in my life with my Medusa-like face...which is what happens when I take my make-up off...I turn into Medusa. Duh. (This just in: I totally have body dysmorphia and think I look like a piece of dough with two holes poked in it when I don't have make-up on. My husband thinks I'm silly.) My husband seems to be immune to the snakes on my head.
  • Sweating it out: Two things that go well together are not wearing make-up and sweating profusely. Though I was near death with fever, once I started sweating it out (thanks, Advil!), not only did my temperature begin dropping, but my pores began clearing as well! This makes me think I should probably go back to Bikram yoga at some point.
  • Drinking water: So, uh, yeah. I'm really bad at doing this usually...but for some reason when I'm sick and basically burning up, water seems like the best idea in the world and I sit and drink tons of it either plain or as chamomile tea. (I know. Dehydrating fever & water. I'm a genius.) Needless to say, despite actually being sick, when I'm ill, my skin looks great. It's just that whole not being able to stand or function part that gets me.
  • Sleeping: I'm definitely not one of those people who sleeps for 8+ hours a night. I'm lucky to get 6 hours. I work New York hours (I'm in starts for me at 6:30am) and I have a husband I like hanging out with who usually doesn't even get near the bed till midnight...So, I either have to choose between hanging out with my husband or sleep...and I almost always choose the former. (Best wife award goes to me.) Anyway, I think I slept in 10 hour stretches while I was ill those few days. It was kind of phenomenal!
So, yes, I did some good things while I was sick for myself...which leads me to the very last point of my post...

The Perks of Bronchial Stress

What's a good thing to do when you have chest congestion, coughing and excruciating sinus pain? When you're so feverish, you can't move. So achey, it hurts to breathe. So nauseous, the smell or taste of anything other than water or crackers could send you over the edge?


Yep, that's right. Not really by choice, I ended up leaving my pack of cigarettes untouched. I even left the pack in the hotel room the day I checked out. The thought of smoking made my stomach turn and my lungs, I figured this would be as good a time as any to kick the habit.

Today marks 1 week since I quit...I'm hoping it's for real this time.
I quit for one year once...and it all fell apart when I went to Paris. So, basically, I just need to stay out of Paris and keep myself incredibly busy. That should do the trick! Wish me luck!

...And that's it, folks! I tried my best to give you a wrap-up of what happened while I was gone. I'm still a little under the weather, but Fashion Week was a good time, nonetheless.

Oh, and I totally met P'Trique! It was #TotesAmaze and absolutely the highlight of my entire week. If you don't know P'Trique, you need to check out "Sh*t Fashion Girls Say" right now...and also "Sh*t Fashion Girls Say Part Two"...because...well, you need to.

...and, for this post "Sh*t Fashion Girls New York Fashion Week!" Obvi.

And, that is how you end a post! xo!


  1. Hey Nami,

    Catia here your former r-pac coworker. Ran across your blog. Love your eloquence and insightful thoughts.

    Especially love: "Your level of hatred should never be based on the diameter of someone's thighs, but the blackness of their heart." Totally agree!


    1. Catia!!!

      How are you? Man, it's been...I don't even know how long. FOREVER, basically!
      Thanks for the kind words and taking the time to even give my blog a read. (So many blogs out there, so little time.)

      As for hatred & thigh-diameter, I hear it way too often.
      I just women would be strong for each other instead of being catty & mean. Gives us ladies a bad reputation.

      Hope you're doing well and hope the blog can continue to entertain you!