It's another weekend, working on the show... Saturdays are always the most difficult to get out of bed and get moving because you know it's unnatural. Today is model casting, so it's even worse. You have to stare at fresh-faced, fat-free, teenagers while feeling exhausted and bloated. So I try to get dolled up and wear a cool dress and high heels. God forbid the cleaning lady should tell me my hair is a mess or give my outfit the once over, as she's known to do. Our casting agent is very low key; he never hurts anyone's feelings -- just nods and takes Polaroids. Casting day is the one day the cutters hate to miss, and all of the other men at my company for that matter. They all suddenly appear on my floor with some urgent matter to discuss amid the endless stream of models sashaying through my design room on a pretend catwalk. Aaahhhh this is why we do it, why we work so hard. It's all about feeling sexy. By the way I somehow managed, in my overtired stupor, to pull together an opulent magpie look, ala the show theme. I'm wearing a mini patchwork caftan in brightly colored Ikat, a super distressed elaborately embroidered vintage military jacket, two vintage Indian necklaces, and black fringe Gucci ankle boots. The models will love me...
Uugghhh, it's Sunday, and even harder to get up than Saturday. I made it halfway through the day yesterday in high heels. Today I have to be kind to my feet. I will wear my combat boots. At this point it's akin to battle anyway, trying to tame those last unruly blouses and come up with 4 more smashing looks that can wow the audience from the runway, woo the buyers in the showroom, and create desire in the dressing room. It's not easy, especially after another sleepless night. My daughter woke me up at 2 am to tell me she vomited "a tiny splash" on the bathroom floor. I stumbled in my semi-conscious state to the bathroom to find at least a gallon of vomit all over the floor. Of course she curled up and fell right back to sleep, but that put an end to any respite from my restlessness... So at 4 am I was sipping bourbon and sketching. Maybe it was a good thing that she woke me up. I did get a few ideas.
Ok, I'm almost out the door. Thank god for my obscenely expensive face cream. I try to measure how much is left in the bottle and wonder if the recession will be over before its time to replace it. Will I still have the budget for it? (Maybe the price will come down?) And then the reality of the recession really hits me. Will we even get to repeat all this next season? I'm in my Balenciaga gladiator sandals. Not quite a combat boot, but they have the same urban warrior effect...
Read Part One here.