it’s all blurred out: do the editor leg cross.
A month late on the fashion week wrap up and I’ve finally recovered.
This is New York City at its finest and most surreal, for sure. It’s a marathon of models, photographers, clothes, stylish people, and parties. From my work and friends, I have become increasingly lucky to be where it’s all happening.
This year I started the week off with a dream come true: an invite to Patrik Ervell.
He is my man when it comes to fashion. I was super stoked on the crazy wind tunnel runway:
The show left me in want of the entire collection (minus the rubber pants, though).
Did I mention I got to sit behind Kirsten Dunst? She was looking super chic.
I got to see all my favorite editors from Details and Esquire at the shows. Nic Screws did me the honor of tweeting a picture of me at the show for the Esquire Style twitter:
Thanks, Nic! You’re the best.
I got Facehunted outside the show. That was pretty rad. I was just sitting on this loading dock outside the show smoking and this guy who turned out to be Yvan Rodic started taking pictures of me. Those didn’t go up, but I’m that guy with the scarf on the left of this one. I have always loved his photos. So surreal:
Simon Spurr was beautiful with a palette of luxe grey:
My favorite style inspiration, Sebastian Valmont, made a cameo at the Timo Weiland presentation:
The kicks and pants were rad:
Calvin Klein was blinding:
Matthew Edelstein and I styled the Nautica presentation on Friday:
Spent a lot of time at Le Bain for Surface 2 Air, Jeremy Scott, etcetera etcetera. I ran into my good buddy, Jon, and crew:
Bye Fashion Week. See you again in August. New York life, homie.
(Title = lyrics from Salem’s Trapdoor. Patrik Ervell closed his show with it.)
