Bottomless Brunches and Baseball

It’s been a while since I’ve written a blog post. Things have been surprisingly slow around here but in a fast kind of way. The saying “hurry up and wait” didn’t make any sense to me until I started this job, but working in the fashion industry has helped me understand it. I’m either working 12 hour days and walking nine or ten miles running errands, or I’m sitting in the office doing computer/logistical work for the upcoming days where I’ll be working the 12 hour days and walking nine or ten miles running errands. I can’t really tell you which I like more, since it kind of depends on the day, but it’s been really nice to have a little bit of a lull in activity at my halfway point of the summer.

Y’all (yes, I surprisingly still say y’all even after living in New York City for six weeks). Yes, you read that correctly. My summer in the City is halfway over. Over halfway over, actually. I have exactly 33 days left here. How did that happen? It’s flown by, but it’s also dragged on. While part of me loves my life here, another part of me can’t wait to get back to life in Dallas. But, I’m listening to the wise words of my dear mother, and doing my best to not wish my life away. I’m trying to live each day to the fullest and take it all in (even when I’m only steaming clothes and making coffee runs).

The weekend before the Fourth of July was one of my favorite weekends I’ve had so far, since Kade came! Yay! He got in on Friday night, and we had great plans to hit the town running. Of course, we were quickly reminded of the saying “If you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans,” since not two minutes after leaving the apartment, I stepped down wrong on the stairs, broke my shoe and fell head first down the entire flight. Aside from some severe bruising on my knees, legs, hips, arms and elbows, I was ok, but we decided that it’d be best to sit the night out. We drank wine and watched The Incredibles, instead. A fine alternative, in my book.

The next day we acted like tourists, having brunch at Parker and Quinn near Times Square. Mediocre drinks, but great food. We then walked in and out of random dives and bars before deciding to go to Rockefeller Center. When we got there, we decided to head all the way to the top to get the best view of the City, and it surely didn’t disappoint. We had dinner at The Smith, where they served us hot, bubbling, out-of-the-oven mac ‘n cheese that filled our calorie quota for the year, fried calamari, and a great burger and salad. The takeaway? Don’t order one of everything on the menu if you plan to go out afterward because you’ll be too tired.

Sunday came along, and we went to brunch. Again. If you’re surprised, you’re clearly not friends with us. Bottomless brunches remain one of our favorite couple-y activities, even in a city other than Dallas. We switched off between mimosas and bellinis, and took full advantage of the hour for which we had unlimited drinks. Then we made our way down to East Village where we had a reservation for lunch. (I swear, all we did was eat and drink.) We ducked into Frank’s, a classic, well-known Italian restaurant, and ordered two pasta dishes that we really weren’t hungry for since we finished brunch approximately three hours before. Oh well. We had plenty for leftovers.

Monday we went to the Met Museum with every other tourist in the City. It was packed, but I feel extra cultured after staring at various paintings and sculptures for nearly two hours. If you can’t tell, museums aren’t my favorite things in the world, but I did enjoy several exhibits, my favorite being Degas’ Little Dancer sculpture, that came highly recommended by my fabulous, art-loving roomie, Kate.

Of course, we worked up an appetite looking at all that art (it’s more work than you’d think, people), and just decided to walk until we found a place that looked appealing, and we found a hidden gem. It’s called Mel’s Burger Bar, and they outdid themselves with a bottomless brunch that wasn’t just one or two hours, but three. We had burgers (duh), sipped on more mimosas and chatted with our amazing waitress, Sydney. Then we had a competition to see who could swing the silver ring and get it on the hook on the wall the quickest. Kade demolished me, although I did manage to do it twice (and he even got it on video!).

More on the food adventures of Morgan and Kade. That night we went to The Press Lounge, a shwanky rooftop bar that overlooks the Hudson River with great views of the City’s skyline. (Pro tip: pregame this place because drinks are obscenely expensive.) Then we went to West Side Steakhouse and shared a T-bone steak, mushrooms and mashed potatoes, with a great bottle of wine. It was the perfect last night date night for us.

Sadly, on the actual Fourth, Kade had to head back to Dallas for his adulting responsibilities, but having him in the City provided for some great memory-making and exploring, like always.

This past weekend, I went to my very first Yankees game. While I’m convinced that most of my baseball-loving friends and family now want to disown me for buying a jersey, Maggie, Lauren and I had a great time. We feasted on ballpark hotdogs and french fries, took Instagram-worthy photos, and even learned a thing or two about baseball. I think my dad would be proud if he knew that.

Speaking of my dad, I’m especially excited for this upcoming week to go by quickly, since my parents will be here on Thursday! Updates from adventures with Dennis and Julie to come.

xx

 

Subway Slowdowns

I was in a foul mood yesterday. A really foul mood.

At around 3:30 p.m., I received a text from my mom. Her message was frantic, asking if I was ok. Puzzled, I responded. I had just stepped off set to grab some coffee for our team. She told me that a subway had been derailed in the City, and she needed to know that I was safe and sound. I told her that I was, and proceeded to search “NYC Subway Derailment.” Sure enough, various news stories popped up detailing the incident. It occurred at 125th Street, just north of where I live, and as a result, every subway line had been shut down.

Needless to say, I quickly realized that not just the subways were messed up, but every other mode of transportation, as well. And I don’t just mean messed up, I mean really and truly f$*%ed up. The City tried to help by implementing a free bus service, but the lines went on for hours, and it seemed to back up vehicular traffic even more. The last time I checked, the price of an Uber from Chelsea, where I work, to my home on the Upper West Side, hovered around $86.

Ugh ugh ugh; the only emotion(?) that ran through my mind. I had dinner plans with good friends yesterday evening, friends I really looked forward to seeing. We were going to eat and chat and drink wine. Then, I planned to swing by a few shops and run a few errands before heading home to Bubba for our nightly Modern Family marathon.

My plans were ruined, all thanks to the New York City MTA.

I’m sure this has become your least favorite blog post quite quickly. Up to this point, I’ve done nothing but bitch and moan. All I’ve done is think about myself. All I’ve done is feel sorry for myself.

But, in the midst of checking for subway updates and waiting for Uber prices to drop just the smallest fraction, I looked out the window and saw One World Trade. The mere sight of the building stopped me dead in my tracks. It was one of those God-given moments; the sun reflected off of the structure’s mirrored sides. The clouds floated behind it slowly. All I could do was stare at it.

All I could think about were the people whose memory lives on in that building.

I thought about the thousands of people who went to work on 9/11 and never returned home. Their lives taken so quickly, so unfairly. I thought about their families who had to suddenly deal with a gaping hole in their lives and in their hearts. But I also thought about the people, though few, who didn’t get to work that day, and are alive today because of those reasons: a child with a fever, an errand to run, a wreck on the highway, a broken stoplight. For some, those seemingly insignificant excuses are why they’re still here. Some mothers and fathers still get to spend time with their children because they got caught in traffic. Some employees get to continue doing what they love because their car broke down.

I thought about all of this while I had a mental meltdown about not being able to get home and do fun things yesterday night. While it seemed unfortunate at the time, it ended up being exactly what I needed; it gave me time to think. It made me slow down and even if only for a moment, made me appreciate life just a tad bit more. I quickly said a prayer and counted my blessings. I wasn’t on that derailed subway fearing for my life.

I was exactly where I needed to be.

 

Sweet Home Dallas, Texas

A few weeks back, I decided an impromptu visit back to Dallas might be necessary to help me re-center myself. Not that New York has made me wild or crazy or unleashed, but it’s always nice to venture back to home-base to remind yourself what you’ve got, where you’ve come from, and what you’re returning to.

I worked a half day on Friday. I never thought that working 8:00 a.m. to noon would thrill me so much in my life. We shot Zanna’s June E! News segment, easily the coolest thing I’ve yet to do in New York. We set up set (wow, that sounded bad) at the Marmara Hotel on Park Avenue (I felt like royalty for approximately four hours), and because Kate had to finish up the Target shoot, I was completely on my own with Zanna and the camera crew from E!. Basically, while Zanna sat in hair and makeup, she left me responsible for completely readying wardrobe — laying out all of the clothes, shoes and accessories for the prospective outfits, fitting the models and changing them in and out of different getups and shuttling them to and from set. Normally, Kate takes care of these things, or at least directs me, but on Friday I was completely on my own.

Blessings to whatever God you people believe in, because it went flawlessly, and I’ve never felt so fulfilled.

At noon, I packed up the set and called an Uber to La Guardia, aka the world’s worst airport. I think from the door of the hotel to the departure gate, it only took an hour, tops. I arrived absurdly early (a trait I learned from my dad), and put myself on the stand-by list for the earlier flight to the Big D. As fate would have it, I got on the earlier flight, sat in a quite roomy middle seat (thanks American!) and watched two and a half movies on the way down to good ol’ Texas.

My amazing roommate Kate picked me up at the airport. She came with sweet Hannah who’s subleasing my room for the summer. I wish I had the words to explain how much I enjoyed spending time with them and scaring Hannah half out of the backseat with my driving. (Remember, people, it’s been nearly a month since I sat behind the wheel of a car. If you thought my driving was bad before, you have no idea.) We got changed for dinner and headed over to Bandito’s, the local SMU hotspot for mediocre Mexican food. We wined margarita’ed and dined until about 8:00, when we decided to head back to our place to surprise Kade.

Oh, yeah. Kade had absolutely zero clue I was in Dallas until I popped out of the bedroom door and surprised the hell out of him. It humbled me and nearly made me cry to see how over the moon he was to see me. I couldn’t have pulled it off without our friend Declan, who coordinated with me for about two weeks to get everything in position. We got to spend Friday night catching up with friends and drinking, the best combination out there.

On Saturday we went to brunch (it’s the most intense event of the weekend in Texas) at Breadwinner’s Cafe with friends. We drank mimosas and talked and drank more mimosas. After that we spent the rest of the day watching Netflix until dinner at HG Sply Co, a great spot on lower Greenville for a meal highlighting locally grown ingredients. I can’t tell you how nice it was to have a date night after being without one for nearly a month.

Sunday came around and we got brunch with friends at our favorite place, the Old Monk. It was eventful, of course, as all Morgan and Kade adventures are. We accidentally stole a family’s table (on Father’s Day, I might add), and also accidentally drank two carafes of mimosas! (Not sure how we accidentally did that, but I’m going with it.)

Like all good things, the weekend came to an end. I arrived at the airport around 5:00 p.m. to head back to the Big City. From touch-down to take-off, I spent 48 hours on the ground in D-Town. A quick trip, by definition, but it filled my heart with so much love and joy to see my favorite people.

I had time to reflect and post this on the way back east. I thought about the laughs and happiness shared by everyone this past weekend. I thought about the look of shock on Kade’s face when I snuck out from around the corner. I thought about a lot of things, but one of those thoughts really stuck with me: Dallas is my home, and it will always be there.

Back to New York I am. This week we’re shooting for *SURPRISE!* Target. Again. We switched up studios, though, and have relocated to Pier 59. (You’ll recognize that name from my favorite job-movie reference, The Devil Wears Prada.) It’s beautiful with big bay windows, lots of natural light and incredible views of the boats on the Hudson.

 

Updates to come at the end of the week.

xx

The City That (Quite Literally) Never Sleeps

I went out on the town for the first time on Friday night. New York City nightlife can’t really be compared to anything else; it’s an animal of it’s own, and before I left for the evening, I wasn’t really sure I’d be able to handle it. At the start of the week, I’d made plans to celebrate a friend’s 21st birthday, but my exhaustion from a 50-hour work week made the festivities seem unappealing. Nevertheless, around 8:00 p.m., I began getting ready and rolled up to the bars around 9:30 intrigued to see what the next few hours had in store for me.

We went to Refinery Rooftop on 38th Street in the heart of midtown. My Uber driver, after finding out I had only been in the City for two weeks, drove me through Times Square to get there, wanting to make sure I had “the proper escort.” Hm. Not sure that I would call it a proper anything considering I was in the back of a 2009 Toyota Camry with seat belts that barely buckled, but hey, the view from inside the vehicle didn’t disappoint. The contrast of the brilliantly lit billboards and signs and screens against the dark night sky made me feel ~semi~ famous for approximately three and a half seconds.

I got out of the limo car (that, after thinking about it, smelled like the inside of a Home Depot), and walked up to the front entrance. I didn’t realize that the bar was on the rooftop of a hotel (duh, Morgan, it’s called Refinery Rooftop), but I knew that the evening held great things when I walked through the shwanky hotel lobby decorated in expensive furniture and ornamentation. They even had a man who escorted you onto the elevator, pushed the buttons and rode all the way up with you.

God, I felt fancy AF.

Ha. If only the status of my bank account matched the rest of the evening. I went to the bar, ordered a Moscow Mule for myself and a tequila shot for the Birthday Boy. The grand total on that?

$35. THIRTY FIVE DOLLARS.

Are these people kidding me? 

$35 for the mildest Moscow Mule I’ve ever had. (And that’s saying a lot, because Moscow Mules are my favorite/go-to drink.) It didn’t matter though. I delivered the shot to the Man of the Night and got a video of him taking it like a champ with the Empire State Building standing in the background. Pretty cool thing, if you ask me. The entire night we talked screamed at each other over the music. I met some really great people from Fairfield, Connecticut, and remained mesmerized by the view, refreshed by the night air and excited by the action going on all around me before heading home around 1:00 a.m. The night was so much better than I thought it would be.

 

On Sunday I resumed my household responsibilities. Nothing too exciting; I tidied up the apartment, did some laundry and made my bed (which takes a lot more effort than one would think, considering I sleep like an angry gorilla). My precious friend Becky came up to the City all the way from New Jersey. She got to see the apartment and give sweet kisses to Bubba before we ventured out to Columbus Avenue to look for a lunch spot. 
Hungry, we walked ten or so blocks before settling on the first place we saw: Gabriela’s Restaurant and Tequila Bar. I wish we had decided on some place else, because Gabriela served the most expensive and overrated Mexican food I’ve yet to have. It didn’t matter, though, because I had great company and great plans for the rest of the day. We walked to Central Park and strolled for probably an hour. We talked about our summers, our impending senior year and just how quickly life seemed to be going by. The talk, and Becky’s visit, in general, enlivened me and gave me an amazing feeling of home, something I haven’t felt since I moved here.

Today, we’re back on set shooting for Target. It’s going to be another week of the same old, same old, but also some brand new, brand new. I haven’t made any Tic-Tac runs or picked up any couture (yet), but I’m sure that’s bound to happen at some point this week. Most of my day has been spent steaming clothes, burning my hands while steaming said clothes and helping dress models, one of the coolest parts of my job.

I know that probably sounds weird, but each and every day on set, we have two or three new models from all over the world. Today, for example, we have one from London and one from France. Last week we had one from West Africa and another from Colombia. Spending time with them back in wardrobe let’s us hear their stories; how they became interested in modeling, how they finally signed with a major agency, their journey in the fashion industry, and so-on.

Today when talking to the model from London (I’m not sure if I should post their names here, yet), we talked about the intensity of the industry and the pressures that models and everyone involved face every day. The girl is stunning; probably 5’8 and around 135 pounds.

Which is why when she told me that she was a “plus-sized model,” my jaw about hit the white lacquer floor.

She told me that, for awhile, she tried to meet the measurements of “straight-size” models and compete with other girls who lead rather unhealthy lives. She told me that at her thinnest, she weighed 110 pounds. She told me that she booked jobs and had a successful career.

But she also told me that the second she decided to switch to “plus,” her world turned technicolor. She said she felt alive again. She said she could genuinely laugh and smile again. She said she had never been happier or had more work in her life.

Most people don’t really understand the intensity of the fashion industry. I really didn’t before I got to New York and began this job. I knew that it was a multi-billion dollar industry, but I didn’t quite know the extent. I didn’t know that in 2011, New York City’s fashion industry ALONE was estimated to be worth $9 billion.

I also didn’t know what happened behind the facade of the fanciness and the flamboyance.

It’s a lot of traveling, hotel rooms, 13 hour days, working on weekends and not getting lunch breaks. It’s a lot of materialism that can so quickly take over your personal life. When you’re working from sun up to sun down, you don’t realize the connection you’re missing from those around you. Sure, you’re surrounded by probably 50 people a day, but you rarely discuss anything deeper than “what did you do this weekend?” Normally, you’re having conversations about which color pant goes best with which color jacket and whether a loafer or a pump would look better with the outfit you’re styling.

The pressures are intense and the days are long, but ultimately, at this point in my life, I’m cut out for it. I enjoy it. Maybe not enough to picture myself in the industry past the end of the summer, but I enjoy it. It’s a learning experience for me, and I’m really just getting started.

Updates to come.

xx

Big City Bustlin’

It’s a significant adjustment moving to a city like New York. It makes you feel like you’re constantly in fast forward; rushing to catch a subway, trying to beat the rush hour traffic for an Uber before the surge starts, racing in and out of crowds of people who push and shove their way through crosswalks.

Truthfully, it’s exhausting. And working 10 hour days on top of that just adds to the fatigue.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my job, my apartment, my bosses, my coworkers and especially the strangers who offer up a smile during my morning and evening commute. But living in the City has been isolating at times. While I have friends here, they live in lower Manhattan, which, on a good day, is about a 45 minute commute from my humble abode. While I’m used to living *semi* on my own, it’s completely different being in an unstructured environment, expected to commute alone, live alone, eat alone, and a lot of the times, work alone. I work alongside my bosses and the other intern, Maggie, but often our job consists of running errands here and there, only perpetuating the never-sitting-busyness of my life here. It only furthers the seclusion.

But, enough of my inner monologue. You’re not here to read my diary. Or maybe you are? I don’t care what your intentions are as long as you’re reading words I’ve written. New York hasn’t been all bad. In fact, it’s been mostly good, a little bit ok and the slightest bit shitty. But, there’s the slightest bit of shitty in every place, every activity and every person, so it’s unfair to put it all on the Big Apple.

I’m going to put my Mahatma Ghandi away, now. Where did that even come from?

Anyway. On Saturday some friends and I went and explored Williamsburg, a neighborhood in Brooklyn. You know, the borough of New York just across the East River from Manhattan.  The place where Dan Humphrey lives.

Oh, speaking of Dan Humphrey, we hadn’t taken two steps out of the subway tunnel when I turned to my left and THERE PENN BADGLEY WAS, DESCENDING THE CEMENT STAIRCASE NEXT TO ME.

He was so close I could have touched him.

I cried. Real tears. Real, hysterical tears.

I controlled my fan girl the absolute most I could, though, and didn’t follow him onto his train so I could ask for a picture. But I can’t say it wasn’t tempting. It didn’t matter what else what happened the rest of the day, I couldn’t have been happier than I was in that very moment. 

But, it only got better! We went to Smorgasburg (these people must think they’re so funny), a massive outdoor food market that houses 100 local street food vendors every weekend from April to October. With every kind of cuisine you could imagine, we wandered around for a good half hour before settling on the absolute lamest thing wecould: french fries. And, to be honest, they were not the best french fries I’ve ever hard, which they should have been, considering they were $9 and we waited probably 25 minutes for them. Disappointed, we ate them anyway, instantly regretting not trying something more authentic and exotic like the Spaghetti Donut, the Ramen Burger, or the Indian-inspired duck wings.

We took pictures near the waterfront and basked in the view, and then decided to explore a bit more before heading back to Manhattan. We weaved in and out of little markets that had vendors selling everything from socks to

graphic tees and hats to posters. We considered going back to the park for some ice cream, but considering our lunch consisted of a basket of fried potatoes, we decided it might be best to head back to the City.

Sunday I worked. Only for a few hours,but I worked. We switched up our studios this week for the next Target shoot, and landed at JACK, the most gorgeous, all white locale overlooking the Hudson River. At least we had something to look at while unpacking approximately 60 more boxes of clothes, shoes and accessories.

Unfortunately, that’s all I can really tell you about the shoot this week, since we basically had to sign a contract saying that nothing done on set could be photographed, talked about, video recorded or written about. Sorry, folks.

While the majority of my week consisted of helping out on set, I ran my usually unusual errands. On Monday, the night of the CFDAs, I was busy running around town getting Zanna’s potential dresses for the red carpet. Valentino became my favorite one quickly, since I got to sit on a couch where they offered me champagne while I waited.

On Tuesday, aka the day after the CFDAs, the main task on hand was returning the leant out dresses. I learned the proper process for calling places about pick ups and how to go about labeling the garment backs and how to log the returns correctly.

Then I headed to Gucci. Gucci on Fifth Avenue. uGh!!!!! — was my first thought when walking through the door. The carpets were red velvet, the walls looked to be a blush faux leather, studded at the baseboard with silver buttons. The cases against the walls and in the middle of the room made the place look like a damn shrine honoring one of the world’s greatest people. But, lo and behold, it was just for handbags. And sunglasses. And shoes. Expensive handbags, sunglasses and shoes, no less. I felt like a peasant when I walked in, dressed in my jeans and a t-shirt, there to only return a pair of shoes and then purchase a wallet for my boss (bet that part of the sentence made my mom and dad reeeaaaalll happy). After Gucci I went to ALDO and Steve Madden (thank God these were two stores I could actually afford to set foot in) to pick up a few more pairs of shoes (because honestly, no woman can ever have enough shoes) before heading back to the studio.

Last night I went to dinner with two of my best friends I met a few summers ago in Wyoming. We chatted over pretty mediocre sushi and red wine, and reminisced about how different our summers were going to be now that we were almost “grown ups.” Yikes, even typing those two words together makes me feel a little queasy. Today, I’ve already made a run for wrapping paper and white Tic-Tacs, Zanna’s fav.

The weekend is quickly approaching (thank goodness), and I’m not sure what my plans are yet. I’m thinking of exploring SoHo and Little Italy with the aforementioned friends. If you have any suggestions of things to do, things to see or things to eat, let me know!

Updates to come.

xx

Weekend Wonderland

It’s been one hell of a week in the Big Apple. While the glitz and the glamour remains, the sweat and exhaustion has set in, and I’m finally getting a moment to sit down and reflect on the past six days of my life. Six days doesn’t sound like much, but when you combine moving to a major city halfway across the country, starting a new job and working 50 hours in four days, and not knowing anyone except for your new roommate (whom you love), your boss and the man who’s delivered your Chinese food, it’s a lot to handle.

On Wednesday my boss Kate stationed me at Milk Studios on 14th Street. It’s the headquarters for all things photography, fashion, makeup, production and event planning. I sat at a long table in the makeup studio, waiting for emails from Kate to detail my daily duties. It was quiet for an hour…ya know, “too quiet.” And then, around 10:00, my inbox began pinging.

The first message I received said nothing more than, “Boom Boom Room 6 pm 3 people.”

Unsure of whether or not this was some secret code for a classified mission I was about to embark on, I began researching. I think my Google search said something along the lines of, “What the hell is a boom boom room?”

Lo and behold, boom boom room is not a general term for what I thought it might be. Instead, it’s the “street name” for an exclusive bar/club/restaurant in the City. Easy enough, I thought, I’ll call and get a reservation.

Haha, oh Morgan, so naive.

The number I first called connected me to The Standard, a high-end hotel located in the Meatpacking District. Didn’t seem right, so I asked if they knew anything about a place called “The Boom Boom Room.” I’m convinced the woman on the other end of the line thought I needed to be medicated, as she reluctantly transferred me to the concierge. When I told him my needs, he said, “You know that’s not the actual name of the venue, right?”

The Top of the Standard (aka the Boom Boom Room), NYC. 

I wanted to say, “No, sir, I didn’t actually know that as I’m just an intern, and I’m trying to make a reservation for my boss who is quite famous, and I’m worried that if I don’t do this right I’ll be fired on my second day of work.”

Instead, I asked what the formal name was, and when he said “The Top of the Standard,” I just kind of went for it, booking a table for three people for 6:00 p.m., just like she told me.

After Zanna’s Thursday night libation reservation was taken care of, I decided that my 30 minutes of strenuous phone calling and researching boom-booming had warranted me a nice stroll to Chelsea Market for lunch. I went with a Milk Makeup intern named Emily who showed me the ropes. She helped me weave in and out of tourists and locals past delis, cheeseries (I don’t think that’s a word, but it should be) and chocolatiers until we stumbled upon Hale and Hearty, a quaint hole-in-the-wall eatery that housed both a salad and sandwich bar. I went to the counter, ordered, and just about hugged the nice woman behind the counter who said that neither chicken OR avocado were extra (NYC is expensive, ok?). She even let me sample a few of their dressings.

The salad did not disappoint, and when I returned to my desk table where the interns get to sit sometimes if nothing more important is going on, I had an email from Kate telling me about my next task.

For those of you who don’t know (or pretty much for anyone who doesn’t religiously follow the world of fashion), the CFDA Awards are this upcoming Monday.

The whats?

The CFDAs. You know, the Council of Fashion Designers of America. Duh.

To put it into simpler terms, the awards are basically the Grammys for fashion designers. Think: red carpet, paparazzi, A-list celebrities and millions of dollars worth of couture.

Because Zanna is such a she-boss, she’s hosting the red carpet segment of the show for the second consecutive year. To help her out, Kate assigned me some research on the designers and celebrities in attendance of the event. I got the list of designers nominated for the individual awards and made a spread sheet on each one of them, complete with pictures of them and their designs. After the designers were complete, I moved on to honorees and then commenced with celebrities that would be in attendance.

That did it for Wednesday. Thursday I found myself back at ROOT shooting for Target. It was easily the longest and hardest day of the week for Kate, Zanna and I. Trying to fit models for Fridays shoot while simultaneously shooting that day’s looks doesn’t sound complicated, but put three hair stylists, one make up artist, four models, one seamstress, two stylists, three client reps and one intern in a relatively small space, and you get one thing: mass chaos.

Watching my first ever real-life photo shoot was not anything short of amazing. As a lifelong fan of America’s Next Top Model (lol), the loud music, high energy, shouting and clapping wowed me. The models were beautiful and so seasoned and impressive. The clients sat behind the scenes critiquing photos and picking out their favorites. Hair and makeup and wardrobe scurried on and off set making minute modifications when needed.

We shot 21 looks that day, and just as I was about to leave to head for the subway, Kate ran after me, asking if I could help her with something. I complied, and I’m so glad I did. She needed me to run a bag of things to Zanna’s apartment to help her out, and as a reward, she offered to get me an Uber there and then another one home. I felt like the real deal; almost as if I was delivering “The Book” to Miranda’s.

How I thought I looked delivering things to the apartment.

How I actually looked delivering things to the apartment.

I got home around 8:00 that night, my feet so swollen I could hardly get my shoes off. I fell asleep with the light off and slept that way completely through the night.

Friday was the final day of this week’s Target shoot. The concept of the day was identical to that of Thursday. We arrived on set at 9:00, got the models into hair and makeup around 10:30, and then wardrobe around 12:30. We began shooting around 1:00 and didn’t wrap up until 6:30, when the hardest part of our job started — tagging all of the clothes and packing up the entire set and wardrobe. Those fifty boxes I unpacked on Tuesday? They all had to get sorted out, packed back up, taped and shipped back off to headquarters.

We celebrated the end of an amazing week of shooting by popping open a bottle of Veuve Clicquot. The best news? There’s another Target shoot next week.

Today, I’m venturing out into the City with a good friend, one I haven’t seen in over a year, and later tonight I’m meeting up with a few SMU friends for dinner.

Updates to come.

xx

First Day of Work!

I really hope you read that title in the voice from Finding Nemo, because I wrote it with those intentions.

My first day of work helped me settle in to living in The City. While I remained nervous on my morning subway commute, I had relatively no difficulty finding the studio where my boss asked me to meet her. (For those who know me, this should come as the most shocking news ever since Brangelina split in September of this year.)

Wait, did that shock anyone?

Anyway. I arrived to ROOT Studios at 8:45 a.m., knowing very little about my first day on the job. I checked in with the receptionist, told him my name and proudly boasted that I was the new intern for Zanna Rassi. He looked puzzled, and then said, “Ah. You must be here for the Target shoot.”

Target. Yes, Target. The second-largest discount retailer in the U.S. with just over 1,800 stores. My first day of work would be working on the set of a photo shoot for a major national company; one I frequent more often than I should admit.

My life became a real-world The Devil Wear’s Prada case-scenario really quickly.

Once on set, I unpacked roughly 50 boxes filled to the brim with Mossimo, Xhilaration and Ava and Viv, Target’s new plus-size line. I organized the racks of clothing, stacked shoes upon shoes onto shelves and arranged close to 100 different bags so all could be visible for the stylists.

Then I met Zanna, and oh boy, is she cool. She rocked a denim jumpsuit. Yes, you read that right, a denim jumpsuit, kind of like this one, complete with Stan Smith Adidas Superstars on her feet. I immediately felt like Andy Sachs pre-makeover — out of style, out of place, and wanting to get the hell out of dodge to go burn my entire wardrobe and start completely over. Nevertheless, I stayed and ran around set, mind-blown at how she could take random pieces of clothing and transform them into a fashion-forward super stylish ensemble.

Then Target came in. Their national brand reps who needed to check off the work that we’d Zanna had done. They mixed and matched various items and added accessories and shoes. They scribed jottings into a packet nearly an inch thick, noting the changes that needed to be made and the things that needed to be bought.

Then they sent me to Manhattan Wardrobe Supply to pick up a mysterious white bag (still not sure what was in here), and when I came back, ROOT had provided us with “box lunches” from Sugarfish, an upscale sushi eatery. The display was easily one of the coolest things I’d seen in awhile, complete with eight pieces of assorted sashimi, two sushi rolls, tuna tartare, edamame, and four different sauces including variations of ponzu and soy.

WoW. That’s about all I can say without craving one at 11:00 a.m.

We finished up the day with a grand tour of Milk Studios, just three blocks from ROOT and right across the street from Chelsea Market. Not only did I get to enjoy the walk over, passing by Google’s New York Office, I also got to see the makeup studio and meet a few other interns working in different departments.

As if my day wasn’t great enough, I even “mastered” my subway route, switching from A to C.

Pretty cool shit, if you ask me.

Ramen noodles will suffice for dinner, since I’m exhausted and ready to get out of the humidity. I know Bubba will be ready for some sweet snuggles and an early bedtime.

Can’t wait to see what tomorrow has in store for me.

Memorial Day Madness

It’s my first real post on Morgan in Manhattan because it’s my first real day living in The City. Gosh, I feel like a New Yorker already. I woke up this morning ready to take on the world. I had an agenda: explore the subway system, find my starting point for my first day of work tomorrow and run a few errands to Home Goods and Duane Reade to pick up some necessities I left behind in Dallas. I dressed in all black lululemon (Who’s surprised? Hopefully nobody.) and took off toward the subway entrance that’s only a block away from my apartment.

I felt like a fish out of water the minute I went underground. My brain battled with two ideas: Should I try and figure out how to use the contraption to the left to buy my unlimited monthly metro card or should I risk embarrassing myself by asking the attendant at the window? Reluctantly, I began punching buttons on the machine, and it eventually spit out a flimsy papery-plastic metro card.

I scanned it and got onto the platform through some gates similar to the ones they have
at Disney World.

This wasn’t nearly as fun as Disney World, though.

My first experience riding the subway can be described only as hellish and intimidating, consisting of two men attempting to pry my address and contact information out of me with another man talking to himself, swearing he had plans to blow up the subway and shoot everyone in sight.

Needless to say I ran off that subterranean metal tube faster than I’ve ever run before (which isn’t really saying much, because I’m not what one would call a runner).

After that, I found myself walking in the drizzling rain, questioning whether or not I had made the right decision by moving to New York. It’s big, busy and intimidated. The people, while nice, don’t speak with southern accents or care to offer up a smile when you make eye contact with them.

But, as I turned onto 61st Street and headed toward Lincoln Square, I looked at the skyline and reminded myself why I moved here in the first place. I love The City, I love to write and this summer is going to teach me so much about both of those things.
I walked up Columbus toward home, and after realizing that I hadn’t eaten all day, I ducked into a hole-in-the-wall shop for some lunch. With only 12 tables in the entire place, Francesco Pizza has gave me renewed hope in the form of carbs, cheese and Italian hospitality. I relished in the smell and the refuge it offered me after a hectic morning attempting to acclimate in The Big Apple. With a full stomach and a Diet Coke in hand, I ventured back to the apartment, ready to escape from the rain and settle in with my blog for the afternoon, feeling more comfortable by the minute.

Tomorrow, I’ll do it all again on my way to work (but hopefully without the excess encounters).