Before you start reading my today’s article, you should be aware that this one might contain a lot more criticism than everything that I’ve posted before. After having read it, you might even say that this is a text of some frustrated wannabe girl, and maybe that’s even right, but I still want to underline that what I’m writing is nothing more than my personal opinion and that I’m not trying to discredit anybody or anything. But mimosas should abstain.

It’s the climax of Paris Fashion Week and it feels as if people go crazier than the days before. Having received a last minute invitation to a runway show today, I was rather looking forward to it and I even got up unusually early for a Saturday, which means 11 am. The show was scheduled for 12:30 at Place de la Concorde, and although I wanted to be there earlier, I was running late because I hadn’t been able to decide what to wear earlier this morning and so I had to change at least three times before I was finally ready to leave my apartment. (The fact that I changed a several times probably seems unnecessary, but you will shortly see that it’s actually important for my story.)
I arrived at Concorde slightly after 12:30 and went straight to the building where the runway show took place. Unfortunately, the only impression I got from the show was an incredibly huge crowd. I’m still wondering how I managed to get in this place which was packed with people. I think there were about 200, maybe even 300 people in a room where only half of this number would have been comfortable. Of course, every single person was there on invitation and I should also add that it was more than just a few people who left before even trying to get in, just because of the sight of the enormous crowd who was already inside. Anyway, since I got up early just to go to that show, I was determined to stay and to get in, and so I did. And there were so many people. I’m really tall and I was also wearing heels, but still, I saw nothing except rows and rows of heads in this ocean of people. And it was a completely useless attempt only to try to get some pictures – the runway seemed to be way too far away and completely out of reach. I was lucky though. I was standing next to the DJ set and the music was great.
Since I was only able to catch a few glimpses on the models, I was mostly people watching, which was very enjoyable. There was a very particular crowd where any kind of character or style was represented. There were the nouveau riches with injected lips, who had just arrived from Monaco or Biarritz. Then there were people from Germany or Switzerland who were dressed in very casual sports trousers, wearing white trainers and looking as if they wanted to head to the gym right after the show. There were also girls who made it quite obvious that they wanted to become the next fashion icon; tourists who just stopped by right in the middle of their shopping tour in Paris and who had probably received their invitations by pure coincidence. And of course, there were bloggers, many, many of them. It’s funny that it didn’t strike me before, but when I was standing there, I suddenly realized how vain this whole fashion environment is. People don’t mind standing in line for I don’t know how long, just to find themselves in a packed full room where it’s almost impossible to breathe, hoping to catch a look at the latest collection by this or that designer. And that’s just the frustrating scenario you’re experiencing if you actually are lucky enough to get in. Still, people aren’t scared off by the prospect of being treated like animals in a slaughterhouse, because being to some exclusive place, even under the worst conditions, still feels like a great achievement. And in fact, everything that counts is being there and being seen, to the extent, that the actual runway show suddenly doesn’t seem important at all. The fact that runway shows usually aren’t longer than only twenty minutes doesn’t help there, either. The real show takes place when the runway is empty.

When I stepped out of the building, there was this very peculiar spectacle in front of me. All the bloggers gathered around, taking pictures of each other, complimenting each other on their extremely creative outfits. It seemed as if it’s not even about good taste or about any sense of fashion in general. What I saw today were people who would take pictures of anybody who didn’t look ordinary, in the good or in the bad way. If maybe I had walked around there in a bunny costume, they would have gone crazy just because this would be a non-conformist outfit, no matter if it has anything to do with fashion.
By the way, I’m pretty sure that it’s the behavior of this kind of people which creates all the fuzz about the Fashion Week, and I have to admit that I started to feel a little sad while I was watching this funny scene, which was nothing but a vanity fair where the event itself is pushed in the background while people try to draw attention to themselves, taking far too serious what they’re doing. But in my opinion, and contrary to the fuzz that turns the Fashion Week into a myth, this kind of circus is not what fashion is about. Fashion is not an absurd kind of self-marketing, but an art form which stays accessible in order to make your everyday life more enjoyable.
Still, I wanted to soak in more of the Fashion Week atmosphere, because here’s the crazy thing, all the artificiality and all the superficiality makes me throw up as much as it fascinates me and so I decided to walk through the Jardin des Tuileries.

It’s incredible, there’s no other event than the Fashion Week I can imagine which can first make you feel really bad, but one second later, it makes you feel great. Anyway, it happened to me when I was walking through the Jardin des Tuileries. Since most of the biggest runway shows take place over there, the place is full with photographers who are waiting for the celebrities (like Iggy Azalea and Anna Dello Russo, who also were there today) and models to come out after a show is finished. It’s the best place for people watching. So I was just walking around when suddenly, a girl stopped me and asked me if she could take a picture of me. I agreed, ready to continue my walk and people watching after that, but then more and more people wanted to take pictures of me as well until I had this huge crowd around me. I felt really weird and I was wondering if they knew that I was nobody who, in addition to that, was all dressed in H&M. But I guess that this is the thing about bloggers and about human nature in general: if you show a special interest in something or somebody, then you also suggest to other people that your object of interest must have something desirable, which, of course, makes it also appealing to others. By the way, that is exactly the reason why I decided not to take pictures of other bloggers, no matter how fashionable they are, because I find it highly annoying that, while having a look at a couple of different blogs, you see the same pictures. There’s nothing interesting about that. Even worse, the person, the outfit, whatever, loses its original charm because it suddenly becomes banal. All exclusiveness is taken away. So I’m sorry that I have no pictures at all of today’s events. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this text. As for me, I totally can say that I had a lot of fun during my five shallow minutes of fame!