The fashion industry is an animal in and of itself —a wild, untamed beast that is as attractive as it is frightening. It’s complimentary and judgmental, rewarding and exhausting, and it prides itself on its hot and cold nature. I’m obsessed.
People always ask me the whys and hows of my dedication to the monster. Don’t I know what a hard industry it is to get into? Aren’t I aware that I may never be the next Diane Von Furstenberg or Anna Wintour? Didn’t I see The Devil Wears Prada? How could I want to be Andie Sacks?! The answer is yes, I know all of those things, but for me, this all-consuming love was never a question.
I met fashion earlier than your average kid, demanding to dress myself at a very early age. My mother clearly did not understand the way my maroon velvet mock-neck tee went perfectly with my bright blue teddy bear print leggings. My gym teacher was insistent that sparkly periwinkle high-heeled sneakers were not appropriate for kickball. I knew better, and I was determined to prove myself. People began identifying me by clothing items, and as I became “the girl with the embroidered denim skirt” or “the third grader in the cute gray shirt dress” I grew more and more attached to the identity my clothing choices gave me. I was expressing myself in the best way my I knew, and admiration from a few of the eighth-graders didn’t hurt either.
As I got a little older, my parents began to recognize and feed my fascination. Through a friend of my father’s, I was reminded of something that I still say all the time. Her name is Beverly Feldman, and she’s my idol—she designs shoe and handbag collections that are crazy and innovative yet still totally wearable, and they’re sold through many major department stores. She has a fabulous compound in Alicante, and all of my ambition comes from observing her success. The quote is by Oscar Wilde, and it’s simple: “You can never be overdressed or overeducated.” At the time, it was made clear to me through my dad shouting “There’s no such thing as overdressed!” every time I got worried that I might look like too much of a diva. Even Beverly’s own catchphrase “too much is not enough” has stuck with me, and became evident in my dressing choices. I wore four-inch fabric-wrapped wedge platforms to my tenth birthday party, and to this day it’s not uncommon for me to do everyday things, like go out for sushi or comb through a rack at T.J. Maxx, in heels of equal height and a massive faux fur coat.
I think I was lucky in that the world’s fascination with fashion grew with mine. Project Runway served as a key influence in my romance with the industry. It was no longer enough for me to have graduated from J-14 to Seventeen before I even hit my teen years—I wanted to create. I began sketching fashion forms and doodling dresses in the margins of my notebooks, desperate to be the next great designer. I read an article about a sixteen-year-old from Russia, Kira Plastinina, who started her own fashion line and begged my mom to take me into the city to her store. I took fashion illustration classes, styling classes, and my dad got me a sewing machine. I just needed to learn to sew.
If I’m being honest, my romance with fashion was mostly surface-level until my senior year of high school. Yes, I took classes, read every fashion magazine I could get my hands on, stalked blogs, and even tried my hand at starting my own, but I still wasn’t adamant about needing to be in the industry. Even if I had been, I had no idea how I wanted to do it. I had the passion for design school but was lacking the experience, and thus chose a life of normalcy and potential major in Anthropology when I made it to college. That all changed with the help of another family friend. She taught me how to sew, and when I came to her with plans for a senior project of epic proportions, she eagerly agreed to help me. I launched May Term by Alexis, and it allowed me to attack the business at all angles and really learn what it was all about. I designed, sewed, promoted, showed and sold my own five-look clothing collection. I blogged about the process every step of the way, and whenever I really need a reminder of why I’m doing what I’m doing, I go back and look at it. I’ve never felt that honestly proud of something before then, and I was hooked on the rush I got from it. There was the rewarding aspect of this beast of an industry, and I wanted more.
When I got to school, I joined every fashion organization I could. I styled for The WALK, designed yet another collection for Dzine2Show, wrote for Her Campus and got the opportunity to spend two semesters contributing to College Fashionista. Last summer, I had what I think will be my final epiphany and sealed my fate. I want to work for Fashion. I want to be @OscarPRGirl. I won’t deny it, a part of me still sees myself as the next Anna Wintour and everyone’s got a little bit of DVF in them, but I know I’m on the right path. I’m working hard on existing opportunities and creating more for myself. I’m spending my breaks from school slaving away in a mall for retail experience. I stress over deadlines, advertisers and designer relations. The important part is that I wouldn’t trade any of it for anything. I’m truly, madly, deeply in love with the monster that is fashion, and I’m never going back.