The Vibe at Eckhaus Latta Was Like a Messy Bun That Actually Looks Good—Something I Have Never Pulled Off

Today I became a fashion girl. I never thought it could happen to me, but thanks to ELLE—I have arrived.

Growing up, I was always wanted to be a woman who went to events and honey? The Eckhaus Latta Spring/Summer 2019 show was an Event with a capital E, bitch! Literally everyone on Instagram was there and as someone who j’adores being online I felt right at home.

I had woken up the morning of the show with a hangover from absolute hell, having spent the previous night chugging lukewarm vodka and diet coke while running around yelling “where is the tallest guy at this party?” over and over again until blood came out of my eyes. So, when I woke at a cool noon PM I only had a few minutes to select my fashion look. I opt for something subtle: a sparkling metallic baby blue button-down shirt over a red halter top paired with my black H&M pants that must be been made from a combination of toilet paper and bicycle tires. I wear these pants every day, but I also don’t ever wash them. I’m quirky!

I call an Uber because I’m made of money and begin my journey to Bushwick because legally, the show had to be in Bushwick, for legal reasons. I don’t make the rules! I highly recommend Bushwick if you like thrift shopping or having bad sex with someone in a bad band. During the Uber ride, my driver got into a screaming match with someone who pulled in front of him, which made me feel cool and safe.

When I arrived at the venue, which was obviously a warehouse, I spot a sea of fashion photographers snapping pics of hot people in hot clothes standing hotly. It’s so beautiful to watch the conception of these images—it’s almost like seeing an ultrasound of a blog. One of the main things to know about me is that no one asked to take my photo while I was waiting outside the venue. It’s pretty much impossible to say why these fashion photogs didn’t want a photo of someone in their late 20s wearing head to toe Urban Outfitters from 2016, but God works in mysterious ways. I ran into a friend outside the show because I’m very connected and he was like “literally why are you here?” which I loved!

I told the woman at the door I was with ELLE, which made me feel very Jen Garner in 13 Going on 30 except I’m not a 13-year-old girl trapped in a 30-year-olds’ body, I’m just me trapped in my body. She directed me into a dark corridor and we (the fashion community that I am very much a part of now) were shuttled into a massive warehouse space where various men using power tools ignored us. The space would be best described as an awesome place to get murdered if you’re into that kind of thing. We walked past the power tool men (PTM) and were guided into a giant elevator that I kept calling a “meat elevator” because I think I was hungry?

When the meat elevator hit the top floor, I stepped into a big ass room drenched to the heavens with natural light. Real estate agents are gagged!

The space is empty but for plastic chairs and what appeared to be a daycare? Perched atop some blankets sat a group of impossibly chic children banging on plastic buckets with drumsticks.

The soundtrack of children banging on buckets is best described as…what’s the word for the opposite of Excedrin? I decide to pick up a complimentary beverage. At first, I didn’t think it was complimentary because it said $19 cocktail, but upon closer inspection I realized it said SS19 cocktail and I took a sip. The sip tasted very bad to me, but my friend pointed at the guy who made them and he was hot so I’m willing to work something out for the benefit of our future children.

Suddenly, a model appeared and started walking the runway. I knew it was a model because it looked nothing like me. The model had hair that was half short and half long, almost as if the hairdresser gave up halfway through the cut.

One by one, the half-haircutted models snaked around the room in ugly-pretty art-school-chic looks. All the models looked furious, which turned me on. I think they were mad because the hairdresser didn’t finish their haircuts but also maybe they are all going through a breakup with each other? I just assume all hot people are fucking all the time.

The clothes were gorgeous—lots of sleek knitwear, psychedelic prints, bejeweled harnesses—all paired with sunshine-y chunky footwear. I was particularly drawn to some of the swishy cocktail dresses that screamed ‘90s rom-com protagonist on the date where she gets to bone. The vibe of the whole show was like a messy bun that actually looks good—something I have (gasp) never pulled off. My one piece of advice is that everyone in the audience should have walked the runway too—they looked so cool and I wanted to see their outfits, please!

As the show came to an end, the trendy Montessori blanket children ceased banging on shit, and everyone next to me immediately called seven Ubers. The whole show was only about 15 minutes and now I think literally everything should be 15 minutes. How gauche to demand my attention for any longer than that! By the end of the show, I was hooked and had absorbed enough energy in the room that I basically got my MFA. Maybe I really was a fashion girl all along? Or maybe I’m just hungover. Cheers!