
There’s a moment in time where you feel like you’re living in a dream. There’s a kind of ecstasy that builds inside of you, butterflies of excitement that seem to tickle your senses and open your eyes to amazement. I’m proud to say that I have experienced a dream like no other. My experience with NYC Fashion Week had definitely opened my eyes to the world of glitz and glamour; the wonders of the fashion world. When I stepped into the most distinguished and appraised event of fashion, I stepped into a world of beauty and mesmerizing taste. As the buoyant beats of the techno runway music reverberated, the models glided gracefully across the runway in bright colors of extremely structured material and craftily designed to evoke the mood of spring. There is proof that the fashion world continues to live, and live with a vigor like no other. As a personal assistant to one of the Upper East Side’s socialites, Mina-Jacqueline Au, I was lucky enough to attain entrance into the appraised Fashion Week, specifically backstage to the Rebecca Taylor show. At the Rebecca Taylor show, I noticed the hordes of people crowded around the tents, the anxious girls trying to get a glimpse of Gabrielle Union and other famous celebrities in attendance, and most of what I noticed was the mass amount of light; the lights that lit up the runway, the light of the mass amount of cameras, the light from the faces of the people in the crowd whose love for fashion shone on their faces as the clothes were modeled. The fuchsias, oranges, ceruleans, floral patterns and polka dots spoke to me more than anything could ever describe. It was like spring was growing along the runway; the clothes were alive as introductions of the spring season. Fashion is a gift to Mother Nature during the changing of seasons. Fashion Week, a celebratory event is also a gift to us as lovers of one of the most successful industries of our age.
When I was young, I had dreamed to become a ballerina one day.My mother took me to ballet lessons at one of the best ballet academies in the country. Under the pretty pink tutus and the overflowing ribbons and bows, is the art of discipline and determination. I had both, in addition to ballet shoes in every color and chiffon wrap skirts in every shade of pinks and peaches. But as I grew older, my body didn't allow me for a professional ballet career, nor did my mind. My body was growing and the headmaster deemed me unfit to be a ballerina and at the same time, I was too ambitious to explore other business paths, so I traded in my 


























