The most important week of the season for those of us in the industry (such a shame that using fashionistas is outdated, by the way…) is back here in Copenhagen. The one where every conversation has to begin with one simple question: ‘Busy today?’ or ‘Doing many shows?’ The only acceptable answer is, ‘Yeah, super busy.’ But don’t even think about saying you’re not. You just play the game. Didn’t get invited? Easy… ‘Oh, I skipped that one,’ or ‘Didn’t really like last season.’ Or, even better, ‘Not really my vibe.’ Whatever keeps you looking effortlessly unavailable.
Right after that, the wildcard questions usually follow: ‘Any dinners?’ followed by ‘Doing breakfasts? And which after-parties?’ Not because we genuinely care. It’s simply to calculate whether we’ll bump into each other later that day (or tomorrow) and partly just to know that the other person is doing more than we are, so we can be a little jealous.
And just when you think you’ve survived the day and mastered every conversation, you realize you’ll repeat the exact same one tomorrow with a slightly different group of people. Sometimes, even with the same ones, just to make sure there wasn’t a last-minute invitation that should have slipped into your DMs.
Apart from the endless small talk, there’s what many secretly consider the main event: street style. It’s the highlight. We dress to impress and showcase our craft, the craft of our personal style. And, of course, to provide enough content for every photographer and fashion publication to ‘inspire’ next season’s trends. The only thing that still surprises me is when friends outside the industry ask why we dress the way we do or where the inspiration comes from.
I mean… isn’t it obvious?
The rest of the day is simply survival mode: running from one venue to another, wondering why traffic is moving so slowly despite all of us taking cars and taxis. And if you happen to need to get on a bus? That’s where another wildcard comes in. We don’t talk about it. If someone sees you, just play it again.’I couldn’t find my driver in that mess…’ ‘The car cancelled.’ Or, if you took a bike? That one is easy… ‘Very Copenhagen of me.’
Once the shows are over, it’s time for events, the places we pretend we don’t actually want to be, while secretly wanting to be there because, guess what? Drinks are on the house. Or, to be more specific, on the brand. Before you walk in, it’s important to work on your expression. Arrive looking mildly inconvenienced and slightly above it all. And if you weren’t invited? There’s always a way around it. All you have to do is patiently wait outside for a couple of minutes until you spot some familiar faces, then casually walk in with them. I mean, no one wants to cause drama, so eventually you’ll get in. And while you’re there, don’t forget to be just a little grumpy. Mention that you’re skipping next season and won’t be doing any shows or dinners. Bonus points if you join a local crowd and stay in the conversation long enough to collectively complain about all the internationals taking our invitations and somehow our entire Fashion Week. It’s practically a tradition now.
Oh, and the fashion shows. I almost forgot to mention those. Apparently, that’s why we’re all here. Naturally, the dream is to be seated in the front row, but if that doesn’t happen, don’t panic. Another wildcard comes into play because, obviously, ‘you were just running late,’ and the team had no choice but to seat you somewhere else. Twenty minutes later, the applause starts, we rush out, and the marathon begins all over again.
Some of us are very busy, so we document every single moment and post every day. Others, the supposedly less busy ones, disappear from social media for the entire week, only to return with one perfectly curated recap. Different strategies but same same.
When the week comes to an end, we’re all exhausted. And genuinely so. Yet somehow, we secretly wish it wasn’t over, because this little spotlight only appears twice a year. Before we’ve even put all our looks back in the wardrobe, we’re already waiting for that first invitation to next season to land in our inboxes. It’s a six-month wait, but we do our best to keep ourselves busy until then.
With all jokes aside, hats off to the people doing the real work: the writers, the reviewers, the buyers, the PR teams, and everyone working tirelessly behind the scenes to somehow keep the whole thing together. And finally, to those who simply show up as themselves. They don’t need the loudest outfit, the grandest entrance, or the busiest schedule. Their work speaks louder than any front row ever could. That’s you, G.
By the word on the street, respect.
