I’m baaaaack! TBH, it feels like ~forever~ since I’ve been in my own office, at my own desk, doing my own thaaaang. And really, it *has* been forever-ish, since I’ve been traveling for New York Fashion Week for much of September thus far! But I’m home sweet home now and SO stoked about it, soaking up every single second with J + the kitties + MY OWN BED HALLELUJAH. This was my third time at New York Fashion Week, and I’ve shared some behind-the-scenes of it before – but this year, I wanted to share a few more honest thoughts, since I’ve seen some trends now year-to-year beyond what’s showing on the runway. 😉

My first time going to NYFW last September was totally surreal. I mean…it’s Fashion Week! Of course, I’m no designer diva and I’m not subscribed to Vogue, but there’s just something really friggin’ cool about seeing designers’ hard work come to life on a runway. (See those recap posts here + here!)

My second time in February, I righted some wrongs from the first go around – namely, not totally overloading my schedule and packing more snacks. I went a wee bit NUTSO with it the first time, trying to do #AllTheThings and forgetting that New York has this thing called TRAFFIC that makes it nearly impossible to get anywhere in any semblance of “on time.” So there’s that. 😉 I added in buffers + packed more food and was a bit more selective about what I’d do with my time, so as to not completely burn out by day 2.

My third time was this week. And I have more honest thoughts to share. BUT FIRST, wanted to also share a fun look from the week; it was pretty crappy weather for much of the time, but we made it work with umbrellas + hairspray + the grace of God. 😉

Rachel Zoe via Rent the Runway (code ELIGENZAPERK40 will get you 40% off of RTR’s Unlimited service, if ya wanna give it a try!) // (c/o) // Glitter heels (Old, but are the other sequin booties I wore all Fashion Week that y’all loveloveloved!) // (c/o)

Backless shoes = saving grace. I swear whether you’re wearing 6-inch stilettos or sneakers for a week straight, you end up with blisters. and rub marks. And cuts. And it looks like your feet just went through ballet rehearsal en pointe, or just had a bad encounter with a weedwhacker. Not cute.

Do not skimp on hotels. I was set to switch locations a few times during our stay, just based on scheduling, locations, plans, etc. But my first night, I was on my own and needed to book a place. I naively tried finding the cheapest option online…and somehow ended up in a hostel situation. Don’t get me wrong – I’ve stayed in hostels before when I studied abroad in college, and it’s really no big deal…most of the time. But this hostel was more like a 1950’s war bunker. I booked this thing online because it was $99 (compared to $300+ that many NYC hotels will run ya for a night), and seemed to be tame enough – it came across as older, but more historical and trendy online. LOL NO. First off, upon arrival, I discovered there are 4 flights of stairs to get to the reception desk. As someone 6 months pregnant with a sh*t ton of luggage for Fashion Week…that’s physically impossible. No elevator, no nothing. So, that was cool. Then, the receptionist filled me in on the “no talking, no music, no alarms” policy, since the walls are supposedly soundproof but there is an open ceiling plan. Mind you, I still had no clue what the heck she was talking about; my room was called a “cabin” online, but I assumed I’d have my own cabin, yannno? …Nope. They’re all “cabins” that feel more like war bunkers, all painted black with a physical key to get into your own. I get into the space…and it’s dark. Like, WAY dark. There are no windows or lights. Each room has one lightbulb inside, and the wall is just wide enough to have the twin-sized bed and space for one suitcase next to it before the next wall. And…shared bathrooms. I’m like dude, I left my shower caddy back in 2014. And somehow totally missed this memo when booking. I tried sucking it up and came back and forth a few times throughout the day between meetings, but by the time my second or third meeting was done, I legit could not fit all of my bags into the room with myself. Like, my bags could only fit on the bed…and where would I go. So, I checked out and sucked it up in re-booking a new place for the night. But I’m SO GLAD I switched. I can rough a lot, but I was having so much anxiety and borderline panic from the sheer smallness of the space, and girlfriend just couldn’t make it happen.

Pack protein bars + portable chargers like your life depends on it. Because for this week, it does.

Plan to be early to shows, wait in line a lot, and then be there for ~15 minutes before it’s all over. They’re surreal while happening, though, so soak ’em up.

Also re: shows, note that undergarments are apparently not a thing on runways. I guess bras aren’t Vogue? You’ll see way more nipples than you’d like to see.

Plan to have a budget line item for Ubers. You’ll spend all of your dollars on those this week. Check back + forth between Uber and Lyft for best deals at different times of day.

If you’re a blogger, try your darnedest to plan enough in advance to have things like clothes/hotels covered by brands. Pitch ’em for partnerships, buddy up with friends to increase your reach, or just get creative by staying with relatives/friends/etc. – just try to minimize moving back and forth if/when you can.

Not everything is as it seems. And this is the icing on the cake, folks. NYFW is a classic case of FOMO for many, but I reaaaaaally want to shatter the illusion for a hot sec in case any of ya were following along with anyone via Instagram and feeling down in the dumps for not being there yourself. It’s an honor to attend, sure, but it’s not a universal honor – and it’s not for everyone. Some girls will go to the ends of the earth to “make it” year after year, painstakingly planning outfits in the hopes of being shot by street style photographers and getting front row access at every designer under the sun. Others…not so much. Some girls go for the “meetings” or events, but what’s called a “meeting” by one girl on Instagram isn’t necessarily this exclusive 1:1 coffee date with the head of a company wanting to pay all the dollars for the next big partnership. It might just be an open house at a PR agency, where the girl got a few tubes of lipstick and said “hi” to a PR girl before leaving for “meeting #2”. Literally, that might be it. For as many seemingly magical moments, there are just as many (if not more) moments of what feel like borderline agony in the back of a cab, shoving down snacks and chugging cappucinos for mere sustenance to make it to the next meal or break. Which totally sounds dramatic – but it ain’t a comfy walk through Central Park. By the end of this Fashion Week, I was getting migraines and couldn’t WAIT to be home and in a sense of normalcy again. So…don’t let the glamour of it all fool ya. 😉 ALSO…at least from my own personal experience in going a few years now, girls aren’t always as they seem on Instagram unfortunately, either. One of my *biggest* pet peeves, personally, is meeting people IRL that I’ve known online, and having them be…not the same. If someone presents herself to the Instagram world as being a fun-loving, smiley girl who loveloveloves Jesus – that’s GREAT…so long as she’s actually a fun-loving, smiley girl who loveloveloves Jesus. If she gives you the up-and-down upon meeting, doesn’t seem interested in actually saying hello (let alone having a genuine conversation), and/or emits more who-do-you-think-you-are vibes than all-are-welcome vibes…those are very different things. I’ve had it happen MANY times now where I’ve met some girls online who I had been following for *years*, only to hit “unfollow” after because the whole interaction felt ingenuine or blatantly rude. And…ain’t nobody got time. THAT BEING SAID, I’ve also met some girls in person who are *exactly* like their online personas and then some, who are breaths of fresh air in this space and really just downright awesome chicas. The point being, take it all with a grain o’ salt. And bring along a margarita to have with said salt while you’re at it (if you’re not preggers like me – ha!).