This is Kayla. One day Kayla, our friend Rachel, our friend Ayelet and I went to the city to celebrate Ayelet’s birthday. It was a night in February, and we went to eat dinner and subsequently walked through the city streets. We eventually reached Lincoln Center and saw that New York City Fashion Week was going on. Kayla and Ayelet were ecstatic and tried to convince Rachel and me to try to get in, but we two scaredy cats stayed back while the other two went to talk to the guards. Don’t ask me how they did it, but long story short, we got into NYC Fashion Week.
Glitz and glamour, shine and posh; that’s the best way I can describe to you what we saw when we walked into the foyer of the building. Tall, elegantly dressed women surrounded us, the makeup on their faces immaculate. Designers at every corner, discussing fall 2011’s latest trends, sipping Diet Pepsi from cans using bendable straws. And a spotless, beautiful Mercedes-Benz was present at the center of the room, a hotspot for photographs. And here we were in the midst of all this, four teenage girls dressed in jeans skirts and fake Uggs. What were we doing here? How did we ever get in? We kept turning to each other the entire time saying “whoa”, “how classy”, “look at US!” As a joke, we grabbed some Pepsi too and drank it “very elegantly” with our pinkies raised. Or maybe it wasn’t so much a joke.
Here we were, four middle-class girls, at an evening event with New York City’s (AND THE WORLD’S, it was Fashion Week after all) greatest socialites, pretending we were part of something much greater than us. This wasn’t who were were, but it sure was nice to pretend. Everyone likes to be in the spotlight, and to us, this was an opportunity to enjoy the chic, stylish moment, and drink free soda. But my usage of the phrase “drink free soda” gives you some insight as to who we truly were, and are. While it was a fabulous moment for us, and we dwelled on how “classy” we were, but we were in it for the fun and the free stuff. This opportunity was one we wouldn’t pass up, but at the end of the day, we weren’t going home to our six bedroom apartments on the Upper East Side overlooking Central Park.
A few days after this affair, Kayla and I went to a 99 cent store and wandered the place a bit (in case you needed further proof that my friends and I are not socialites). We came across the aisle of glass utensils and spotted martini glasses, and were automatically reminded of our “classy night out.” “Kayla, I want a picture. Grab the martini glass!” I said to her. “Here, look how classy I am!” she responded, graciously taking the glass off the shelf and holding it as seen above. Sure, it could be nice to live such a glitzy life, but it’s not who I am. If I can get the napkins for 99 cents, why spend $10? And if I have my friends to go to 99 cent stores with me, and we’re happy and have a good time, what do I need to be a part of wealthy New York for?
