When in Fashion, Always Watch Your Head

Below the gently sloping hipped-roof of an unassuming three-storey building in the Marais, a rafter of wide width protrudes dangerously into the work space of the Stella McCartney Press Office. Normally a rafter of this sort would fade from one’s consciousness and become invisible along with the other construction elements of the building. Since space is at a premium in this attic office, however, the rafter runs the length and is directly above the work desks of the occasional interns and low level employees who come to staff the Paris Show Room whenever Fashion Week enchants the city and the world.

Roughly thirty times per day for two and a half weeks, interns and visiting staff members ducked their way under the white painted rafter and proceeded to walk half erect to their respective work stations. As a row of low standing filing cabinets occupy the space behind the pathway, the scene of Stella staffers making their way to and from their desks is amusingly similar to that of the “8 ½ floor” in Spike Jonze’s 1999 film, Being John Malkovich. Any levity the office arrangement offers onlookers is overpowered by a sympathetic “Ouch! That had to hurt” sentiment whenever an unfortunate intern neglected to clear the space and ran full force into the rafter’s unforgiving constitution. These incidents of private pain and public embarrassment afflicted each and every intern who was unfamiliar with the surroundings. And, I’m sad to say, afflicted me twice. Thankfully, the frequency of such incidents diminished as our internship progressed and our subconscious survival instincts learned how to navigate such danger areas.

As the interns’ heads bruised and swelled from their run-ins with the rafter, I was somewhat surprised by the other swelled heads to be found amongst the fashion fabulous crowd of Paris Fashion Week. Rather than being afflicted with injury, these heads were inflated with attitude and whenever I came across such big-headed fashionistas, I couldn’t help but think, “how cliché, how passé, and how unfortunate they don’t get it.”

Fashion is a strange world. It is a living art form that strives to be in step with the collective beating heart of the masses. Good designers are able to keep their finger on the world’s style pulse for years and great designers are able to do it for decades. These designers fashion clothing to enhance and liberate the wearer’s beauty for others to see. After roughly six months of tireless strife bringing the designer’s seasonal fashion vision to fruition, all the hard work cumulates in a parade of “perfect” women and men animating the clothes on the runway. How a garment moves with every forward step of the model is critiqued by hundreds of discerning eyes in the audience and millions of viewers around the globe.

The single greatest elemental state-of-being with which a fashion model can enhance a garment is confidence. A calm collected disposition of a model adds intangible value to a garment and elevates clothes that simply compliment physical attributes to the status of true desirability in the minds of buyers and reviewers. Fashion conscious consumers not only want the “look” the model wears, they subconsciously want his or her confidence too. Thus, despite the old adage that clothes make the man, we have to conclude that a certain amount of one’s inner temperament is also an important element of one’s style.

Unfortunately there exists a minority of people in the fashion world who mistake having confidence with having attitude. To be sure, it’s an easy mistake to make as confidence is inherently nuanced. For this naïve minority, confidence is only seen superficially as being above concern and is emulated with a type of misguided extremism. This aggrandized caricature of a fashionable man or women is slipped on, zipped up, and worn like a costume by precisely those people who will never reach the upper echelons of the truly fashionable. The legendary status of the Audrey Hepburn and Jacqueline Kennedy-Onassis variety is only reached by fashion icons whose state-of-being rises high above mere confidence and inhabits instead a state-of-grace. Confidence, in its essences, is being at peace with yourself despite your surroundings. Grace, by contrast, is being at peace with yourself and being magnanimous with others around you. Ironically, the dismissive self-centered caricature of a “confident fashionable person” worn by the naïve relegates them farther away from their desired fashion status rather than closer to it.

Before and during the Stella McCartney Autumn/Winter 2012 fashion show in Paris’ ornate Hotel de Ville, it was my job to keep the hungry and crafty fashion photographers at bay and in their respective places. In between chasing down photographers who had snuck backstage or onto the “front row” to snap shots of such celebrities as Anna Wintour, Salma Hayek, Alicia Keys, and Sir Paul McCartney, I was able to survey the crowd of eight hundred or so guests. While the vast majority of the fashion elite in attendance occupied, I am sure, a sensible state-of-being on the confidence continuum separating the naïve from the graced, one man in particular exuded the type of savoir faire that the legendary fashion icons possess.

Wearing his signature blue house-brand workman’s jacket purchased from the Parisian BHV department store rather than a designer suit, 83 years-old New York Times “street fashion” photographer, Bill Cunningham, seemed thoroughly out-of-place seated in the envied front row among the fashion elite. While Mr. Cunningham’s aesthetic appearance belied his current standing in the fashion world, his gentile and unaffected temperament spoke volumes about his future status as a fashion legend. This unassuming man of advanced age exhibited more uninhibited appreciation for art of fashion than nearly any other guest at the Stella show. The only guest who openly appreciated the designer’s hard work more was Stella’s own father, Sir Paul McCartney, whose pride was evident in his exuberant applause at the show’s end.

As dismayed as I am by the fashion minority who don’t get it, the naïve who mime confidence rather than effortlessly exude it, my faith is reinforced by the ones who do get it. Mr. Cunningham’s open delight and graceful disposition and the unapologetic fatherly pride Sir Paul McCartney had for his daughter’s hard work were inspirational in their sentiment and, in a way, point to the true heart of fashion business. For what else is the fashion industry but the business of making others look beautiful? The fact that these two fashionable gentlemen chose to celebrate what really matters in the world of fashion—that is the hard work, artisanship, and vision that is needed to create beautiful garments—rather than merely celebrating themselves should be a lesson to those young professionals currently entering the business. And, (after my short stint working with other dedicated people to execute a fashion show) if I were to offer advice to those entering the business, it would be to always remember to watch your head.

Traveling Europe “On the Cheap” and Subsequently Surviving the Purgatory of a Ryan Air Flight

We came to Paris because we wanted to travel in earnest. We wanted to employ our meager savings to suck all the experience we could from this fine continent. Every ventured journey from the “moveable feast” we now call home has swelled the borders of our understanding a little farther. Perhaps the most useful aspect of our newly acquired knowledge has come in the form of budget travel techniques in general and how to survive flying the dreaded Ryan Air in particular.

If we are leaving Paris by train, we rejoice in the fact that our travel is from city heart to city heart and the un-pleasantries of air travel are able to be avoided. The lack of Ryan Air suitcase Nazis, out-of-the-way airports, long security lines and cramped seating arrangement makes “riding the rails” a decidedly better option while traveling. Alas, the small windows of weekend freedom Lisa and I are able to devote to travel typically nullify the option of train travel. Indeed, reaching the other side of the eastern Alps or the southern Pyrenees mountain ranges in less than ten hours necessitates logging on to the Skyscanner and Bookings websites to see what deals are to be found. The stressful hours spent checking ticket prices against arrival and departure times, researching which weekends are the cheapest to fly, and what airport option is best are all worth it when you strike gold and find competitively priced tickets on a non-budget airline.

“Striking gold” with competitively-priced non-budget airline tickets are incredibly rare events and the vast majority of frugal travelers are force to book with the “no frills” airlines, the worst of which by far is Ryan Air. As Lisa and I are now seasoned travelers on that horrible airline, I feel it prudent to offer two survival tips to those who may someday find themselves seated in a dark blue airplane seat starring at a headache inducing bright yellow upright seat-table. Firstly, before embarking on such a flight, it is of primary importance that you have an iPod, iPad, or some other personal entertainment device along with noise-canceling earphones. Take pains to ensure that your device is fully charged and on your person before you enter the plane. These indispensable items will save you from going mad or committing murder when the Ryan Air Flight Attendants commence their relentless sales pitches over the loudspeakers peddling everything from smokeless cigarettes to charity-funding lottery tickets.

The other big Ryan Air survival technique has to do with the boarding queues and when to leave your comfy seat in the terminal to stand in line. With the exception of those who pay extra, boarding priority is given on a first come basis. While waiting for your Ryan Air flight to board, you may notice people starting to queue up about forty-five minutes to a half-hour before the flight is to leave. When this happens, you have a decision to make: stand uncomfortably in line and get a good seat on the plane or wait until the line thins and gamble on getting a bad seat. If you are traveling solo, you have the luxury of waiting comfortably until the line thins. As most Ryan Air planes have rows of three seats on either side, couples usually take up the middle and window seats leaving a sprinkling of isle seats available for late boarders. If, however, you are traveling with someone else and would like to be seated next to them, you should give up your comfy seat in the terminal and stand in line. While there are many other little Ryan Air survival tips, the two above are the most impactful in terms of making the flight a tolerable experience.

Of course you can avoid employing such survival tips altogether by simply not booking with Ryan Air. Unfortunately, this sometimes proves to be difficult. Ryan Air is like a corporate spider. It weaves a web of enticing prices to attract unsuspecting budget travelers. Ever should you find yourself mesmerized by the seductive dance of Ryan Air’s pricing practices, remember “caveat emptor!” or “buyer beware!” as the prices you see are not all that they seem. Ryan Air charges everything a la carte. They charge extra for refreshments, pillows, and boarding privileges. They charge extra for “web check-in” and “text flight status update.” The CEO of Ryan Air even famously quipped that he’d like to start offing “standing flights” so he could start charging customers for the luxury of sitting down. The only thing holding Michael O'Leary back from launching his “standing flights” initiative are the pesky safety regulations. Buyers should also be aware that Ryan Air often uses inconvenient and less desirable airports to save on costs. For example, Ryan Air does not fly from Paris’ two major airports but rather from Beauvais, which is over an hour and a half outside of the city. One should always be mindful of how far away a Ryan Air airport is from the desired destination and should always factor the inevitable incurred costs of getting to and from such airports. Only after evaluating all the extra costs of a Ryan Air ticket should you resolve to purchase.

Traveling Europe “on the cheap” is possible. However, in order to do so one will almost certainly have to fly Ryan Air at some point or another. Remembering the cautions and survival tips could make a significant difference to one’s bottom line and one’s sanity. Flying Ryan air is not the worst thing in the world granted one is prepared. If one is not, however, the degree of affliction one will endure will probably fall somewhere between Chinese water torture and waterboarding. While I have been fortunate to have never endured such grotesque hardship myself, I have flown Ryan Air without the proper precautions. Narrowly surviving that experience beseeches my humanity and obliges me to warn others of the perils of flying the Devil’s own airline, Ryan Air.

Meeting Family

The connection of my family to the Old World has long since been severed. Growing up there was little talk of our ethic origins except for the occasional reference to being of amalgamated European decent, or, more crudely put with an eye towards tongue-in-cheek humor, “European mongrels.” For as many places as we traveled in Europe and for as many times as we made the journey, we were always embraced by the continent as tourists and never as family.

Lisa’s family's connection with its ethnic origins is infinitely stronger than mine. One of the very first personal details I learned about Lisa is that her roots are not merely Italian but more precisely, and perhaps more importantly, Sicilian. When asked of my family origins, I am always forced to rattle off nationalities as if they are spices to be added to a never-been-tried sauce. “Oh, I am a little German, with a pinch of Irish, and maybe a dash of Welsh and English.” I’ve even heard that we have a little Native American in us, although I am not really certain how accurate that rumor is. Lisa’s family, by contrast, never had to speculate about their ethic lineage, for they still have living breathing relatives in the “old country.” And, I am happy to say, we had the great pleasure of meeting them on our recent trip to Sicily.

Since having relatives in Europe is completely unknown to me, and since Lisa’s contact with her Sicilian relatives was confined to their sporadic trips to the U.S. over the years, we really did not know what to expect when we flew into the Trapani airport a week before Christmas. While we did not want to impose on them during the understandably busy holiday season, it was the only lengthy period of time away from school that we had and it seemed absurd to travel to Sicily and not try to meet up with them at least for a meal. I don’t know how Lisa envisioned our interlude with her Sicilian relatives, but my pseudo WASP upbringing informed me that it would be a polite, slightly awkward, dinner that would enable us to become more familiar distant relatives and then we would part ways. It is clear to me now just how different the white Anglo Saxon approach to distant relatives is from the Sicilian approach.

From the moment we met up with them to the moment we said adieu, they were nothing but warm, welcoming, and exceptionally hospitable. We were picked up in Trapani by two of Lisa’s relatives and driven an hour and a half to Palermo, where most of the family lives. Along the way, we made a side trip to see where they harvest salt from Sicily’s Mediterranean coastline and once we reached Palermo, we were given a historical and architectural survey of the old city. Wide-eyed and passively along for the ride, we were taken to “Auntie Nancy’s” for lunch. Filing out of the quintessentially small European elevator, our guides opened the apartment door and we were surprised with a dozen smiling welcoming faces to greet us in unison. Happily overwhelmed, I looked over to Lisa and gave her the, “oh my god, were you expecting this?” kind of a glance. They wasted no time in ushering us to the dining room where we were seated at the honorary head of the table and given special wine glasses. After a delightful lunch we retired to the living room to enjoy Sicilian deserts along with Sicilian desert wine and were informed that the family had made up a room for us so we would not have to stay in a hotel. It’s a strangely difficult position to be in when you don’t want to be a burden but, at the same, you don’t want to be rude by rejecting someone’s hospitality.

After our first few attempts of, “oh no, there’s no need to put us up, we’ll stay in a hotel” were met with confusion and then firm insistence, we dropped the subject. As that first day gave way to the second and then the third, Lisa and I slowly learned that the family had no intention of allowing us to tour Palermo without a relative to guide us. They took turns taking us everywhere in and around the city. They cooked unbelievably delicious meals for us in their homes and introduced us to the amazing array of “typically Sicilian fare” at some great restaurants in Palermo. Any mention of financial contribution on our part was immediately castoff. As the days progressed, we realized the futility of our polite, not wanting to be a burden, resistance to their hospitality. We gave in to fact that they were treating us as family quests and we allowed ourselves to be embraced as such. When we did, the abstract notion of having family in Europe that we possessed when we set out for Sicily was replaced with genuine familial relationships, albeit distant relationships.

I can scarcely convey how nice it was to meet Lisa’s relatives in Sicily and how the sincere hospitality they gave was the next best thing to being with our immediate families back home for the holidays. I only hope that we are given the opportunity to reciprocate that hospitality if and when they decide to travel to the United States.