Packing For NYFW

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Photo credit: http://slightlyhipster.blogspot.com/2012/04/and-we-lived-happily-ever-after.html

As much as the idea of going to New York Fashion Week makes me the happiest person on the planet (no seriously, I would sell my mother to go again), the thought of having to pack for it makes me sweat profusely.

I’ve seen all these fashion folk on Twitter stressing about what to pack for fashion week. And as much as deep down I’m saying, “seriously, shut the hell up, you are going to Mecca and you don’t even care …I hate your face a little,” I kind of sympathize with them.

I’m a notoriously bad packer. If I’m going to a tropical place where all I need is a couple of bathing suits and cover ups, I’ll end up bringing like a ball gown, a suit in case, you know, I get a job interview, and a sweatshirt and sweatpants … because wonder if a freak cold front hits Jamaica?! The what-ifs destroy me … and my packing methods … or lack their of.

Going to Fashion Week for the first time was intimidating. Do you dress avant-garde to set the style standard and get noticed by Street Style photogs? Or do you go the “all-black editor route” and just be a wall flower? Well, I went the “all-black editor route” and paired it with fierce 4-inch heels with spikes going up the back for a little jazz, if you will. I had this awful vision of dressing to impress and having Street Style photogs beg for my photograph, because I’m THAT cool, and as I placed my hand on my hip to pose, I topple over my 4 inch heels only to be left a fashion disaster on the steps of Lincoln Center. Yep, all-black wallflower it is.

Options are a must. I like all of my options in front of me so I can pick and choose and play around. The idea of planning ahead and thinking about what to wear to what show specifically … well … like I said … makes me sweat profusely. My biggest fear would be getting dressed, looking for that bold gold cuff I have, and realizing I didn’t bring it … leaving me desperately craving it and feeling unfinished. How do you go on?!

So with all of that being said, unless I can bring my entire wardrobe, like Kate Winslet-style in Titanic, I have no interest in going to silly New York Fashion Week. Psh :::flips hair::: The style stress alone would kill me, because God knows I would pack jean shorts and a crop top instead of my go-to LBD. Ahh how glorious it is to be stress-free. Jealous, fashion folk?

Clearly just kidding. Don’t mind me … that is just my Fashion Week FOMO talking. :::Sigh:::

My Suitcase Tortures Me

Day three of being home and yeah … I’m still staring at a half unpacked suitcase. In fact, it is lying in my hallway and has become this stationary beast that will probably cause me to one day break my face. Don’t worry, I made the effort to at least wash the worn clothes in the said suitcase, but besides that I just don’t have time for it and all the nonsense it comes with. Instead, I lie in bed, like I am right now, resenting the fact that I probably only wore 25% of the shit I packed, which leads me to this question … why am I the worst packer in the ENTIRE universe?

I wish it was like the old days where it was a natural thing for women to carry like 25 really fantastic suitcases with them while they traveled. Instead, you tell people you are checking ONE bag and you mine as well have told them that you spit on kittens, hate beer and don’t break for squirrels. My God. “Don’t you know the risks you take by checking a bag? And thinking of TSA scumbags fondling my intimates, ICK.” Really? Sure I hate paying that idiotic fee, but mama likes her options whilst traveling, so lay off, man.

In fact, with all of the dumb “As Seen on TV” shit that is out there, why hasn’t anyone found a contraption that could take your entire closet, suck it into a black hole-type device that would make it all fit in a normal size suitcase? Hmm? Again, as hard as I try, I can’t really anticipate what I’m going to wear three days from now, therefore I need options. Why? Because I wear things based on my mood. I could be feeling fat, bloated, skinny, happy, sad, angry, sassy … who the hell knows! I could potentially want to wear a muumuu or perhaps a skanky tight Herve Leger dress. Who the hell knows. Hence why I need my ENTIRE closet. But is that feasible? NOPE.

It is the “what ifs” that kill me. What if we go out to dinner? I’ll need a dress. What if I don’t like that dress and wish I had the other dress? I’ll bring the other dress, too. Wonder if we go swimming? I’ll need a bathing suit. Wonder if we go to a black tie affair? Fine, I’ll bring my ball gown skirt and elbow length gloves. I mean, what? My mind goes to crazytown places because I’m desperate to be prepared.

Whilst packing for the trip I went on last week, I went back and edited a lot of stuff out of my suitcase to make it all fit. Did I say to myself while on my trip, “man … do I wish I didn’t take out [fill in the blank]? You are sure as shit I did … and I kicked myself for it. I would have rather packed a bigger suitcase and brought my whole life than had to sit in a foreign place without the proper clothing options. Instead I had to repurpose numerous looks, mixing and matching, praying the people I was with wouldn’t realize I had been pulling a clothing Groundhog’s Day.

Really, the only time you are safe when packing is if you are going to a tropical place. Why? Because A. Resort wear is FOUL … no need to bother yourself with it. B. You are in a bathing suit the whole time. C. If you aren’t in a bathing suit, you are in a dress that should be sassy and small … therefore not taking much thought or room in your suitcase D. If you don’t think you will wear your bathing suit the whole time you are a damn fool … seriously. But if you are going to a place where the temperature is iffy (like where I went), then that is where the closet suck black hole-type contraption would come in real handy.

So my thoughts on packing for a non-tropical trip … ahem:

1. Bring a lot of neutrals that you can mix and match. This saved my ass. Because the temperature was so up and down, I was able to repurpose a lot of items with different pants or skirts without people thinking I was a dirty hot mess.

2. Plan your outfits … if you can. I personally can’t do this, but you can at least guesstimate how many outfits you will need during each day. And edit, edit, edit. Did you bring five white T-shirts? Seriously … remove four. One is more than enough. Do you really need seven tank tops in different colors? Try to plan for each mood … if possible. A little conservative, a little sassy, a little skanky, a little profesh (depending on what kind of trip it is, of course).

3. Don’t let the “what ifs” get to you. Take a deep breath and think realistically. Will you potentially go to dinner at night? Will you frequent the beach? How drunk will you be getting? Will there be any potential suitors to impress? Check the normal temperatures (during the day and at night). Keep your audience and atmosphere in mind. If you aren’t going to P.Diddy’s White Party … then don’t pack the skanky all-white dress. If Prince William didn’t invite you to the grand ball … nix the ball gown jazz. Seriously, I know … I get the last-minute … “BUT I NEED TO BRING THIS … spazz out. But get yourself under control. Slap yourself across the face or something … get it together, man!

4. Bigger IS better. I’m all for checking bags. Why? Because I hate bastards that bring suitcases on a plane then take FOR-EV-AH to put the damn thing in the overhead compartment. Shit man, it’s hot, my bag is heavy, I just want to get to my seat and start drinking (you know … because flying scares me), and because then I don’t have size constraints. I can bring as much stuff as I want and therefore will let the “what ifs” haunt some other poor soul.

So there you have it, folks. Take it from me, packing is not an easy thing. I’m tortured by thoughts of forgetting something, missing something, taking too much or not enough. At the end of the day, I pray someone invents the closet black-hole so I can just suck it up, put it in my suitcase and have everything I need … and potentially someone to carry it for me as well … because that thing would be heavy, and I’m straight up lazy.

Word.