Paris Fashion Days 2010: Exclusive! MNP Reporter/Writer, Scarlett James, cleverly attends event while in France!

I’ve never really been the type to tell multiple, salacious, in-your-face lies.

But I’ll make an exception for Paris Fashion Days.

What, you may ask, is Paris Fashion Days?

“Paris Fashion Days® are the first fashion shows for creative brands and lower-priced designer lines.

This is a solution for creative or established brands who do not have the opportunity to show in Paris, it gives them international visibility.”

“Access to fashion shows is by invitation only for fashion professionals and the general public.”

Paris Fashion Days is to Paris Fashion Week as Skipper is to Barbie.  All it took was a blurb in Grazia magazine who partnered with the Paris Fashion Days for me to decide that my presence was definitely needed at this swanky gathering.

But how?

(Bear in mind, all following dialogues took place in French.  It is incredibly hard to lie your butt off whilst focusing on proper conjugation.)

I took the metro up to the Place de la Bourse and idled in front for a few minutes, pondering my strategy.  There was a small canopy, a red carpet, and two armed security guards.  Entry required a pre-printed ticket, from what I gathered at my lookout point.  I played for time, pretending to make calls and looking for a ‘friend’ who never showed.  There’s only so much stalling you can do, though, without looking like you’re casing the joint.  I walked up, shaking in my ballerina flats.  At least they were by BCBG.

`Excuse me, gentlemen.  There is a problem.  My ticket fell in the metro.  Is it still possible for me to get in?’  Despite my plan to appear harried and important, my voice remained calm.

`You weren’t able to get it back?’

‘No,’ I replied levelly.  ‘It fell between the trains.  I broke a nail trying to save it.’
(This part is true.  I did in fact break a nail.  At lunch.)

‘Follow me, Madame, let’s see what we can do.’
(At this point it’s all I can do not to shout ‘Are you serious?!’)

We proceeded up the red-carpeted stairs to another checkpoint.  Security Guard #1 asked me how I came to drop the sacred ticket.

‘There are too many people on the metro!’  I exclaimed.  ‘The public transport in this city is outrageous!’  Hopefully this implied I was accustomed to a car service, rather than cultivating mad underground rush hour elbowing skills.

The young lady (tall, gorgeous, fashionably attired) at the check-in listens to my woeful tale.  There is no guest list, I don’t have to pick a name and pretend that yes, in fact, I am Jeanne Doe, fresh out of my witness protection makeunder.

‘Oui, that’s fine, just sign here with your company and email.’  I do so, but my hands are shaking so much I have to toss off a weak joke about espresso.  She laughs.  For ‘Company’ I naturally list the Murfreesboro News Press, and her tone changes.

‘Oh, you’re press?’

I nod, hoping that’s a good thing.  It is.

‘The sign-in for press is over there, but it doesn’t matter.  Here is a program for you.  Enjoy the shows, Madame.’

I hold my breath, and walk in.  The first thing I see is the runway, flanked by towering bleachers bathed in water colors of light.  Projected onto the backdrop is the Paris Fashion Days emblem, and electronic music pumps the air.  The first show has just dispersed, and there are swarms of people.  I have to occupy myself until the next show an hour and a half later at 5.00PM without looking like I’m totally shocked, terrified, and thrilled to be there.

This was passed by perusing samples of designer garments for Fall/Winter 2010-2011, drinking copious amounts of free espresso courtesy of Cosí, and getting a free dramatic makeover by the professional artists from Make Up Forever while another show started (best not to look too eager; linger near the snooty fashion editor).  Smoky brown eyes ‘and for you, red and black lips,’ the whole nine.  Who am I to say no?!  Lay it on me!  I thought having a face-full of makeup would give me confidence.  I was right.  Press snapped pictures, and a fashion blogger named Sophie posed me in various ways for her website.

‘Who are you wearing?’

…Oops.  In truth it was Target (from Plato’s Closet no less), Forever 21, and some discounted lace jacket picked up on my way to the Louvre with my study abroad girlfriends.  Clearly, none of these answers would do.

‘Oh, these?  They’re all just vintage things.’

Fortunately, the only tag she checked was the lace jacket.

At 5.00, I have to put up or shut up, and get in line for the next show for Pablo by Gérard Derel.  The moment of truth had arrived: Checkpoint #3.  This time I would not be alone to plead my case, and a bevy of fashionistas would witness my disgrace.  I once again recounted the tragic incident in the metro.

‘Who was your invitation from?’ – the sharp brunette

‘Oh No!’ I thought to myself as I stared blankly.  ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Your invitation.  Was it from Prêt-Paris or Pablo?’

‘Oh!  Pablo.’  I figured if Prêt-Paris invited me, I might have to show some credentials.  Pablo would be an easier option.  Largely due to the fact that it was the last thing I heard, and therefore the first thing to come out of my mouth.

‘Very well,’ she says to me,  ‘To the left, please, at the top.’

‘Merci, Madame.’  I go straight to the top and rub elbows with real live Birkin bags and try not to step on the toes of numerous Louboutins.  The lights go down, the music goes up, and the show begins.

To say it was breathtaking is an understatement.  Perhaps because it was my first show, won by wiles, but not a single look strutted down the runway that I didn’t instantly love.

Take a look at  the photos below for a few highlights from the collection. Bear in mind, I was about 8′ up and jostling for space, so the quality is less than sublime.

You can see the rest of the shots at my Scarlett James Flickr Page.

Article By:  Scarlett James – The Glamourist

Murfreesboro Fashion – Murfreesboro Beauty

Short URL: http://murfreesboronewspress.com/?p=1654

Posted by murfreesboronews on Aug 2 2010. Filed under Murfreesboro Fashion. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.