Ever since I can remember, attending New York Fashion Week was a dream of mine. Sitting in the front row at the shows, getting snapped up by the photogs, being featured on some of my favorite platforms, and showing up as THAT GWORL meant everything to me. I went to my first NYFW in 2014 and I legit felt like I was living in a dream. I got my first invite to a show at Lincoln Center, and it felt like I was the Black Carrie Bradshaw.

Over the years, things started shifting for me. The way I viewed this coveted series of events began affecting my mental health. While I thought I had a strong sense of self, fashion week had me wondering who I was and if I was worthy.

The hardest truth: it’s draining. Schedules are packed from dawn to dusk with endless engagements—you’re constantly stressing over what to wear, how you’ll come across in photos and on social media, and whether you’ll even make it into the shows.

The Dream vs Reality

Courtesy

In 2018, I penned an essay sharinghow New York Fashion Week made me doubt myself. Then, I was living in Denver, traveling to the Big Apple to partake in the fashion week festivities. I had been excited about becoming one of the street style icons photographers captured, but when I arrived at my first show of the season at Industria, I noticed a disheartening trend. Photographers mostly focused on white and Asian women, often overlooking Black women. As I entered the show, I felt even more intimidated, questioning my worth and wondering if I wasn’t good enough for the front row.

While I was still trying to figure out my place in the space, there was still a beauty behind the chaos. B.C., before COVID-19, the atmosphere was real and somewhat inclusive. Within the dynamic landscape of social media, TikTok content creators have become highly valued assets, triggering a ripple effect of significant changes and transformations.

Since I am such a huge empath, I feel all the things and intensely. A year ago, I wrote, “This fashion week definitely hit different for me. It felt heavier and not as fun as it used to be. One day, once I’ve processed everything with my therapist, I’ll be able to talk about the psychological Olympics that overwhelm me, from what to wear to not being accepted by certain groups — it’s just so much. And we don’t talk about what it does to your mental. I’m definitely living in the BOTH/AND space — it felt grueling, and I felt blessed.”

I’m ready to talk about it now. In reality, the fashion industry is not for the faint of heart. Although I cherish the sense of community and sisterhood I have built, there are moments when loneliness creeps in. From panic attacks to feeling like you’re having a perpetual hangover, it’s just so stressful.

Someone gets to decide whether you’re worthy of partaking in a show or party without actually knowing you. That kind of judgment does damage to your self-esteem. As time passes, I find myself with limited patience for individuals who harbor uncertainties about my identity and contributions.

In the realm of fashion week, an exclusive atmosphere exists, reminiscent of the "mean girls" clique. Some individuals derive pleasure from denying others the opportunity to join their circle, both metaphorically and physically. And now, this thing that used to bring me joy has become a reminder of what I haven’t achieved even though my friends and family look at me, and it appears that I am living my best life.

Then, there’s the absence of inclusivity, particularly in terms of body diversity, has left a lasting impression on me as the reflection of women who look like me, a size 14, dwindle every season.. The 2020 of it all had the brands wanting to check the boxes and “do it for the culture.” But now, four years later, the promises of inclusion have worn off, and the runways and presentations are back to their white-washed-size-4 ways.

A New Perspective

Courtesy

Now, as a resident of Brooklyn, I've made a conscious decision this season to experience New York Fashion Week on my terms. This means prioritizing events and shows that genuinely resonate with me and align with my values. No more going to events to be seen — I am more concerned about how my life feels than what it looks like to others. NYFW can often be overwhelming with its fast-paced schedule and plethora of options, but I'm choosing to approach it mindfully.

No more 12-hour days where I don’t eat and spend $300 on Ubers.Rather than feeling pressured to attend every event or show, I'm focusing on curating a personalized experience. I'm taking the time to research designers and brands whose ethos and aesthetics align with my own. This allows me to connect with the creative vision behind the collections and appreciate the artistry and craftsmanship that goes into each design.

By attending shows that speak to me, I'm not only supporting the designers I admire but also immersing myself in a creative environment that inspires and invigorates me. I'm able to engage with like-minded individuals, exchange ideas, and gain fresh perspectives on fashion as the amazing art form I have always loved it to be.

For me, NYFW is about more than just seeing the latest trends. It's an opportunity to immerse myself in a vibrant community of creatives and celebrate the transformative power of fashion. By attending events that fill me up, I'm not only experiencing the spectacle of NYFW but also enriching my creative journey.

See how I take care of my mental health — very cute, very demure, very mindful.

Let’s make things inbox official! Sign up for the xoNecole newsletter for love, wellness, career, and exclusive content delivered straight to your inbox.

Feature image courtesy

ALSO ON XONECOLE