WWD photographer Steve Eichner sees it all and shares his unique perspective from the front lines of New York Fashion Week, from the runways in the morning to the after parties and after-after parties at night.
1:30 p.m.: Rita Ora arrives and the fight is on. I scratch my way to the front of the paparazzi pack just in time for her to blow me a kiss. Right back at you, Rita.
4:14 p.m.: Finally, Marc has a cool set for this show, not just his Marc Jacobs show. Neon triangle lights everywhere.
4:16 p.m.: It’s so dark, I can’t see a thing, but I’m able to spot T.J. Miller’s curly hair. Click click.…“Dude, love the show,” I tell him.
4:20 p.m.: I’m in a front-row seat to shoot the show. There’s Nicki Minaj across the way. I run over to get the shot. It’s not Nicki, just a look-alike, but her bubble butt does give Nicki’s a run for her money.
4:55 p.m.: After the show and looking for a cab, I see a security guy I know. “No cabs, I’m gonna Uber,” I say. “A lot of taxi drivers are upset about them,” he says. “Too bad, tell it to Blockbuster.”
5:48 p.m.: Backstage, there’s a neon sign above the models’ heads that reads: “This is not a brothel, there are no prostitutes at this address.” That remains to be seen.…
6:37 p.m.: “What does it matter who you walk for?” one model says to another. “Every show they rip out your hair, f–k up your face, and that’s it.” Yeesh.
3.1 Phillip Lim Store Opening Party
9:29 p.m.: I’m posing for a photo with a gorgeous lady. “You have the life!” Ron Frasch screams to me, over the music. “I sure do.”
9:36 p.m.: I point to a place for Hilary Rhoda to stand for a pic. She thinks I’m leaning in for a kiss hello on the cheek. She leans in. “I wasn’t going for a kiss, but I’m giving you one anyway.” Smooch, smooch.
9:59 p.m.: Phillip holds a friend’s baby and kisses it for photographers. He must be running for president.
10:37 p.m.: Banks is onstage performing. P.r. tells me I can’t shoot, while a thousand iPhones shoot up the air. When will they learn?
11:39 p.m.: Sitting on the floor on the big tapestry rug at The Jane is Marisa Tomei.
11:41 p.m.: “You could feed a small country with what I paid for two drinks at this place,” someone huffs while paying their tab.
11:47 p.m.: A friend is about to tell me a story when the music tapers off to silence.… “Whose birthday is tonight again?” I say, instinctually, remembering the ritual after shooting this party for years. I run into the next room and sure enough there’s sparklers and a cake. Happy birthday, Laura!
Click Here for Eichner’s Eye: Day 5 >>