I’ve been reminiscing a lot this week on my favorite New York moments, trying to remember why I love this city so much. Any New Yorker knows that you love the city one day and hate it the next. This week was my hating week. And in my hatred, I remembered this story…
The summer before my senior year of college, I was offered an internship with my favorite design house. I’ll never forget when the email came through. I literally jumped for joy because I was so incredibly excited. All I had to figure out was the logistics of getting there.
Most internships in fashion are unpaid, and located in one of the most expensive cities in the world. So how does a broke college student, afford to work 60 + hours a week for free and live somewhere for an entire summer? Great question.
I am extremely lucky that I have parents who were able to help me out, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to accept this incredible opportunity. I’m fully aware that many other students were not as lucky.
I packed my (many) bags and moved with three other friends into a dorm room at FIT, ready to break into the industry.
I would walk each morning from the dorm room to the office, a nice leisurely stroll along the newly created Highline walking path, to the giant industrial building by the Hudson, where their offices were located. Once I arrived in the highly secure lobby, I would scan my intern card and make my way to the 14th floor. After dropping my bags in the intern/storage/workroom (aka a closet), I would head to see the pattern-maker I thankfully had latched on to.
She was so incredibly talented and I learned so much from her over the course of those two months. Most days, I was asked to copy patterns of evening or wedding gowns. Sounds pretty simple right? NOPE. These patterns had 30+ pieces, ranging in size from gigantic (the skirts) to less than 2″. The bodice’s were always quick to copy, but when it came time to do the skirts I had to get creative. The studio was so crowded you were lucky if you got 1/16″ of a worktable to use. Another setback was the lack of straight pins and scotch tape. I actually remember using post-it notes and hoping they might keep my papers together. That and crawling around on the concrete floor searching for pins.
This is one of the many impossible tests thrown out to the students of the fashion industry. Here’s a task for you, I’m giving you basically no supplies, but do this perfectly within an hour. I used to store them away in my brain as “Devil Wear’s Prada” moments.
Those lucky interns that befriended an employee were able to leave the office at a decent hour. The unlucky ones could be there until 7:30/8pm. Okay, if you’re being paid, by all means stay as long as needed. But to be unpaid, there was no way in HELL I was staying that late. (Thank God I was one of the lucky ones!)
One thing to remember about NYC: You are always walking. Constantly on your feet (especially if you aren’t provided chairs at your internship…), running errands to different fabric stores, steaming dresses, copying patterns…it was a never ending workout session. By the end of the day you are so exhausted that getting onto the 5′ high dorm room bed even sounded impossible.
The last week I was there I was given my final impossible task. A giant bag stuffed with tulle was dropped into my lap. “This needs to be ironed ASAP”
Tulle is a tricky fabric to work with. If the iron is too hot, the tulle will melt. If the iron is too cold, the wrinkles will be forever locked in. I began my task with an open mind, pulling about 1/2 yard out every few minutes and using the iron to work each crinkle out. Shoved in such a small bag, I was deceived by how much I needed to iron. Turned out to be 100 yards. Yep, you read that right. ONE HUNDRED YARDS. Thats about the length of a football field. I spent the entire day and some of the next ironing. I kid you not, my shoulder was sore on day two. I truly think I was being punished by the fashion gods for some outfit faux-pas I didn’t know about.
Overall the internship was extremely informative and I learned a lot. Would I ever do it all over again? 100% NOT. EVER. My 25 year old body would not survive. I’ve also learned how it feels to be respected in a workplace.
And somehow, even after this tulle debacle, I decided to use silk tulle in my senior thesis collection at college. Maybe I didn’t learn my lesson. I’m still working on trying to remember why I love this city. In doing so, I’m sure I’ll have another story soon…
XOXO -J
Un-Fashionably New York 