Picture this: A room full of people, mosty girls, music blasting from some sound system, a coffee maker being abused every time some over-caffeinated twenty-something feels like they’re about to breathe their last breath. Everyone’s quiet, mostly minding their own business, except for maybe the crazy person going around singing Call Me Maybe or some 90’s pop song from their childhood, and of course, the poor unfortunate soul that sewed on the sleeve where the collar mas meant to go. Oh, and let’s not forget the teachers: one sorrounded by at least 10 hysterical students, who have no idea what to do next; and the other one calling out, in a singsongy voice, a 30 minute warning to turn in the mid-term piece.
Yes, this is pretty much a normal day at fashion school. When someone asks a fashion student how it’s like, the answer they expect is one full of glitz, glam, sugar and spice, and everything nice, when in reality the answer couldn’t be farther from that. Fashion school, while beautiful in its own, unique, kinda creepy way, is really a dark place, where sweat, tears, and sometimes even blood are shed.
The first thing that pops to mind when trying to compare fashion school to something else, is a battlefield. Each semester, even each day, becomes a little war to win. There has to be a good strategy behind your time management, a good memory behind knowing how to draft patterns in a small amout of time, and of course, a good team of rulers, pencils, and tape meassures. Blood, sweat and tears will be shed, especially during mid-terms and finals. People will say just about anything, do just about anything to try to knock you off your horse.
Its a hard world in there, not knowing who to really trust, and knowing that for the next four years, the lucky 30 people that were accepted will soon enough just be lucky 10. Also, the fact that those 10 people, who at the end of 4 years end up being a surrogate family away from home, will turn into your competition once the diplomas are handed out is kind of sad.
In a world so cutthroat as the fashion world, where one day you’re at the top, and the next you’re being thrown down by the exact same people that put you up there, its hard to trust people. Its also hard to realize that in order to get on top in the first place, trust is something that must happen.
You must trust your patternmakers, and your seamstresses. You must trust your financial backers, your co-designers, if there are any. You must trust your teachers and what they taught you, both good and bad teachers; both kinds teach a great deal of things, even though its hard to realize it at first. You must trust your classmates, and your boss, and even the person who will clean up after you’re done in the work-room. But most important of all, you must trust yourself, your talent and your instincts. You must trust your creativity and your skills, and the fact that you’ve made it so far for a reason.
It all sounds so dark and creepy and awful, but it really is not that bad. There is light a the end of the tunnel. The glitz and glam are still there, they’re just not there for everyone. After all the effort and work, comes the time to enjoy that effort and work. Its a glorious 15 minutes, where everyone will be looking at you and when you will be able to let everyone see a little piece of your soul.
There’s beauty in the darkness of it all: there’s beauty in the process of discovering how strong you really are to survive all this and get out with your head held high. There’s beauty in the tears we shed and in the friends we make. There’s beauty in not knowing for certain if tomorrow we will be good enough, but the most beautiful thing of it all, it realizing that at the end of the day, you’re doing what you love.
- C.