It's that crazy time of the year again. NYFW. Pretty and well-dressed girls and boys are rushing around the city like maniacs. From shows and presentations to dinners and lounges. With the hope of being street style snapped in-between. Duane-Reade is running out of band-aids right this second because of all the blisters forming around the city. Uptown. Downtown. And back uptown again. Gosh that was a heavy taxi fare. Let's do the subway next time? Even though I have this ridiculous dress on. All in the name of fashion. Pardon us, please. This will be my third NYFW, but never have I ever stayed for the entire week (yet). It's amazing now seeing myself getting hyped up to head to the Big Apple to do some of the things I've seen my icons do in the magazines or on the television when I was younger. Sometimes I really do have to pinch myself. It's like a dream come true. And I appreciate every second of this time that I can be frivolous and sip on champagne all day and do all those funny things us fashion girls like to do every once in a while. But at the end of each day, when I collapse in bed after running around like a caffeinated freak in heels all day, I am still the same old normal Dylana (who is just in an even more desperate need of sleep than normal = even more of a crazy person = don't mess with me). I have to say, NYFW is definitely over-rated (with a few snotty people thrown into the mix), but it is always fun. It's the two weeks out of the year when all the lovely people I have met through my blog are together in the same place at the same time. And it is always a pleasure.
I didn't take an extra days off from work to extend my NYFW week this year because of my London trip, and I am totally okay with that. My mind and feet will need the rest before I jet set across the pond. But for the next two days . . . Total madness. I think I'm ready to go. See you soon (again) New York.