I ran around the city to find the perfect pair of jeans. After sweating and stress, I delivered 6 pairs to the mother ship of all fashion magazines.
That's right. Today, at my internship at Levi's PR, I received a call from Vogue telling me that they needed some dark wash straight leg jeans for Ms. Anna Wintour, herself. Not for a photo shoot or a fashion spread or a fashion story. For her own personal ownership.
The fitting was at 1pm. I received the call around 10:30am. Seems like plenty of time right?? WRONG! Me and my boss ran into the denim closet and pulled everything we had that fit the description and that was in her size. We didn't have a lot to choose from so I ran to the Levi store on 14th Street. They didn't even have much of a selection. But I got what I could.
When I got back to my internship, we prepped all of the pieces, made them presentable, and my boss sent me on my way to the heavenly source of goodness that is Vogue.
Now, I would be lying if I said I wasn't a teenie bit nervous...but that completely disappeared when I got into Conde Nast. Seeing all these woman in the most beautiful clothes I've ever seen made me feel like a true ugly duckling (and when I left my room this morning I thought I looked pretty hot!!). I got my visitors pass and made my way towards the elevator. I guess I was still a little nervous because I went to the wrong elevator section. Once I got in the correct elevator I hit the floor number and was on my way to the top (I know, how symbolic!).
Two other people were in the elevator with me and got off before it got to my floor. When the doors opened, I really felt like I was standing at the pearly gates. The reception area was beautiful. So simplistically chic, it was intimidating. The overwhelming feeling of bliss made me think, "this must have been what Dorthy felt like when she first got to Oz".
As I was waiting for the assistant to come out and take the jeans from me, I was watching all these woman walk by who worked there, and tried to imagine myself someday being one of them. It was hard to visualize, but the thought excited me more than anything and made me crave it even more.
The assistant came out and took the jeans, without a thank you mind you, and I was on my way back to reality. I couldn't resist...when I got out of the Conde Nast building I took a photo of the Conde Nast sign, as a little souvenir...well....that and my guest pass.
So now my dreams of working at Vogue are even higher. I long to someday walk through that reception area with my Jimmy Choos (which I don't have now) and walk by some intern who has brought some clothes for the editor or something (you never know, I could even be the editor someday...hey...dare to dream right?). But I'll tell you one thing, when that is me...I will still remember to say thank you to those interns, for I know that those two little words will mean the whole world to them (especially if they just ran all over the city for a pair of jeans for me).