NYFW S/S15 | Day 4

The final day. No, you’re not hallucinating. The Day 3 rundown will go live tomorrow.

I woke up energized, ready for the last few meetings, brunch with my west coast soul sister, & ready to get home to this face.

I woke up sometime before 10:30, scrolled through Instagram to see that every other blogger was either also still in bed or brunching with friends. It appears we’ve all had the same brillz idea. I fight the internal battle of if my need for coffee is greater than my distain for pants. Coffee wins. Pants it is. I need to pack since I’m leaving this afternoon & I’ve still got a ton on my plate for the day. Screw the pants. I need flowy, sheer, black goodness to live in on the last day. It’s all about comfort at this point. I add caffeine & dry shamps to the situation & hail a cab uptown? Over town? I get a cab & head back to the Lincoln Center area.

(A meeting takes place)

10ish: I meet my west coast diva betch at The Smith. Their seafood eggs benedict rivals the best one I’ve had in DC. We talk about fashion dramz, compared what we’ve seen on Instagram, dished about our men (or lack thereof, for some of us), & ended with how sickly obsessed we are with our puppies. For the record, I’d choose Wendell over a man any day of the week. Twice.

1ish: We smooch, part ways, & I realize I’ve forgotten my bag o’ lipsticks at the hotel. Will the first world struggles never end? I stop at the Vogue pop-up across from the tents for a touch up & to snag a pair of the most buzzed about Vogue x Toms NYFW Toms. Talk about chic. Urban Decay works their nude lipliner magic & I’m in yet another cab heading back down to Fashion Avenue the Times Square ish area for more meetings. Deets on these “meetings” to follow in the next few weeks HOLLAAAAAAAAA.

(Insert another annoyingly secret meeting here)

I dart back to the hotel, slam the latest fashion week swagger into my CARRY-ON SIZED suitcase & lug my 3 bags out the door & down the street. Finally, relaxation. I’m on the bus. The seat next to me is empty. I’m plugged into both outlets. Pure bliss. A bro wearing Adidas flip flops & basketball shorts shoots me one of those crooked bro smiles & seats himself next to me. Really, it’s my fault for making eye contact with him. The kid two rows back whines the entire trip. The woman directly behind me decides the loudest container of tuna is an appropriate bus snack. The windows don’t open.

I swear to myself I’ll take Amtrak in February.

For more NYFW rundowns, click on the “NYFW” category link below this post.

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Meaghan Moynahan

NYFW S/S15 | Day 4