Happiness in the warm sun

The best way to sum up my weekend in New York – celebrating and working during Fashion Week – is to tell you about a phone conversation I had Sunday. It was about 2 p.m., and I was walking down 10th Avenue near 25th Street. This is Chelsea: full of art galleries, fashion studios and, at least for this afternoon, an infinite supply of happiness. It was hot but not too hot, breezy, sunny and everything else perfect. I called my first speed dial and waited as the line rang a few times.\n“How did you know I was just thinking about you?” the voice on the other line said. \nOf course, my mother frequently answers this way when I call (every morning, usually). I told her I was in the middle of running an errand for Tim Hamilton, one of two designers I helped this weekend. \n“Well, how is it?” she asked, curiously enthusiastic.\nAnd then, I thought of everything I did that weekend, what it meant to me and why it made me feel the way I did. In the tiniest of all nutshells, here is how it rolled out:\nI arrived to work at Black Frame, the public relations firm on 25th Street that represents Rodarte, at about 9:30 a.m. Rodarte is a relatively young label, only in its fifth season, but it’s wildly successful. I worked there until just before noon, then walked one short block to 26th Street between 10th and 11th avenues, to Tim Hamilton’s presentation venue. Soon it was back to Rodarte from 3 until 6:30 p.m., and then back to Tim’s for an hour. That 10th hour hit me rather quickly, so I was dismissed and met up with Janita, the friend I was staying with who was also working Rodarte’s show. \nWhereas Friday was a tough 10 hours, Saturday was a grueling and physical 12 hours. Since Janita lives in the financial district at the bottom of Manhattan, we had to leave her apartment at 9:15 a.m; so I could stop at Dunkin’ Donuts on 24th and Ninth Avenues before the day began. My blueberry-glazed and chocolate-sprinkled donuts gave me just enough fuel for the ridiculous tasks that took me all around the city.\nIn short: I had to sprint six avenues – just more than one mile – dressed in all black (and designer), schlep a grocery cart from Whole Foods down Bowery filled with toilet paper and then haul a gigantic garbage bin from China Town to the after party on the Lower East Side. I left the Rodarte after party at 9 p.m., an hour after it began, to meet up with some friends for dinner and then catch a cab home for some sleep.\nThe next day, I headed up to Harlem for Sunday brunch around 11 a.m. After an amazing meal and two hours of lounging and relaxing with my friend, which was temptation enough to make me never work again, I made my way back to Chelsea to help Tim. It was during one of my many errands that I called my mom. While I still had one more day in New York (including Tim’s presentation), I felt I had experienced enough to answer her question.\n“I’m so happy, Mom, that I could cry.” \nSo I stood on the corner of 25th Street and 10th Avenue and just soaked it in. Cars became mute, and I even forgot I was on the phone with my mom. The sun grew brighter, I’m sure – or at least I felt warmer – and my heart beat quickly for a few moments. I guess I knew I liked what I did, but it just felt differently to say it out loud, especially to my mother.\nI love New York: its opportunity, its creativity, its neighborhoods, its donuts and, most of all, its people. \nFashion Week began last Wednesday and ends today. I’m happy that I was there for a long weekend and only saw the two shows I helped with. I don’t think my fragile frame could have taken any more excitement. Forty-eight hours with New York during Fashion Week made me well up with tears; I imagine experiencing the entire eight days would make me explode. \nMaybe next season.