Well, you’re in luck because it’s not all that difficult. You see, outside of the hypothetical “tents” at Lincoln Center lie photographers on a fashion safari and you’re the creature in the wild whose head is likely to be mounted next to that antelope in the den. It’s a mixed bag out there. Some people are actual photographers from credible media outlets. Others are bloggers capturing street style rather than shows. And then there are people who maybe just so happen to own cameras and decided to hang around as true fashion hangers on. It’s quite the spectacle and if you still think you’d like to find yourself on a .rus website one day a year from now, here are three hard and fast rules to having your mug captured for all of the internet to consume.
- Be famous. I believe this is self explanatory, but maybe not because “famous” is relative these days.
- Look like a crazy ass Olsen twin who may or may not have ingested bath salts pre-show. In my experience, people who look like total maniacs will always be photographed. This either says a lot about modern day “journalism” or these photographers somewhere along the way mistook freakshow for fashion. Basically layer on the weirdest shit you’ve got laying around your apartment. Add a turban and body glitter for good measure. For some reason, looking insane confuses these photographers and your pic will be snapped for better or worse.
- Go fashion editor chic. The last and, in my opinion best, way to get noticed is to be clean, polished, and preferably wearing something designer. Definitely stick on a pair of dark shades so as to add to the mystery. Is she famous? Is she not? Doesn’t matter, they’ll shoot you just to be sure. A fur coat also seems to be the ticket to getting clicked this year. Look important by texting as you breeze by on the way up the stairs and into the shows.
And honestly, even if you don’t want your picture taken, too bad. It’s being taken. As I exited the shows and stuck around for a few to snap some photos of the outdoor ambience, I found that I was being photographed photographing everyone else. No one bothered to ask for my information, outfit details, or hand me a card, so heaven knows where my image may appear on the world wide web. Occupational hazard, I suppose. Welcome to Fashion Week. They don’t call New York the concrete jungle for nothing.