The drive?
Some days a flowing river
Others jerking sporadically
From red light to red light.
The parking?
Unpredictable as the weather.
One day a menu of options
Others a rare discovery.
My entrance?
A full hour before the party begins
I craftily sneak in the stage entrance.
19-1/2 years as media my golden ticket.
The preparation?
A single seat in the same space
Season after season after season.
Coat and handbag marking my throne.
What next?
Comfy flats swapped for sexy heels
Posing awkwardly in my daily look
Smiling images taken with others.
The doors open!
Let the games behind
A stream of humanity arrives
Jockeying to find seats of their own.
The curtain rises.
Fabric swirls, colors pop
Models strut to rhythmic beats
Or float to sultry strains.
The bigger picture.
My eyes first look wide
The silhouette, the palette
The movement, the impact.
Then come the details.
Flat seams, no loose threads
Unique darts, creative embellishment
And hopefully the perfect fit.
Lastly, the final walk.
A flashback of every model and look
Then the creator steps into the spotlight
A shy bow or standing proud.
The evening closes.
Three to ten collections a memory
Heels are swapped for comfy flats
Inspired, yet tired, I exit slowly.
Rinse and repeat.
Every day the pattern repeats
But the diverse artistry on the runway
Always surprises and delights
Then, the party's over.
The final show has been applauded
The lights dimmed, back to reality
Yet dreams of next season already stir.
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