Living, breathing, and interviewing fashion

Because next summer is so far away, I started planning the ways in which I could fill the fast-approaching winter break with ways to get job experience, or money, at the very least. Last winter break was a bleak, depressing stretch of time in which I was desperately bored when I wasn’t celebrating the holidays (a mere four days out of the month, mind you). By the end of it, I had started talking to my dogs, who I was home alone with all day as my mom, dad, and brother returned to work and school. In order to avoid such repetitious fate, I took to the web to see what internships would be available to me in New York City over that period of time.

One of the most helpful things I stumbled upon in this search was the website ed2010.com, which caters directly to people interested in editorial internships. Magazines and websites post there frequently looking for writers. Though I don’t really know what type of writing I want to exactly be involved in, I felt that winter break was a solid amount of time to try out, but not fully commit, to some industry that I was interested in. Looking at the website, it quickly became apparent to me that fashion magazines were the ones seeking interns the most. I knew that a lot of Scripps women had been involved in the fashion journalism industry, and that we had a good reputation within it, so I decided to apply to one internship at a fashion website that had posted a listing just that day. The application didn’t require a cover letter, just a resumé and a short blurb detailing your work availability. I sent it in, and, in what has rarely ever happened to me, I got a personal response thanking me for my application.

I don’t know what Gods had shined down upon me that day, but later that week I was emailed requesting a phone interview. I felt incredible. On top of the world. Even if I didn’t get the job, I could see myself later boasting the accomplishment of getting a phone interview to my friends and family.

In order to prepare for the interview, I did my research on what the website’s brand was all about. I read their articles (even when, honestly, I hadn’t before), decided firmly what my favorite brand of eyeliner was, and started thinking of ways that I could eat, breathe, and sleep fashion. Though the fashion world was something that I’ve always been interested in, I always found myself to be intimidated by it. I had to figure out how to make myself a contender, so I did. I also started thinking deeply about the importance of fashion journalism, and how it was shaping the idea of what modern, progressive women looked like, and how it could be something that I wanted to be a part of.

When the interview came, I faked it til I made it. I spouted off the names of articles that had just been posted on their website, detailing why I liked them and why I saw them as important. The interviewer and I bonded over our love for poetry, and the way that writing about the Kardashians was kind-of stupid, but it got a lot of hits, so it had to be done. I emphasized my hard-working nature; I found myself relating back to my past experience more often than I thought I would, as I mentioned how I constantly had to keep myself busy working in an ice-cream shop and with second graders. I worried that I wasn’t well-versed enough in the industry, but I think that overall, the quality of being a hard-worker with a passionate drive won out: I got the job.

I’m a little nervous for what this job entails, but luckily, I got it at the right time: with Black Friday and Cyber Monday happening, I’m able to shape up my wardrobe and buy a bunch of cute clothes to fit my new “fashion intern” persona. I also plan on expanding my research in the next month, and reading up on magazines like Vogue, Elle, and Instyle to see what the latest trends are. Though I wasn’t sure at first if I even wanted the job, now that I have it, I’m beyond excited to dedicate my time to exploring a new industry that I could really see myself in.

Writing under a Trump Presidency

It has been two weeks since I last blogged. I had planned to write my blog last week immediately following the election, all cozied up in my room, content with the future of my country. I had planned to be comforted with the idea that with the election of Hillary Clinton, the glass ceiling had effectively been shattered, and that the opportunities for women leaders would be more plentiful than ever before. I had planned to talk about what this meant for my own future, and the sense of relief I felt for the fact that Trump had not been elected. Instead, the truly unexpected results of the election left my friends and I in a depressive state, unable to believe that the majority of our country had elected a man that blatantly espoused hate speech. Reflecting on this, the election is really not that surprising; however, the numerous articles that I had read for my politics class had assured me, on a statistical base, that he would not become President. I had reassured my friends with this information throughout the day, only to be proved wrong. As the results became definite, my friends and I wept for the future of the country. We had gone to a Hillary viewing party, and even brought champagne. It went unpopped.

In the days following the results, campus was more mournful than I had ever seen it been previously. Yet, students slowly got back to work, organizing and protesting and talking to professors about what we could do. I was lucky that the election occurred during a lull in my classes; I was able to take the time to have important conversations about what this election meant for my family, and loved ones in my own life.

If anything, this election has made me think that I have to plan things in the more short-term, and I should be ready to work twice as hard for what I want. It has made me ready to advocate against the deportation of individuals, as the possibility of Sanctuary Cities goes away. I have looked up modes of self-defense, as well as how to intervene if I see harassment going on. I’m most nervous to go home and to have unpleasant conversations with my family members, who voted Trump. The election has brought an unprecedented amount of personal strain in my own life, moreso than if a ‘typical’ republican candidate had been elected.

In terms of career development, the process of pursuing a writing career seems dismal, and pointless, in the wake of the results. After all, America just let one of the more inarticulate men I’ve ever seen become president- what’s the value in writing, if shouting will just get you what you want? I’m trying to not let this mindset overcome me, and will try to dedicate my writing skills towards fighting Trump, whatever that may look like. I hope that my politics major will be helpful on this front as well.

 

Nerve-wracking Experiences and career faux-pas

My biggest career faux-pas consisted of me scheduling an interview at 9 am the morning after a red-eye flight that had gotten into EWR at 6 am. I was running on three hours of sleep and an inconsistently large amount of coffee, which has always given me the jitters and made me nauseous. I was sweating like a pig and stuttering like a parrot. I had never been on a real-job interview before, let alone on three hours of sleep, and my sleep-deprived and anxious mental state made the whole experience a blur. When I seriously try and recount it now, this is all that I really remember- not what I learned about the job, or about how to interview.

The timing of the interview was only one aspect of the event that went wrong. Aside from my lack of sleep, I didn’t have a printed resumé like everyone else in the interview had. I was wearing a weird-looking “professional” shirt when everyone else was wearing something chic and “New York.” I probably was focusing too much on what “everyone else” was doing, but it was my first experience even dipping my toe in the professional world. And the professional world got a real impression of me. I guess in a way I was honest- I would be terribly sleep deprived and coffee-addled for a lot of days on the job (which I would later get!) but I wish I had the experience of putting my best foot forward for a job interview, and could actually remember my mistakes well enough to learn from them.

Aside from that one interview, I’ve realized throughout my experience that I have a lot of nervous ticks. These don’t just come out in interviews, but any time that I’m just starting a job and nervous about how I’ll do there. When I feel like I have a lot to lose, I get quiet and anxious, pulling at my hair or picking at my fingers and especially being clumsy. During my first week in the restaurant I used to work at, I broke a glass- not when I was serving customers, but when I was drinking water in the back with my coworkers. At another job, I spilled four separate glasses of water on the owner of the restaurant. That was my first and my last day there- it was a formal restaurant, and the extensive list of rules I had to abide by made me even more nervous than I already was. I’ve found that the best way to combat these nerves it to just try and remain reassured in my experience and myself. I have to really think about not saying “like” or “um,” sometimes, or to twiddle my hair or my hands, but I know if I focus enough, I can accomplish just that.

New York, New York

Growing up in New Jersey, I had thought New York City was the greatest place on Earth. It was the only major American city that my parents had ever taken me to, so, besides a brief school trip in eighth grade to Philadelphia, it was the only one I had ever gone to. I had always said I wanted to go to NYU up until the point I actually toured it, when the large school, the lack of a campus, and the semi-snobbish nature of the current students that were giving the tour immediately turned me off. Still, I thought I could at least see myself living in New York at some point- it’s the city at the center of the world, right?

After working there this past summer, I’m not so sure.

First off, living in New York is expensive as hell. Besides the cost of rent, the cost of coffee and any type of pre-made food you may want is insane. The sheer price of everything made me uncomfortable this summer, as I saw that New York was a city of the super-rich and the super-poor; it seemed like the middle class had been phased out. This has been happening in all cities across America, of course, but as I was working in a super-gentrified neighborhood of New York this past summer- the Lower East Side- it was particularly apparent.

Second off, New York smells. It is dirty and polluted and my west coast appropriated self had a difficult time getting accustomed to it. In the summer, the humidity makes everything literally smell like vomit. Or pee, which the puddles on the sidewalk may as well be.

Third off, New Yorkers are mean, in a really unnecessary way. It was again difficult to go back to a place where no one says hi to each other, and where everyone’s ready to attack you.nyc

Yet, living in New York would undeniably have its advantages. For one, it’s close to home. As much as I complain about wanting to get out of my hometown when I’m there, I always find myself missing it when I go away for long periods of time. It would just be nice to be able to return for a weekend, and to feel the sense of stability associated with it. I have been listening to Bruce Springsteen way too often, something I do when I’m missing New Jersey and it’s Italian food.

Aside from it being close to home, it is the center of the literary world. Visiting author and Scripps alum Nora Zelevansky emphasized on her return to campus how one has to be in New York if they want to “make it big” in the writing business; that is, if they want to write for one of the big magazines. I would be honored if anyone, anywhere, paid me like, $5 to write something. Yet, if I want to make a serious career out of doing so, I should really consider living in New York. The extent to which I want to pursue that type of career next summer totally depends on where I want to live. Right now, I just have to wait and see.

Speaking Candidly to My Past Self

There are few things I wish for more in life than the ability to go back in time. I mean, to see other time periods would just be cool. I wouldn’t want to stay there for more than a day of course; I really enjoy basic twenty-first century things like not having smallpox and voting rights. But still, I would enjoy seeing past time periods, in past worlds, and talking to my past self. If I could go back in time and talk to my high school self, the first piece of advice I would immediately give would be “Stop plucking your eyebrows so that you look constantly surprised. It is the worst.” This was a trend that went on far too long into my teenage years, and images from this time period will cause me increased anguish for years to come.

Upon leaving the aesthetic ballpark (for which a lot could be said- “go on Accutane sooner, stop doing bottom eyeliner, stop wearing strange graphic tees”), my advice would veer into deeper musings about myself. As a teenager, I didn’t have a lot of confidence in myself. I knew I liked writing, but I didn’t have enough passion to pursue it, and I even forced myself to stop writing creatively at one point because I thought it was impractical. In this field, I would give myself the advice to write even when it’s hard, because even if no one really cares now, people will care in the future. I would emphasize that writing is a craft, not just some emotional outlet that involves spewing words onto paper, and that working on this craft can be soothing and confidence building. Even if no one’s going to read it, I would encourage myself to write personal essays about my experiences, and to not be so damn down about my lack of experiences.

I would encourage myself to read more; I liked reading a lot as a kid, and I stopped doing it in my teenage years in a strange fear that it would make me “lame.” I would tell myself to stop worrying about being “lame,” because by the time my high school career ends, everyone will think I’m weird for going off to a college of 950 women across the country that no one’s ever heard of regardless, so I might as well do whatever I want.

I would also tell myself to stop telling everyone that I’m going to major in International Relations, and that in my first semester of college I was going to take an Intro to International Relations class and consequently hate it, and then I’ll have to go back to my hometown and tell everyone that I am no longer majoring in International Relations. I would tell myself that English is a perfectly acceptable major, and also that learning is cool, and that I should stop hanging out with those kids that talk about smoking weed all the time when I don’t even smoke weed. Furthermore, I would tell myself to be friends with the people I was friends with my senior year sooner.

But most of all, I would assure myself that things were going to be alright. Even in the summer leading up to college, I was panicking about not having friends at Scripps, about being homesick, and pursuing my major being a waste of money. I still take time now to reflect on how panicked I was, and how relieved I am that now, everything’s okay.