I attended an haute couture show

To-do list for January 26:
- send check for me and my friends to attend the Ball de l'ecole polytechnique at the Opera Garnier. Check.
- pick up final papers from stupid class last semester. Check.
- Attend my first class at my new university, Paris 3. Check.
- Stalk haute couture fashion shows. Check.
---- get into one of the haute couture fashion shows. Checkity check check check. Someone up there likes me.

Today, my friend Taylor and I decided to start the haute couture fashion show week stalking by passing by the Ecole de Beaux-Arts and seeing if we could get into the show of a smaller haute couture designer, Christophe Josse. Taylor had miraculously gotten into the show of a smaller designer in this exact same venue during fall pret-a-porter fashion week, but we didn't think it would really work this time, during haute couture week. But whatever, it was worth a try. If they didn't let us in, it didn't matter, because we didn't know anyone, and we'd never see them again. (although actually, i've recently discovered, several times, that Paris is a lot smaller than one thinks, and you run into people you know all the time. But that's another story...)

So we go to the standing line, where definitely everyone but us is holding invites. I really don't think this is going to work, but, lo and behold, 45 minutes later (they ALWAYS start 45 minutes late), the bouncers just start letting people in. Taylor and I join in the chic frenzy, and, voila. WE'RE IN! A magazine is shoved in our face, a smiling woman is pointing us in the direction of where we can sit, which is RIGHT BY THE END OF THE CATWALK!, and we get to look over elegant programs as we wait.

The show starts, and the clothes this man presents are magnificent. He doesn't do crazy over the top haute couture, but instead more simplified designs with bold colors and lots of wings or billows or other things (I have a limited fashion vocabulary). Then, at the end, the music changed, the lights dimmed, and a model in a GORGEOUS white 'wedding dress' (much skimpier than your normal dress, but gorgeous nonetheless) steps onto the runway. She has attitude. She's like "I know I'm wearing the hottest dress on the runway, betches." People start clapping. Eventually the entire collection comes out, followed by the (attractive) designer himself. And, voila, after about 10 minutes, the whole show is over. I keep playing it over and over in my head. It was like a dream sequence. It was every american girl in Paris's dream. And it was fantastic. And I'm too tired to say more. I start karate tomorrow... in French... wish me luck!