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  • Brianna Giarraputo

Market Week Part II: Haney x Escada

The day started early. I found myself riding the elevator to Escada’s showroom on 5th Avenue at 7am that Sunday morning. The elevator doors opened and I walked into the most elegant showroom known to man. The word “Escada” hung in gold lettering on the wall adjacent to

the elevator. In front of me were three sassy mannequins draped in stunning gowns.

The wall parallel to Madison was covered in giant floor-to-ceiling windows. I walked to the window, still in awe by the fact that I was in Escada's showroom. Below me, busy New Yorkers hustled with speed to their desired destination. They glided across the gum-stained sidewalks with such urgency. I wondered where they are heading – to work in one of the skyscrapers or to shop at Dulce & Gabbana; both jobs, equally as important.

I slowly came out of my trance as my eyes soared to the racks of clothing that lined the perimeter of the showroom. Escada’s new collection was a culmination of beiges and yellows. Looking wasn't enough. I glided my hand across the clothing, admiring each texture and detail. My gaze then turned to an empty corner where the Haney x Escada collection would soon be displayed.

Natalie, the head of global sales, and I quickly unpacked the intricately made gowns and cocktail dresses from cardboard boxes that arrived from L.A. just hours before our arrival.

Hang. Steam. Merchandise. Repeat.

By 9am, the showroom was set for our first appointment. It’s game time. I took off my Nike’s and threw on my stiletto boots. Off to the bathroom where I reapplied my lipstick and deodorant. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. These are the moments I live for I thought. The anticipation, the calm before the chaos, gets my heart rate beating at borderline dangerous levels.

On your marks. Get set. Go!

There I was, artfully playing the Market Week game: zipping up models’ dresses in a room the size of a closet; running errands to the Apple store and Staples; and undressing then redressing mannequins in gowns that were worth more than my life savings. It was an exciting and nerve-wracking experience, bundled in a big pink bow.

For 72 hours, all that existed in my world was Haney. I dressed models in Haney. I spoke about Haney over breakfast, lunch, & dinner. I called my mom and told her about Haney. And when I laid down on that hotel bed for 5 hours of sleep, I dreamt about Haney.

I left for the Port Authority right from the showroom on that Tuesday afternoon. Before leaving, I went back into that same bathroom and changed into my KIND FASHION t-shirt (which are on sale for $10 now - just saying). I threw all my clothes into my KIND FASHION backpack and took a quick mirror selfie, as one does. Mary Alice, the founder of Haney, kindly took a photo in one of my t-shirts with me and posted it on her Instagram before I headed out. It was the cherry on top of the Market Week sundae.

There is no better feeling than that wave of exhaustion that hits you after Market Week. It reminds you that the late hours and early mornings you dedicated to the fashion line paid off. I slept the whole bus ride back to Philadelphia like a baby on melatonin, and yes, I dreamt about Haney.


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