i went to fashion week...

..and I liked it. Hell, let's skip the pleasantries, the lies — I loved it. It was so so fun. Let me tell you about it.


So it turned out that BAF Week (Buenos Aires Fashion Week) was taking place about four blocks or so from where I live here. Tight, right? So Kelly and I strolled on over there, without knowing the address, preparing to get lost, getting yelled/catcalled at by random Argentine bums, when this wrought iron gate came up on our left, and we knew that's where we were supposed to be. And so we went in.


After Kelly tried talking to the ticket lady, I had to talk to her with my limited Spanish, but I UNDERSTOOD and look, it was 20 pesos for everything. Divide that by 3 and that's how many dollars it was. Yeah. Later in the night, this Argentine woman who was probably just a little bit older than us asked us if we had ever been to New York Fashion week and we told her that New York Fashion Week doesn't cost 20 pesos, so no. That was sad.


We walked around looking at the displays for a bit. This was the Nike display; there was also an Elle display where you could get free Elle Argentina in an snazzy Elle bag, there was a Coke display where they gave out free Coke, except they kept saying they weren't giving it out at the time (BASTARDS!), there were free Rolling Stones everywhere, and all the designer's clothes were on display, everywhere.

We decided that fashion week was nothing without seeing a fashion show, and we looked everywhere for emaciated models and a catwalk. Then we realized that the long ass lines of people were probably people waiting to get into the fashion show that was supposed to start at 5. That was at 5:20. (It is important to know that Argentines definitely run on CP time, and I think it can be attributed to the fact that they use military time. It's all just too confusing, I'm sure.) We got/cut in line where Remington, Ashanti and Emily were standing so we could get in.


The fashion show we saw was for POSSE, and seeing all those hunchback girls called me back to episodes of America's Top Model with Miss J getting on the models about their walks. Yeah, some of those girls needed practice. But just being there was so so cool, and our seats weren't too bad. Also, fashion shows are really short.


After we got out the fashion show, this woman from some magazine or paper insisted on taking our picture. I know I talk about being black a lot, but I'm pretty sure it's because in our group, there were three black girls, which is the most black people an Argentine has ever seen in their life at one time. So as we were wandering around, the man above from La Nacion beckoned us over to take pictures. He was hilarious, and also he loved us. The result?

http://www.lanacion.com.ar/nota.asp?nota_id=1042417

Clicking that link, you'll see this thing with pictures and we're in them. That sentence was a lot more vague than I intended, but it stays. Anyway, it was lots o' fun.


(Our card says 'Emily + Kelly + Rachael xoxo los EE.UU')

Then we wandered around some more, some dude saw Remington and was like "Would you like to come to the VIP section?" So then, we were in VIP, drinking free champagnes, and if you read this blog, you probably already know how I feel about champagne and how I feel about free things. Imagine my delight. Just imagine it. The waiter girls kept coming up to us offering us alfajores, which are these cookie things with dulce con leche, which is kind of like caramel but way better; and all these legit looking people were just sitting and talking. That's when the Argentine girl came and talked to us and was really nice. I think Argentines are nice, I don't know why, and I don't know how to feel about it.


And that was it. I fell asleep and didn't go out because something is wrong with me, and I didn't want to be bothered with the millions of people in all the bars watching the Olympic futbol/soccer game of Argentina vs. Nigeria. It sounded too intense.

Oh and I finally have an Argentine friend, kind of! Except, I don't have his phone number. Or anything. But, we're friends! His name is Horacio and he kind of worked for IES as a student worker, but Thursday or Friday was his last day, and so he's free game, I mean, a friend. YAY. He wants us (Charlie + Me) to go to a barbecue at his house. Someone told me he lives in Tigre which is outside of Buenos Aires, but you can take a bus or something to get there. I'll keep you posted.