Thursday, October 24, 2013


Back in August (2013), I found out there was a traveling documentary centered around the legendary House of Field premiering at Marquee. 

And it was open to the public.

Naturally, I brushed off my hologram platform sneakers and carried my ass to Chelsea that night. Full 'fro, flannel, stacked bangles and absolutely no fucks.

I can remember practically stomping the pavement as if it were a catwalk and my name were Naomi. I was totally consumed with the spirit of Carrie Bradshaw.  Even when my evil mind was whispering to me 'What if there's a list that Im not on?' and 'Oh, fuck look at all these dope ass people here', not ONCE did I feel out of place or not cool enough to be there- which is pretty maj for me.

As I walked up to the line, there were a few people already there but one woman in particular stood out. 

Her. Hair. Was. Everything.

It was past her shoulders and the orangest orange that ever did orange. And the color was PERFECTLY evened out. No streaks, no bands, no missed spots. Nothing less than perfection.

She told me I could go on ahead of her, as she had every intention of finishing her cigg first. I happily obliged. Eventually, she and her clique and about a hundred other people who looked like the original and authentic version of Sex and the City characters and tumblr inspirations filed in line behind moi.  

I listened to the lady tell stories about Patricia Field and working in the store for a good 45 minutes and I enjoyed every second of it. 

Seeing as I was the only weirdo who had come solo, when the doors to the venue opened, I was able to tunnel vision my way to the best seating area in the house. After everyone got they're kiki on they eventually all stuffed into my seating zipcode. 

The film came on and I immediately noticed this shindig was something like a family affair.  After the filmmaker said his peace and apologized for Pat not being present (which I had found out from Big Orange earlier) the movie opened with applause. Not necessarily out of excitement, but out of familiarity for sure. Apparently many of the people in the flick, were in the crowd, as well as friends and family of the 'house'. 

And sure enough, she was too.  Best Hair 2013 was actually HoF legend Codie Ravioli. And she had taken a spot directly across from me, which meant

1)I was surrounded by the coolest people of the House
2)I got to hear side stories/comments throughout


This night turned out to be pretty meaningful to me.  The film was obviously amazingly inspiring for any creative ambitious fighting young outsider. But it was also probably the first time, in the whole three years that I've lived here, in the whole time that I've been working in the fashion industry that I actually felt comfortable with my not-in-the-cool-clubness.  Like, I enjoyed the night, the scenery, the crowd, the vibes, everything WITHOUT feeling awkward at all. I did not feel like I wore the wrong shit. I didnt feel like anyone was looking at me disapprovingly. I didnt experience any of my normal oddball shit. I was just me. Amongst a bunch of cool ass folks. Thats it. 

Freedom from baggage and hang ups. Confidence in every move. Creative passion pulsating through my bod. It was the very feeling that I had always imagined Id have once I moved to New York. 

Flash forward to today. I dont know exactly how/why but I found out that Codie passed away- which prompted me to relive this night. May she sleep amongst the angels.