I don’t like fashion week and I’m still somewhat undecided about how I feel about Paris, beautiful city but the racism shatters your lens on its beauty. I don’t like the chaos of fashion week, it’s something I will never be prepared for, and the peacocking makes me cringe. It feels like a circus and at this point in my life I will always choose my peace over anything, so I avoid it, if I can. Additionally, dealing with the politics of PR during NYFW, especially, is soul crushing and will leave you feeling insignificant and questioning your life’s worth, while the song One by Aimee Mann plays in the background. However, I do love Dries Van Noten. And with all the love and appreciation in my heart, I decided to fly to Paris to say goodbye to my Papa Dries at his farewell show. 

The day before I departed for Paris, I questioned myself about this deep affinity for Dries, of course the clothes were incredible but why this deep connection?  A few years ago, I was sexually assaulted, I’m ok, now, I promise. The assault dismantled me, I lost my voice, I lost my wonder, I lost faith, and I lost my identity, every now and then I still see a bit of the sadness in my eyes. Fashion had always been the way I expressed myself and in the wake of that, I was lost. I maxed out my credit cards buying silly clothes I wore once. I struggled to dress myself, meandering between wanting to hide myself and wanting to see myself, wholly and not broken. 

I flew with JetBlue Mint to Paris, it can be pricey but it’s the thing I do for myself. It is the absolute best flying experience for long flights, Delta One doesn’t even come close. I land in Paris at 11am and spent over an hour in the queue for immigration, I immediately began questioning whether Paris had the wherewithal to host the Olympics. Finding an Uber took me 40 minutes, and the ride to my hotel took 3 hours because of the traffic. During the ride to my hotel, I rolled the windows down to take in the city, Paris looked broken as though it had been through a war. It no longer glistened the way it used to, the streets were filled with garbage and the traffic was 10 times worse than I remembered. This didn’t seem like a city that was a month away from hosting the world.

I stayed in the Marais, at the same hotel with the Dries Van Noten team, it was small, clean and cute.

5pm: Needless to say, I was exhausted, but I made plans to visit Meryll Rogge at her showroom. (If you don't know Meryll Rogge you should.) So, I freshened up, got dressed, I wore my customized Lingua Franca “Papa Dries 4eva” navy knit teamed with a plisse A-line skirt from Noir Kei Ninomiya, Loewe sunglasses and my favorite red velvet CDG handbag. After those 3 hours in an uber, I decided to avoid the traffic and walk to the showroom. The streets were crowded and brimming with energy. It was nice to look at what people were wearing in Paris, what I will say is Gen Z has a global uniform that’s easily identifiable, adidas sambas while wearing everything in their closet all at once with lashings of blush. A man shouts “Magnifique” at me as I walk pass him, I smile, coyly and thank him. Google map estimated the walk to the showroom would be 15 minutes, it was 30 minutes, comforting to know their distance inaccuracies are global. I was tired, but it was nice.

5:30: I arrive at Meryll’s showroom, with my favorite PR Genius, David Siwicki, Meryll walks me through her Spring 2025 collection, I want everything. It was amazing to see the collection in its entirety, all the clothes together, creating its very own world and not a few pieces on a rack in a store. 

6pm: I walk around the corner to The Broken Arm, one of Paris’ best boutiques. Their buy is great, a stellar mix of emerging designers and the designers we know. If I lived in Paris, I’d shop here. 

6:15pm: I take an uber back to my hotel, since my favorite restaurant Waly Fay is closed, I retire for the evening with an order of McDonalds, don’t laugh. I don’t enjoy the food in Paris, and I was in no mood to have food disappointment, there’s nothing worse than being hungry and ordering a meal and it’s terrible. At least I know what I’m getting with McDonalds in France, it’s free of genetically modified ingredients, surely that must count for something.

2pm: I take a nap to get myself ready for the Dries show. There’s a dinner/cocktail that starts at 8:30, I’m worried about the traffic, the show is on the outskirts of Paris, so I leave the hotel at 7pm. Sadness comes over me, it’s the end of an era for me. I facetime CJR to show him my look, I know he’s tired of me, I’ve been harassing him for weeks about what to wear, he approves. 

8:30pm: I arrive on time, as my car pulls up, it’s heartwarming to see everyone wearing their Dries pieces. The nerves and anxiety set in, but I’m so honored and grateful to be here. I pose for pictures and do a few interviews. The entry process is seamless. I was escorted in and led to pose for official photos for the brand. I spot Glenn Martens, Russell Westbrook, Stephen Jones and Walter Van Beirendonck, gagging. I don’t really drink but I down some champagne to soothe my nerves.

I say hello to a few friends and chat with other Dries aficionados, the vibe in the room is right, everyone’s just happy to be there, Papa Dries pops out for 10 minutes to say hello. Haider Ackermann and Pierpaolo Piccioli arrive together, I gasp at the sight of Haider. The room goes dark, the show is about to begin. We take our seats, the show commences. The show isn’t what I expected it to be, it’s better. I thought the collection would be steeped in nostalgia and it wasn’t, there were gentle nods to past collections, but it felt like a respectful cleansing of the palate to welcome his successor. Dries does his farewell bow and a humongous Renaissance like disco ball falls from the sky. The party begins.

10:35pm: I finally see José Criales, we both sit with very small conversation eating an array of desserts, eat while you can in Paris, you never know when the next meal will be. There’s not a lot to for us to say but so much to process. The sadness hits me again. José leaves, I remain seated watching everyone taking pictures on the silver runway, I wanted to be present in the moment, with hopes I could remember it all, so I can tell my kids one day, mommy was there at Dries’ final show, fashion history. So many of my experiences are lived with my future children in mind. I chat with a boutique owner from Italy, he tells me about what Dries Van Noten means to him. After our chat, I decide it’s time to leave, I’m overstimulated, so many emotions. Someone recognizes me and takes me backstage to meet Dries, her name is Alejandra, she does the casting at Dries. Dries and I have our moment, I thank him for everything, I’m now teary-eyed, he holds my hand and says thank you for being here, he inspects my outfit, he approves. He seems light and at peace. It’s time to go, I request my uber and call it a night. I’m meant to go the Loewe party but I’m just too drained.

Woke at 12:30pm, it’s the jet lag. My friend Marcus Paul implores me to get out and enjoy my last day here. At 2pm I muster the strength to finally get up. I have an appointment at 3pm to view Aubero, an amazing, emerging menswear brand based in New York, I arrive at 4pm. Julian Louie, the creative director walks me through the brand, it’s so special, I’m happy I made the time.