My alarm rang it's deafening tone into my ear, and I jumped out of my sleep. "Fuck. Fashion week", I groaned aloud. My mornings were always slow because I lived alone. Each week I followed a cyclical pattern of waking up, going downtown to Vogue Magazine and writing in front of my computer for eight hours. However, there's one week that surpasses all the rest: New York City Fashion Week. A lot of journalists and stylists like to refer to it as Hell Week because the stress that goes into it is unmatched. This year I was lucky enough to get to report on Gucci's show. I'm grateful and excited of course, but the editor for my section has been bugging me and sending me a million things to do to prepare for tonight. 

After getting out of bed and brushing my teeth I turned on my espresso machine for my morning cup of coffee and walked over to my altar to light an incense. Not many people know that I have serious spiritual practice and consider myself a witch. It's not something that is totally acceptable in today's society right now. My job would surely fire me if they knew I was a practicing witch, but my spirituality is something that gives me hope and strength to get through my lonely days. I used to have a few friends in college who I was close with, but when I turned 20 I got a job for Vogue and dropped out. Shortly after my friends stopped speaking to me and I found myself alone majority of the time. It's okay though, I truly enjoy my own company.

I grabbed my espresso and sipped it slowly before going to throw on my work clothes and heading out the door. When I finally arrived to work, my editor was already waiting by my desk with a pile of papers in hand. "Good morning Eden. Hope you slept well because this is going to be the most intense day of your life, and for the sake of our company I cannot have you messing anything up". I gave her a half smile, sat down and grabbed the pile of papers from her hand before saying, "Have any of my articles ever flopped? You can trust me Kathy I'll write the best review of the Gucci fashion show that Vogue Magazine has ever seen. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity that I plan to make the most of. You can count on me". Kathy let out a sigh of relief and as she walked away said "I truly appreciate you. Miss Wintour would have my head if all of our Fashion Week pieces didn't pop off". I chuckled knowing it was absolutely true.

The day zoomed by faster than expected, and I was able to head home to meditate and choose my outfit for the night. There was no way that I would be showing up to a Gucci show in an outfit that was less than perfect, so I spent over an hour rifling through all my clothing pieces until I came up with the perfect outfit: A cheetah print crop top, a mid length leather jacket, low waisted boot cut dark denim jeans, short black demonias with a small thick heel, a Vivienne Westwood pearl necklace and black patent leather Vivienne Westwood mini purse. I stacked a bunch of gemstone rings on my fingers, and put my thick curly hair into a half up, half down leaving a few pieces down in the front to look like bangs. I looked at myself in the mirror again before heading out.

As my town car, paid for by Vogue Magazine, pulled up to the event I started to feel an uneasiness in my stomach. I know I'm an amazing writer, and I've been waiting for a day like this to show Anna Wintour that I can do so much more for Vogue than write basic articles every week yet here I am panicking when finally faced with the pressure of an exciting assignment. I shook my head to get the self doubting thoughts out of my head. I just have to do what I normally do, there's no need to question the talents I know I have. I thanked the driver and hopped out of the car. Paparazzi filled the streets, and numerous designers and celebrities walked into the building. I followed the flow of traffic and when we entered the room, the runway glowed. I stared around in awe at the buzz and excitement. I was really here at fashion week. I was greeted by a worker who asked, "Welcome to Fashion Week. What's your name? I'll point you to your seat". "My name is Eden Viotto. I'm with Vogue Magazine". She looked down at her paper, nodded, and motioned for me to follow her. I was expecting to be brought to a back row, but I saw my name plastered on a front row seat. "Okay here's your seat. Enjoy the show!" the worker said kindly before rushing off to help someone else. 

The show didn't start for a few more minutes, so I pulled out my notebook and started to jot down introductory notes about the preshow activities I was seeing. I got a bit lost in describing the amazing scenery all around me, but I suddenly felt a presence as someone sat next to me. I turned to the side and let out a small gasp before saying, "Finn Wolfhard?". He laughed a bit and nodded before reaching out his hand, "Yeah, and what's your name?" I shook his hand firmly and responded, "I'm Eden Viotto. I'm a reporter for Vogue. I'm honestly surprised they let me sit in the front row and sit next to a celebrity at that". "Is it your first time at Fashion Week?" he questioned. "Yeah, I got assigned the Gucci show. Do you come every year?". "I actually was supposed to be in L.A. doing press, but a good friend of mine is in the show and she got me a ticket. None of our other friends could make it so I figured I'd come and support her". I smiled at how kind he was and sighed a bit wishing I had friends as supportive as that, or friends at all. The show started after that, and the lights dimmed.

During the show I scribbled non stop, making sure to get every piece of information I could to make my article perfect. There was zero room for error with this assignment. After the show ended, Finn and I stood up and he said "I have a backstage pass, and I'm pretty sure they'd let you back there with me if I asked. Did you want to come meet my friend? It might be great for your article". I squealed in excitement "yes yes YES! That would be amazing thank you Finn". He laughed a little at my reaction and led me towards the backstage section.

 A bunch of models and interns were running around, clothing racks were lined up everywhere, and the buzz was still in the air even after the event was over. "Finn!" a dark haired model yelled and ran up to him with arms stretched out. They hugged for a bit and then she turned to me with a sweet smile asking "Who's this?". That's when I recognized her. Orion Carloto. I knew of her from the poems she used to write. Before journalism I was very into poetry. "Hey. I'm Eden Viotto. I'm writing for Vogue and Finn was kind enough to bring me back here. I've read a lot of your work by the way, you're an amazing poet. You looked great in the show as well." Orion blushed a bit before responding, "You're a writer too, that's awesome. I'm glad you liked the show. How's your article coming along?". "Not to brag, but I think it will be one of the best ones for this year's fashion week. Especially if you let me ask you a few questions to top it all off" I winked playfully causing Finn and Orion to laugh. I spent a few minutes asking Orion some questions but then she had to leave to finish cleaning up her section.

"If you ever come to L.A. you should totally stay with me. I have a guest bedroom because my old roommate moved out a few months ago. I wish you the best on your article and I'll be waiting for it to come out!" She waved and walked away, disappearing into the mess of models and workers rushing around. I turned to Finn, "I should head out now too so I can get this article finished and sent to Anna Wintour tonight". His face looked shocked, "your deadline is tonight? That's a bit absurd. When will you sleep?" I chuckled, "The deadline is the end of the week, but I have everything I need already, and I want my article to be in first so that Anna can spend the most time reading it. It also looks better that I got it done so quickly. Plus, who needs sleep when you have Red Bull?" "You sound just like my friends. Good luck on your article, I'm going to wait for Orion. Get home safe Eden!". I waved goodbye to Finn and walked out to my town car. That was the absolute best night of my life. 

The second I got home, I sat down, checked the clock, chugged a Red Bull and started typing away. It was 11:47 pm when I began, and when I finished the article along with the multiple proof reads it was 3:55 am. Before heading to bed, I sent a copy of my article to Anna and Kathy. All I could hope for now is that they loved it as much as I did.