NYFW: DAY THREE

Last day, best day?

Day three brought two shows: Altuzarra and Prabal Gurung. Two absolute legends in fashion design and brands I’ve followed, studied, and admired for years. Walking into the day knowing I’d be part of both felt surreal.

Altuzarra’s call time was 9AM sharp. After two full days of shows, I’d grown close with a handful of other dressers, and we had naturally fallen into rhythm, helping each other zip, steam, and pin when necessary. Altuzarra began like the others. I was assigned a model, reviewed her look carefully, fabric, fastenings, shoes, and waited for her to come in for shoe rehearsal. The final three looks of the show featured these extraordinary skirts with dramatic, weighted trains - architectural and structured. They were stunning but difficult to maneuver. The backstage manager began asking for additional dressers to assist with movement during lineup and walkouts. I was asked to help.

Being backstage was one of the coolest experiences of my life. More intimate and more a part of something greater than myself. Before the runway even began, we had already completed four photoshoots and backstage documentation, designer walk-throughs, last-minute adjustments, press captures.

I chatted with the team and models for about an hour while we waited. The show itself ran twice, one presentation for clients, press, and celebrities, and another for family and friends of the house. Watching the walks felt like witnessing history being made. The first carried the sharp focus of buyers and editors; the second felt warmer, celebratory.

I was able to step out and watch portions of both runways, which felt like a full-circle moment seeing the garments I had just handled, adjusted, and carried move exactly as intended under the lights.

Next was Gurung.

Prabal Gurung has designed for some of the largest cultural stages in the world - red carpets, political milestones, global moments where fashion becomes statement. His call time was 2PM, which left me exactly one hour between shows to find food, reset, and switch gears. Fashion Week math is ruthless.

I arrived early, which gave me time to take in the runway before the chaos began. The venue was Cipriani in the Financial District just steps from the bull and it felt cathedral-like in scale. Vaulted ceilings, dramatic height, the kind of architecture that makes everything feel ceremonial. The lighting cast fusions of purple, red, and gold across the space, bathing the runway in warmth and luxury. It was theatrical without being excessive.

Backstage, I was assigned models #3 and #4 in the lineup. I reviewed their looks carefully - closures, layers, shoe changes, timing. With Gurung, the tailoring and drape are precise; everything needs to sit exactly where it should. The day had taken its toll on some of the dressing team, and a few arrived visibly overwhelmed and underprepared. Backstage is not forgiving when you’re behind. So naturally, everyone steps in. So in addition to my two assigned models, I helped dress about eight others, fastening gowns, adjusting straps, smoothing seams, swapping shoes, tightening corsetry.

The energy before showtime was electric, stylists weaving through racks, hair teams doing final spritzes, someone always calling out “two minutes.” Music testing through the speakers. Steam rising off irons like fog.

Gurung’s show moved so quickly we barely registered it. The first model stepped out, and within what felt like seconds, it was finale lineup. That’s the strange thing about runway: hours of preparation compressed into under fifteen minutes. From backstage, you experience it in fragments - the swell of music, the echo of heels on marble, the rush of fabric as models pivot and then applause.

We transitioned immediately into breakdown mode. Garments were rehung, organized, and prepped for market appointments, accessories accounted for. When I finally left, exhaustion hit in waves. I returned to the same ramen spot from earlier in the week. There’s something comforting about repetition in a city that never slows down.

Back at the hotel, I packed with one eye half-closed. My alarm was set for 2:50AM to make a 6AM flight out of JFK. Fashion Week doesn’t gently release you - it ejects you back into real life.

And that was it. Three days immersed in the heart of the fashion industry and time moved so fast I was back home in Nashville. NYFW is seriously a magical time to gain experience and dive into all things fashion. If you ever get the chance you should do it.