New Adventures In Fashion

“You just unplugged, and now you’re plugging yourself back in to see if it works,” my friend Laura was saying on Wednesday. She was talking about me and fashion. I wouldn’t exactly put it that way, but it’s true that being in Paris and New York recently, I definitely feel closer to my old world.

Want to know how it feels?

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ON THE STREET, FEELING LIKE AN IDIOT

“Non. Ma. Che! Garance, Garrrrance!!!” I heard the familiar Italian accent behind me as I was walking down the rue de L’Université. I turned around and recognized A., an old friend from fashion who, during all these years, had been so kind, so generous, so wonderful to me that I thought he was too good to be true.

I had been suspicious.

That’s how confused I was by the time I left fashion. The nicer people were with me, the less I trusted them. I hope it helps you understand why I left without saying goodbye. I didn’t know anymore which way was up, and which way was down.

I first felt delight at seeing his face, immediately followed by shame. I hadn’t checked on him for eight years. Eight years, dear reader. WHO DOES THAT? I had muted him—as I had muted absolutely everyone in fashion. I changed phone numbers because I had moved countries, and instantly reduced my social circle to close to nothing.

It was not personal. It was a general, blanket muting of an industry, throwing my hands in the air and saying, “I just can’t.”

I hugged him. I saw his face grimace and tears come from his eyes.

“Garance, oh, I am so happy to see you.”

“I’m sorry I disappeared," I blurted. “How are you?”

“I’ve been through hell, but I’m okay now,” he said. I felt horrible. I had no idea what he was talking about.