So graduation is right around the corner…45 days in fact…and I’m rejoicing. No, plans for afterwards haven’t really, completely, even a little bit, been finalized, but I’m working on it. But instead of going to the obvious choice for this blog post–my recent conquest with Baseball Player–I’m going to tell a funny little tale about my attempt to get a job at a big fancy magazine back in October.

I had made a connection with a fashion editor at a very well-known women’s magazine early last fall.   I informed the editor that I would be in NYC in October and would love to meet with her to just discuss some things and ask basic questions about getting my foot in the fashion door and she happily agreed.  This was never supposed to be an interview.  So we set up a time to meet and I said I’d see her there.

October came and I found myself on a plane early that unseasonably warm day, anxiously waiting to see Doorman and mentally trying to figure out what this meeting with the editor would entail.  I had stupidly/intelligently planned my meeting the same day I flew in to the city.  Stupid because I was tired and just wanted to hang out with Doorman, intelligent because I got it out of the way.

I took the bus from La Guardia into East Harlem and waited next to a Duane Reade for Doorman to find me.  Blah blah blah, this has all already been told here and doesn’t really need to be revisited. Anyway, flash forward 6 hours later…I was freshly laid, properly fed and frantically straightening my hair and reapplying my make up for this meeting. I threw on some skinny-esque jeans, Steven Madden flat boots, and a black sweater…nothing too fancy, this wasn’t an interview after all, but I did look cute.

I asked Doorman how long it would take me to get from his house to the office building and he said it would be a 15 minute train ride, then a transfer and maybe five more minutes.   This office is in a part of town I hate, but am at least familiar with, however subway transfers!?  I hadn’t done that before and didn’t have time to try and figure that out in the middle of one of the biggest subway stations in the city, so I opted to walk the 15 blocks to the office.

I left his house at 3:15, meaning I had 45 minutes to get there, which according to his calculations and adding a bit for walking, should have gotten me there just in time.  Well, the train was running a little behind that day in East Harlem and then I missed the second one I had to transfer to (that I did actually know how to do).  So by the time I emerged back out onto the street again, it was 3:45.  I had 15 minutes to run 15 blocks.  I was in the busiest part of the city, traffic was congested, Japanese tourists were constantly snapping pictures, men dressed as giant Elmos were trying to get my attention and annoying promoters were trying to get people to attend comedy shows.  This was going to be like Frogger, but I didn’t have time to think about it, so I just started running. Thankfully, my boots were flat.

At first the run wasn’t bad. At the time, I had been working out and running 3 miles every day, so the actual running wasn’t hard.  It wasn’t even too horribly hot and people were moving out of the way as I darted past them screaming, “move!”  But after about eight blocks, the heat caught up to me, my face was turning red and my brand new shoes were carving blisters into the backs of my ankles.   I still had seven blocks to go and about 6 minutes to do it in.  In case you sadly aren’t familiar with the greatest city in the world, blocks are pretty freaking big and aren’t the size of average city blocks.  So I just kept on running.  The sweater turned out to be a bad choice, my feet were aching with every step and I could feel my straight hair frizzing.  I was doomed to look like shit for this non-interview yet important meeting.

At two minutes to four, I decided I would call her and let her know I was only three blocks away and hurrying as fast as I can.  However, she didn’t answer and so instead, I left a very strange, frantic message detailing how I knew this was very unprofessional and that I was tragically misquoted on how long it would take me to get there and was literally running as I spoke.

When I was finally one block away my phone rang.  It was one of the editor’s interns calling to let me know that the editor was in a meeting and would be running twenty minutes or so late.  As soon as I heard this, I immediately stopped–my heavy purse not ready for my sudden halt came up and smacked me hard in the shoulder as I attempted to catch my breath and ask for confirmation directions to the right building.  I slowly walked the last block and tried my best to air myself out.

I finally got there and it was biggest building on the block.  It towered above the other corporate buildings and had large, intricate window designs and plaques outside exclaiming just exactly was inside. I attempted to compose myself before I even entered the building, but it almost seemed useless.  By this time, I was beet red with frizzy hair.

I walked inside and went straight to the security desk to let them know who I was, who I was seeing and what time we were supposed to meet, then I was told to go sit down.  I sat in the giant entrance of this prestigious building on a leather bench scavenging through my purse for a mirror, any sort of napkin and lip gloss.  Thankfully, bestfriend had given me a cute heart-shaped Marc Jacobs mirror and I had half a napkin leftover from the plane ride.  While I sat there smearing my eyeliner back into place, fixing my hair and fanning myself, guys delivered David Yurman jewelry, some girl with fantastic shoes and a GIANT Fendi shopping bag left with coworkers, and some guy discussed the buying of an expensive tennis racquet with someone else who had randomly run into meet him.  I was beginning to feel horribly underdressed and out of place and started to panic. Luckily, I still had at least 15 minutes to figure it out.

The 15 minutes turned into 30, which although left me quite bored, allowed me time to get out of Shro Frenzy mode.  Eventually I was informed by security that I would be going up to the office instead of the editor coming down to meet me, WOOORD.  I made my way through the metal detectors and up the shiny escalators, where I found a very strange elevator system.  Once I made it to my designated floor, I had to be let in by an intern and then was escorted back to a meeting room.  The editor arranged it so I could sit and talk with an intern for awhile and see what their day to day was like.  With her she brought the current magazine they were working on and let me flip through it.  The fiirst page I flipped to was a spread on the perfect boots for fall and in the middle were the exact pair I was wearing.  In my sudden excitement, I exclaimed to the intern that I was wearing those boots.

In the end, I had a great meeting with the editor and got a tour of the Closet, which was very exciting and everything seemed like it went well.  She even basically said I could have the position and I was STOKKKKED.  I don’t think there was enough K’s in there to really show how excited I was.  As soon as I left, I called Doorman, my mom and dad and two other friends to tell them all about it.

The Editor and I corresponded over the next few months and for awhile I was offered the position.  Then about two weeks ago, she informed me due to the economy that they were making cut backs and I would no longer have a position in their magazine.  How fantastic.

Considering I didn’t do very much to even get the opportunity to meet with her, I can’t be too bummed, but whenever I think of this story I always laugh because it was very The Devil Wears Prada, except she was wearing Lacoste and wasn’t all that devilish…I was just running in NYC. So maybe it wasn’t The Devil Wears Prada.  Whatever, shut up.

Now I’m waiting to hear back from other magazine internships in NYC and one in Philly. I needz a job, yo.