Did I realise that when I woke up in my cosy hotel bed on 11th April that that Tuesday in New York would be a game changer? Definitely not.
If I had I would’ve chosen a better outfit, that’s for sure. I would have been wearing my sparkliest of shoes, brightest of red lipsticks and quirkiest of accessories. Instead I was wearing the infamously dirty (but very much loved) pink adidas gazelle trainers (day 4 of NYC venturing had got the better of my little feet), a boring old t-shirt and a very standard, very predictable, “I want to be comfortable” pair of black skinnies.
Lesson one: Always be prepared. I learned the hard way that you never know who you might bump into.
Did I realise that as I walked around that corner, busy gawking at the film crew in the park that I was about to turn into a flustered fan-girling fool? Definitely not.
If I had, I would have prepared something clever and witty to say. Something that would have led to an amazingly lengthy conversation about her amazing writing career, about my own aspiring writing career, about her INCREDIBLE ability to throw together the most random items of clothing to create something sent from the sartorial heavens, about how she’s my dream shopping partner – believe me, I could go on. There are so many things I’d like to talk to her about but did I use any of the above as an excuse to start a conversation with the one and only Leandra Medine? No, no I did not. Instead, ladies and gentlemen, I stood (at a distance) and stared in awe. I stopped in my tracks and just stood there, watching her like a weirdo on the street. I mean, yes I did sneak a little Instagram video of her but all that did was add to my status as weirdo on the street. Leandra, I’m sorry that I’m such an ignorant little social media creature.
Lesson two, kids: Suck it up and say hi. You never know where it will get you. On that note though, use your common sense in the situation and judge the situ accordingly.
Let’s take into account that this all happened almost two months ago. Almost two months ago I was living my best life in New York and I really wish I hadn’t just reminded myself that that’s how long it’s been since the dreamiest of dreamy trips in my usually, not so dreamy life. In those two months the Leandra Medine/fan girl situation has only worsened. Ask me how many times I’ve replayed that moment in my head. Ask me how many different scenarios I’ve created in how differently it could have gone. Go on, dare ya. At this point I feel like I could write a book about it but that would probably be the tipping point into weirdo stalker land and I’m not a stalker, I swear. I just have an appreciation for Leandra’s work and style. Since the famous spotting moment, I’ve become even more addicted to Man Repeller than I already was… They offer a different kind of editorial. It’s all kept very real, as if you’re having a conversation with friends. There’s no judgement and no pretentious editorial attitude and mostly, a lot of honest writing. If you don’t refresh their feed at least 10 times a day, you should.
Anyway, less of the kiss ass, more of the scene setting of how this fascination has grown (seriously, I’m struggling to find words that don’t make me sound like a stalker but I swear I’m not…). My main fashion loves in life have so far been Carrie Bradshaw (spot the cliche), Lauren Conrad (she was an editorial intern, I’m an editorial intern. It makes sense) and now, Leandra Medine. I’m sure these aren’t people Leandra would necessarily be thrilled to be compared to but what can you do, the fashionable mind respects who the fashionable mind wants to respect and I have justifications for each and every one of them. Having just read Leandra’s book, I can confirm that the Carrie Bradshaw comparison definitely isn’t her fave but we’re here now.
I’m currently on the last few pages of Leandra’s book (Seeking Love, Finding Overalls) and I’m not overly sure what I’ll do once I finish it. Start sending fan mail? At this point I wouldn’t be surprised…
Over and out. Day 2 of getting back out of the blogging rut = complete.