Fashion...rocks?

The phrase "Fashion Rocks" is not one that graced my lips before this fall. The idea was more of an oxymoron than anything else. As a former Sociology/Journalism student from the University of Liberals, "fashion" usually conjured up wafer thin CK models from the 90s or flashbacks of ill-fated Dr. 90201 re-runs. But, like Kate Moss to a pile of coke, I was sucked in to Fashion Rocks by the promise of a free, celebrity-studded concert at Radio City Music Hall and, even more tempting, passes to the after party.
Ok. So I'm shallow.

The show was about 4 hours long and I got a seat close enough to see the creases in Adam Levine's pants (which were also shallow). There we all were: Aerosmith, Fergie, Tommy Hilfiger, J-Lo. It was, against my will, a thrill.

At the after party, dancing my way across a packed Rainbow Room at 1am, sipping a Belvedere & tonic, soaking in lights twinkling through the water around Manhattan, I grabbed onto a piece of what everyone comes to New York City to find: glitz, glamor, sparkle, perfection, magic.

At that moment I felt that, if only for one night, I had made it.


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