It’s time I admit it. I used to be an intern at Elle Magazine. There. I said it.
Before you ask, yes, it was exactly like The Devil Wears Prada. I got that straight from one of the assistants in the first 20 minutes of my my first day.
I’m admitting this now because the new season of Project Runway started last night with “Editor at Large” Nina Garcia. I left Elle before the Nina scandal began so I was very curious to see what would happen with her position on Pro Run.
I also left Elle before they started filming for Stylista, the CW gem that will let one lucky girl (or guy) someday attain the position of Joe Zee’s assistant. I know Joe Zee’s current assistant. She works harder than most people I’ve met and I can’t imagine she’s thrilled with the prospect of having to deal with this new “assistant” because in reality this “winner” will most likely get an internship as the assistant to the assistant. Something that most of my fellow interns gained via postings on Ed2010.com. (Which, by the way, is a fabulous site if you happen to be a journ major).
Anyway, I am writing about this now, grossly ahead of the air date, because after 2 months of preview commercials I am thanking God that I got out of there before they let this new cast of divas invade. And I’m sure they’ll all be divas. And I’m also sure that all of their tasks will be nothing like a normal day at Elle.
These fashionista wannabes will, I’m sure, go on photo shoots and assist with run-throughs. But was that what really happened behind the scenes? Well sure, I went to a photo shoot or 2. But on the way there I went uptown and downtown about 13 times to pick up and drop off purses, shoes, dresses and jewelry worth more than my college education. I also took the coats of the rich and fabulous.
I went on lunch runs to Pret, Hale & Hearty and a variety of other venues throughout the city. I pushed a trunk through Times Square and ran over no less than 7 tourists. I was honked at, catcalled and whistled at while running errands in short skirts and tight tights…until of course I abandoned the “proper” garb for the practical. When assembling racks and packing suitcases for photo shoots in China, Canada and Pier 59, Chuck Taylors and jeans are all you need.
But it wasn’t all bad. I have more free lingerie than I know what to do with. An assortment of bath products and even swimwear. And I get to put one of the premiere fashion magazines in the country on my resume. Oh, and I made some pretty fabulous friends.
So why, now, after all this time am I finally admitting it? Because in a few short months they are going to debut that Stylista crap and if I happen to catch an episode of those squealing, Top Model rejects, I may not live to see another day. And neither will my TV set.