The IDM. (theotherversion)

El siguiente texto es una transcripcion de lo que escribí el 23 de sept en el International Designers Mexico. Un evento de moda internacional. Está en inglés, no se porqué. El 90% fué escrito en el lugar. 1a persona.

I got there, it was easier and quicker than I expected, even easier than other places that I used to had tickets. I´ve been to this place for a lot of times, but today it was different, I couldn´t recognize anything. For the first time of the night I felt like an outsider because I was…Regular clothes interacting with complex fashion statements. I can´t imagine what there´s to come.
I expected so see some weird things and I haven´t been dissapointed. Mainly common people trying to look for attention at any cost, specially with their clothes.
I´m not going to lie, I want this “show” to turn up bad; a model falling, a designer who can´t take bad reception, anything could happen, but i´t won´t, it´s “international” and everything is calculated, at least that´s what it looks like.
This one, was one of those places where you don´t expect to see anyone familiar. (maybe fall in love just once or twice, nothing special).
This was my first fashion design event. Everything look weird to me, like when you go to a theater and see a lot of people moving and working in things you don´t even notice. I don´t no why, but I thought something out of ordinary was about to happen.
Expectation for the runway… a lot of laughs.
The place started to get slowly kinda crowded. Many “ lowcase” girls who buy “fine clothes” for ocassions like this. Too pretentious, you can barely see their nature.
It´s funny how people change given the right circumstances. The person you meet at school, at the bus stop, is not the same when he/she supposed to look glamorous, to show off. It´s also funny how glamour changes everything, just a few months at this same spot I was headbanging my ass off while watching Mastodon. No place for that today. No place for mistakes. It was their night for every second.
I am not complaining at all, I was enjoying of nice wax statues. This I repeat was not a complain. I was next to the bar, but I was also broken. Should have brought some candy.
It´s interesting when you see things you are not supposed to; the backstage, a girl doing her heavy makeup or changing clothes. You are not supposed to look , but this morbid feeling challenges you constantly, until you are to evident to keep looking.
There was still no access and I was standing next to the entrance.
I have nothing against gay people, but sometimes my respect and sense of moral gets pushed by this “guys”. I bet security people laughed constantly (inside) at this people.
Feathers and shiny clothes are welcome here.
The media: sometimes you just don´t know if they are doing there work or just love to be more mordib that the average people, having access to all of it.
Some people go first, others like me wait. Not in a line, but more like in club format thing. To my logic that night, people with cool outfits and important papers go first.
I was wearing some jeans, a black hoodie, and a shirt I made that entitles: “you are not the clothes you were” in honor to Mr. Durden. I was just a regular guy, in a place full of people hungry for fame and attention.
Sometimes I could not understand how women where so in love with clothing, maybe they love the aftermath of it, like driving a man mad with their lust and intuition. I wish I had a camera to take pictures of the things that I liked and the many I disliked for example: the Argentine assholes standing next to me while I write this.
20 min. After the planned stuff. I can no longer distinguish models from “normal people” I´ve always thought that women with to much makeup look hideous, the one standing next to me was not an exception.
As I entered I realized I was lost again. A girl comes and helps me, and I sit at a nice place. I still can´t believe how different this place looks. For some reason I thought of a futuristic circus. I wished I was not alone, and had someone to complain and laugh at all the things that were happening.
Jorge Diep was the first designer. Including his name in this text matters? I don´t know. No comments about his clothing.
The second runway was better. I found a friend I had noticed before. We mainly talk about nonsense things. He invites me to this “cool” spot, I quickly drink 2 glasses of wine, and eat some food I will never taste again in my life.
It´s weird seeing celebrities, but I am dead serious when I say that I have seen beautiful women on the runway. I almost can´t believe it, such beauty and confidence in front of me. For some reason I ended in the first to rows. Powerful lights, admiration and glamour. I felt out of place more than ever.
Hats off to real/rare and exquisite models.
Paola Hernandez is the 3rd, and last (for me). Her collection was interesting.To be honest it was the only one with a noticeable speech. I used to know her sister. She was there. I felt proud for her family.
The show keeps going on. I walk away and drive at top speed.