A Day in the Life of a Street Style Photographer

7:18 a.m.: NO.

7:19 a.m.: More sleep. Please. Victoria Beckham can wait?

7:36 a.m.: Well, now I’m really going to be late. Pants, you can do this. Get. On. Me.

8:44 a.m.: Pants are on, I’m in need of coffee and I took yet another wrong turn trying to get to this show. (I’m supposed to be shooting the models in hair and makeup backstage.) The financial district is so confusing.

9:45 a.m.: The good news: I got coffee, mini banana nut muffins, and Sunday Riley face oil backstage. The bad news: I assumed makeup would be on fashion time. It wasn’t. It was on real time. I got, like, 5 good shots before they kicked me out. The silver lining: David Beckham brushed by me.

10:24 a.m.: There are so many tourists outside the show. It’s impossible to move around and everyone is bumping into me, so I post up on a post (ha) and let the well-dressed come to me. It’s working.

12:03 p.m.: I’m sitting at the Ace Hotel waiting for my friend Emilia Petrarca. (She works at W now but used to intern with me back in the day at MR.) I actually don’t think I’ll be able to stand up. My body is doing funny things that involve creating extra strong gravitational forces. I probably need to eat lunch, but how do I get someone to bring it to me? Oh, right, I go to a restaurant.

2:30 p.m.: I left Hood by Air early to race back to the office to prep Leandra’s Day in the Life photos. What is it with downtown locations using tourist destinations? It’s so crowded. After dealing with this yesterday and the day before (and the day before that), I’m feeling pretty damn fine about hopping into a cab and high-tailing it to the office.

4:27 p.m.: I’ve been at my desk for two hours, drank a green smoothie, and now I need a nap. I’m currently editing my photos from yesterday and cannot believe there’s more tonight, but I think that’s why Amelia says this week’s a marathon, not a sprint. Still, I’m excited for Eckhaus Latta tomorrow. (Does that mean I’m getting in shape?)

8:30 p.m.: Home. I’m listening to music. Specifically, John Prine. I ordered a pizza and ate half then washed it down with an ice-cold beer. My pants are unzipped and I’m struggling to stay upright (and create coherent sentences). Remind me to set my alarm…

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