Catwalk by Deborah Gregory

Author:Deborah Gregory [Gregory, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-375-89747-4
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2011-09-27T04:00:00+00:00

FASHION INTERNATIONAL 35th ANNUAL CATWALK COMPETITION BLOG

New school rule: You don’t have to be ultranice, but don’t get tooooo catty, or your posting will be zapped by the Fashion Avengers!

TAKE IT TO THE BRIM …

Some of my friends in my neighborhood out on Long Island give me static about being in the mix at F.I. As a matter of fact, I don’t even say the name of my school when talking to my skateboarding brethren, because I don’t want to deal with their raised eyebrows and silly smirks. Since the news circulated around the bushes that I’m competing in something called the Catwalk competition, names like “Sissy-rella” and “primping pimp” have been flying around my hat, attempting to make a landing too frequently for my fly tastes.

I also know that right across the street from F.I., the dogs at D.T. (don’t see any reason to spell out that school name, either) are barking big-time about the male students at F.I. Personally, I think they should stop with the haterade conventions and focus on student amalgamation that would force D.T. school officials to lighten up on their constricting dress code. I would have a problem with attending a school that prohibits me from wearing headgear. I know D.T. isn’t the only one with this kind of crimp in its pimp. My cousin Demeter goes to a school in the UK where you either lose the baseball cap or be moved out of the classroom and taught in isolation. Taking all these creative restrictions into consideration, I feel lucky to be a part of my school. I recognize that I’m a serious sneakerhead, which means I must bring the headgear—always. As a matter of fact, I hope that after hearing about my blog entry, the F.I. faculty will take a cue from Bell Academy in Bayside, Queens (which my younger sister, Olivia, attends—and yes, I come from a big, tight family), by instituting “Crazy Hat Fridays.” At that progressive school, students are encouraged to wear their most creative headgear on a designated day. F.I. was, well, designed for that type of display in creative thinking out of the hatbox.

Wearing lids isn’t about exuding attitude—it’s about claiming your angle with “hattitude.” These days, I’ve been hinged to my mink zebra-striped-brim hat, because my dad made it for me. My dad, Mr. Cronus Artemides, is an old-school tailor in every sense. The man can make a suit that would put the House of Armani out of business. I’m not bragging—this is a serious fact. My father was trained by his grandfather back in Greece. I don’t think you can get that kind of training anywhere else, from what I can see. No disrespect to the fashion design situation here at F.I., either. My father could have been a world-class designer, but he had to raise a family and has been successfully running his own tailor shop for two decades in Manhattan. Unfortunately, with the escalating greed of New York landlords, my father may be forced to take his tailoring skills elsewhere.

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