What a Start: New York Fashion Week
- Scott Linwell
- Feb 14
- 4 min read
Updated: Feb 15
We just got back from the most magical whirlwind, two electric nights in New York City for Christian Siriano’s show at New York Fashion Week. And what a way to kick off what is shaping up to be the most extraordinary year of our lives.
All of this joy is unfolding thanks to the unbelievable mix of prizes we won on Netflix’s game show What’s in the Box?— travel, music, sports, fashion. A shopping spree in Paris, luxury luggage for our Mediterranean cruise to Spain, Africa, and Portugal. It still feels surreal typing that sentence. This year feels like a glittering gift that just keeps unfolding.
We were also given funds to attend events, and this was one of our dream picks. (Another? Nine Inch Nails in Charlotte the night before we flew to New York, but that’s a story Joey will happily tell later!).
Back to Siriano.
We don’t watch much TV, but when we do, it’s almost always food or design. We’ve watched every season of Project Runway, including Season 4 in 2007 when Christian won, and every season since, especially those where he returned as mentor. Watching his evolution has been inspiring. Watching the art he creates? Pure magic.
Attending a top-level runway show in New York City — front row — for one of our favorite designers? That was never something we imagined would be in our story. Short of winning a game show? Probably not. And yet… here we are. Grateful. Energized. Completely in awe of the fortune that found us this year.
And we almost didn’t make it.
Our entire New York trip revolved around this show, and the after party, but snow and a wildly careless Uber driver who chose an "alternative" route nearly derailed the whole thing. As we sat stuck in traffic at least a mile from the venue, watching our ETA tick later and later, we looked at each other and made a decision.
Open the door. Into the slush. Run.
Spoiler: We made it.
We arrived flushed and breathless, but somehow not sweaty thanks to the freezing air, faces glowing from adrenaline and sheer determination. We smoothed ourselves out, took a breath, and walked inside.
Nothing disappointed.
Front row seats. The buzz of the room. The bold, fearless expressions of fashion everywhere you looked. Every single person showed up to be seen — and it was glorious. Yes, it was surreal spotting Julia Fox, Coco Rocha, Fern Mallis, Whoopi Goldberg, Monica, Leslie Jones, Natasha Lyonne, Uzo Aduba, Taylor Momsen, and Willa Ford just steps away. But beyond the celebrity sightings, the whole room felt alive.
And honestly? Joey styled us, as he has for years, and I felt completely at home.
The show itself was breathtaking. I’m not a fashion critic, so I won’t dissect silhouettes or themes — but as someone who simply loves art and creative expression? It was mind-blowing. The purples (my favorite color!) absolutely thrilled me. And one piece, personal favorite: A semi-sheer embroidered white dress that resembled downy feathers. It was elegance in motion.
But one of my favorite parts of the night was watching Joey.
Fashion is his language. His love. His lifelong study. For nearly three decades, I’ve watched him devour fashion history, learning everything about his favorite designers and houses, tracing creative lineages through the last century. He can spot inspiration in a single stitch.
Seeing him there, immersed in it all, not through a screen, but in the room, was a dream fulfilled. For both of us. But especially for him. And that made it even sweeter.
And then came the after party.
We knew almost nothing about it other than rooftop, undisclosed location, time. That mystery made it even more exciting. After the show, we hurried back to the hotel for a quick costume change, grabbed a bite and a couple mocktails, and headed out for act two.
Whatever I thought it might be — I was wrong.
It was so much more.
We arrived at a buzzing hotel, energy spilling from the lobby into every corner. We were ushered into an elevator with a few familiar faces from earlier. When the doors opened at the top floor… my jaw dropped.
Nearly 360-degree views of lower Manhattan. Glass walls. The city glittering around us like it was part of the décor.
The room filled quickly. The music rose. The energy built. And suddenly it was clear, this wasn’t a polite mix-and-mingle. This was a party. A real one.
Joey has been talking about going out dancing for a while. When we first met, we were always out. Clubs, bars, dance floors — but those places don’t quite exist for us in Charlotte anymore. We’ve been saying we’ll dance again on our upcoming travels… and here we were, unexpectedly warming up in Manhattan.
The dance floor was alive. Conversations were easy. Laughter everywhere. The creative high from the runway had carried straight into the night.
Christian arrived with his entourage not long after we did — models, team, the creative crew. We've been a part of, and produced, quite a few events over the years, and if you’ve ever produced a major event, you know that feeling afterward: that enormous exhale. The release. We could see it in them. Joy. Relief. Celebration. Lots of celebration.
Joey and I stayed on the dance floor, fueled by club sodas and pure happiness.
We’d briefly met Christian earlier, but here we saw the real him, warm, friendly, genuinely hospitable, and absolutely throwing it down on the dance floor. We danced. We mingled. The skyline glowed around us. It felt cinematic and completely real all at once. Perfect.
Hours later, back at the hotel, we collapsed into bed, legs tingling from our snowy sprint, adrenaline still humming from the runway and the dancing. We replayed every moment. How much fun we’d had. How our expectations had not just been met, but joyfully shattered.
We talked about the year ahead: Paris, the cruise, more music, more adventure — and how this night felt like the most beautiful opening chapter. If this was the beginning...
We are so grateful. So amazed. And so ready for what’s next.
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