In this report, Teen Vogue's Aiyana Ishmael investigates the state of fashion week, speaking with writers, content creators, and publicists to learn how things have changed.
In 2021, trend forecaster and cofounder of K-HOLE consulting agency Sean Monahan, published a Substack titled “Vibe Shift.” It pinpointed the cultural inflection when trends inevitably phase in and out of relevance. Think of it as the Y2K resurgence that eerily became indie sleaze and beyond. Monahan outlined the vibe shift as the clash between personal taste and trending aesthetics, which often means many individuals are “left behind” sartorially. Not everyone survives the vibe shift — it's our prerogative to catch up or stay complacent in what was.
Across social media platforms, creatives, influencers, and fashion insiders alike are proclaiming the death of New York Fashion Week. However, NYFW isn’t dead; it’s just experiencing an expected vibe shift. As capitalism ravages our needs as a country, producing a runway show in recent seasons for US-based designers has become more reliant on gimmicks and ostentatious marketing.
Every September and February, fashion editors, buyers, celebrities, and influencers make their way to Manhattan in their finest outfits and heels — or, if you’re an editor, your most walkable, subway-friendly shoes. It’s the biannual fashion marathon, filled with several shows a day and endless lingering street style photographers.
It used to be that runway shows allowed buyers and editors to get front-row access to a designer's collection. Now, in the age of social media and influencers, runway shows have cemented themselves as a necessary spectacle. How many important people can you pack into a room before it becomes a safety hazard? Do we have the most star-studded front row? Do these celebrities represent our brand? Do our clothes make journalists want to write about us?
Last September, TikTok creators released the contact information for several fashion publicists in hopes of giving everyone access to attend the shows, which led to mass email overload and extended lines. Years of exclusivity in the fashion industry and social media have played a defining role in the evolution of the coveted runway-show invite. What was once a mandatory task for journalists and retail buyers is now a ticket on the clout train that so many people are chasing.
Several fashion insiders have shared the sentiment that fashion week needs to get back to fashion. Please, no more gimmicks or extravagant and inaccessible venues. They want to write obsessively about fashion, beauty, and clothes. As the late André Leon Talley said, “There is a famine of beauty.”
Fashion writer Kanika Talwar understands the role social media plays in access to the industry. As a young woman of color navigating the space, her online presence has been beneficial career-wise. “But it can get tiresome watching the facade put on,” she tells Teen Vogue. “There’s so much entitlement surrounding attendance and getting invitations to shows or events. I feel like I always ask this question, ‘Are you here to see or to be seen?’”
“Brands can spend upwards of six figures to put on these runway shows,” Talwar continues. “I’m going there to enjoy, dissect, and soak in the entire experience of the show. I feel extremely privileged and honored to be part of a small group of people asked to attend designer shows. I don’t care about being photographed — I’m not dressing in a certain way to get street-style photographed — and I don’t care to be seen mingling with certain crowds because it makes me feel cooler or to prove that I exist in the industry. I’m not looking for that sort of validation people often seek.”
But Instagram posts and TikTok videos are social currency in this day and age. While Talwar has yet to change how she interacts with fashion week, she’s noticed an uptick in the social media presence of others in hopes of obtaining invitations. It’s all a key part of trying to exist in the fashion world.
“Not long ago, I only interacted with runways as a series of images on Vogue Runway,” says fashion writer Jake Smith. “Videos, backstage images, and other snippets show garments in motion and provide some necessary context. We're writers and editors, but we're also being thrust into the role of influencers — posting through fashion week is a necessity. Aren't we all performing a bit of a character for our followers? Slipping into the role of fashion girlie is so fun, at least for a week.”
Notably, Instagram is the highlight reel, where we are fed the best of people: Their wins, access, and front-row seats are all at our fingertips. It's a necessary evil, but it can be overwhelming every September and February for several early-career journalists.
“Social media during fashion week is a double-edged sword,” fashion editor Kayla Curtis-Evans says. “It definitely has a larger presence now. I can appreciate the idea of fashion week becoming more accessible if it means that it’s less intimidating for those who have aspirations to join. Still, social media makes me a lot more anxious. It’s hard not to compare schedules or events when they are all posted online. Sometimes, I wish we could see less of what everyone else is doing at all times.”
Fashion month, in general, has become a clear baseline for those working on it to learn where they stand. Using invites as a determining factor for self-worth might seem vapid, but the internet makes it easy to connect the two. “Social media blows up the comparison game 10,000 percent,” says fashion writer Sarah, whose name has been changed to protect her privacy. “I’ll look at women who have years on me in the industry at their ridiculously cool events and fashion shows and admire them from afar but also wonder why I’m not there, too. But when I take a second to think cognitively about it, after I tear my eyes away from the glamour-splashed screen, I remember that so many amazing things have happened to me this year as well.” Sarah adds, “Who knows what wonderful things I’ll get to experience, similar to the incredible women I look up to, when I reach their level of expertise in the industry?”
While that pressure of importance does exist, many editors know what it means to be on the outside looking in. Sam Olson, an editor at Cosmopolitan magazine, shares a ton of “Get Ready With Me” content on TikTok during fashion month, mainly as an information tool for other young people hoping to enter the industry. She also acknowledges that it's necessary in the current digital landscape of hypervisibility. “In a way, we’re a vehicle of access for people who aren’t typically in these spaces,” Olson explains, “who probably have goals similar to our own. I’m all for sharing our experiences on socials for the sake of research and opening the floor for new perspectives. These days, I post less on feed and more on Stories for quick glimpses, and I typically wait until after events are over to do so. Because I want to be present and in the moment, but it’s also a safety precaution for me and other attendees.”
While the overload of access and information shared online can be frustrating for editors, it's an opportunity for photographers to build their portfolios and grow their careers. “Social media in conjunction with fashion week, in terms of buzz, has had an uptick,” street style photographer Martin Romero says. “Fans announce show details, and venues. I love and hate it at the same time: That's how I started, figuring out the details on social media by connecting with people; on the other hand, with show venues announced on social media, it can get chaotic with the crowd turnout. It can take a lot of work to photograph the people you need to take pictures of.”
Romero adds, “But it forces me to do better. It's exhilarating and feels more fulfilling if you can snap a great photo with the crowd.”
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Fashion influencers have been around since the early aughts. The meaning of their “name” has evolved over the years — from socialites to bloggers — and more recently, because of apps like TikTok, their presence at fashion week can be inflammatory to editors. For those who are there to simply do their job, it can be exhausting watching someone who has been given more resources and fewer constraints take up more space. But it’s all part of the changing world. There are celebrities, then influencers, then media.
Influencers play a major role in marketing for brands, especially from an online perspective. TikTok creator Alix Earle can post about a single item and, ultimately, sell it out. As we fight to meet our financial needs as an industry, it’s easy to focus on what might work best, such as a creator who can shout you out on the spot versus an article that appears in a publication a week later.
“Some brands are much more influencer heavy, other brands are more celebrity heavy, but anytime I think about a front row, I never want to stick to just fashion people because the whole point of doing a show nowadays — it's not always for the buyers, even for the editors — it's to actually expand your community via social press,” publicist Savannah Engel says of putting on a fashion show. Engel, who represents PatBo, Markarian, and Cavanagh Baker, has a modern stance on press. “The viral sensation that shows can get is way more important… it’s more important than a publication review.”
“We rely on the virality that we can get from our shows,” she continues. “And that's even from a sponsorship perspective. Sponsors have an ROI (return on investment) and the ROI that they used to have when it was on TV and all that kind of stuff doesn't exist anymore. So what can a sponsor get out of it? It's social press. It's that engagement.”
Media insiders respect the influencer’s craft, but it gets complicated when creators care less about fashion and more about the spotlight. So while their presence at shows can often have a direct impact on sales, their opposing stance in the industry can get overwhelming for media people.
On average, brands can earn $5.78 for every dollar spent on influencer marketing. According to Influencer Marketing Hub, many marketers also agree that influencers are effective at generating higher ROI and greater value for their brand. Now that runway shows have taken on a skewed level of importance, many brands are looking for that immediate return on investment through their front row. That can be frustrating for writers and editors who are there to do a job.
“I can't see anything over their iPhones recording everything,” commerce writer Iman Balagam says. “This is nothing against TikTokers; I understand why they're there, and I've also befriended many of them. But I think it always boils down to the press vs. influencer battle. They make 10 times more money than we do, and now they also get access to something that was once gatekept.”
Balagam adds, “Another thing that feels unsettling is when the same PR people who ask you every week to get coffee or lunch are suddenly ghosting you or saying they'd love to have you at the show but can’t swing it, while a random influencer from Idaho is there.”
Several editors feel that many influencers attending fashion week don't truly understand the magnitude of the events they’re at — or if they even care to try. “Oftentimes, people gain a following and become influencers because they like shopping, not because they understand fashion," says Sarah. "It’s a stark contrast from the people who study the art of it and dedicate their careers to it in one capacity or another. It’s just different. There’s a disconnect there.”
Long-time fashion publicist and founder of People’s Revolution, Kelly Cutrone works with a lot of young, rising designers and often suggests that unless her clients have access to celebrities or influential people, it’s best to worry less about a punchy front row.
“The front row has changed not only with talent, but with editors as well,” she tells Teen Vogue. “There aren’t as many fashion star editors anymore. It used to be that the editors were the celebrities in the front row. Then there were a few celebrities next to them and that’s how the front row went.”
Cutrone continues, “It’s insane when you’re supporting these young designers and seeing how much money and dreams are involved with putting on a show, and then you see these ‘influencers’ who come in and mess it all up because they think it's all about them.”
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September can be unbearably hot in New York City. February can be tragically cold and snowy. These two extremes consistently play a role in show attendance. This past NYFW was plagued by wet-weather issues: Governors Island, home to several shows this season, had one during a severe weather alert. And when there wasn't a torrential downpour, there were heat advisories and air conditioner-less showrooms.
Beyond the weather, the rising cost of Ubers for editors during the month has reduced the appeal of attending multiple shows a day. “No location is worth trekking across the whole city,” Balagam says. “Designers need to settle on one neighborhood a day. It's nearly impossible to get to the back-to-back shows; everything runs late, and we're spending so much money that we don't have on Ubers because it totally sucks being on the subway in a Rhode gown and heels — something I had to do.”
Balagam adds, “So many presentations and shows were held in rooms without AC, which was brutal. I understand chasing a vibe, but no vibe is worth every attendee using your info sheet as a makeshift fan.”
Bryant Park, the central show location from 1993 to 2010 under the Council of Fashion Designers of America (CFDA), is now considered a dream. Other cities like Seoul stick to a central location, which has been helpful for editors who travel internationally.
“People talk about the [Bryant Park] tents now the way we talk about Studio 54,” Fern Mallis, the former CFDA executive director (91-2001) and senior VP of IMG Fashion tells Teen Vogue. “You had to be there to appreciate and understand it. Most people have incredible special memories of how convenient it all was.”
“It’s now evolved into what I think is complete chaos,” Mallis continues. “This season hit a breaking point. People really got frustrated. You were forced to decide what shows you want to see just because of the locations. Lots of young designers get lost in the shuffle because you want to go to the ones you know, the big shows, so you skip ones that aren't quite as important because you know you'll never get there on time.”
And while Mallis agrees designers should have creative authority over their location if they’re using a venue to tell their story, she also believes there needs to be more consideration for the people viewing said story.
“I love any show location that actually adds a facet to the story the designer is trying to convey with the collection,” Curtis-Evans says. “A great example of this at this season’s New York Fashion Week was Kim Shui, who held her spring-summer ’24 runway show at Barbetta, the oldest Italian restaurant in NYC. Her collection was about honoring her origins, and she grew up in Italy, so I just loved that throughline. Seoul Fashion Week, on the other hand, hosts all of its shows at the same location, which is an editor’s dream. Maybe we could take a page out of their book.”
Because of TikTok and Instagram, the number of VIPs has exceeded capacity. Notably, editors are placed in the front row, but because of the social media expansion, placements changed this season, and media folk have noticed.
“There were so many editors and writers sitting in the second and third row,” editor and content creator Venesa Coger says. “A seat is a seat, so I'm not one to complain, but I will say there were people who were very rude about seating. People were sitting in others’ assigned seats, which was quite frustrating and tacky to witness.”
The front row has always been the standard, but adding the social media aspect plays a more significant role in people’s visibility. Show footage is bound to go viral, a la Coach, and its PETA disruption. There’s more lasting proof of placement, and existing visually in the background — or the second or third row — for the world to see is a thought on the mind of a lot of people in media. It shouldn’t matter, but it does.
Beyond the shows are the after-parties, with similar categories denoting respect. As someone constantly entering alongside his clients, Publicist Matthew Cancel knows what the scene can look like. He’s dealt with various energies at these events and unnecessary power trips. Fashion is exclusionary. There is no way around it. The industry’s layered existence is deeply rooted in creating hype through exclusion. If everyone could obtain it, it wouldn’t be desirable.
“Too many people get caught up in the power they have in the moment and don’t focus on the legacy they leave behind,” Cancel says. “I remember every single person who has treated me poorly and who has handled situations with disrespect. We’re watching clothes go down a runway, for God’s sake. We all need to find the fun within fashion week again.”
Cancel continues, “I see the girlies who work incredibly hard but don’t take it too seriously, like myself and those who treat this like it’s the Marines. Trust me, I used to be in a very toxic relationship with fashion week. In the end, it’s not worth it. Your mental health, personal life, and well-being are not worth 10 years of a $42,000 salary. There’s more to life than fashion. I wish someone had told me that at 23.”
While the energy surrounding fashion week has changed, so much good happens before, during, and after designers present their collections on the runway. “A lot of PR people, plus the CFDA, got more strict with how invitations were handled,” Talwar says. “Lindsay Media was smart and had people fill out a Google form with who they were and what shows they requested, instead of sending out a general ‘I’m interested in coming’ email. The CFDA also stopped putting PR email lists on their website and had press input their information for accreditation, similar to how the British Fashion Council, Camera Nazionale della Moda Italiana Council, and Fédération de la Haute Couture et de la Mode in Paris operate.”
After last year's fiasco of publicist information being traded on TikTok, many brands in New York are slowly catching up to how other cities are handling show requests.
Fashion writer Ty Gaskins credits the important back-end work to PR agencies like Lede, Karla Otto, KCD, and Lucien Pages. “They’re a huge driving force behind the scenes of these brands,” he says.
Writers and editors have repeatedly noted how vital a PR agency is to the run of a show. Editors applauded Gia Kuan for her press line, which might seem minor but was necessary, as the competing line was packed and the media line was empty. Easy entrance for editors makes a huge difference.
“This season made it clear that Lindsey Media has fashion week down to a science,” Smith says. “The entire team is a delight. I'm also consistently blown away by Gia Kuan’s shows.”
Lindsey Solomon of Lindsey Media notes that a well-run fashion event comes down to managing expectations and ensuring people are aware of their role. No matter how small the role, everyone plays a part in producing the monster. “I could go on and on about the value but also the responsibility that comes with having volunteers because, ultimately, I can't micromanage everyone,” Solomon says. “They need to know their role and what protocol and how to solve problems on the spot. It's my team's job to think of every possible scenario and have a solution — have an intern sit in a VIP seat until they show up, text the editor who's running late for an ETA, and make sure check-in is efficient.”
Smith says there is definitely a vibe shift happening with New York Fashion Week, specifically, but not in the way alarmists are casting it. “If anything, NYFW is in a transitional period. Look closely, the vibe shift is just a new vanguard of local designers finding their footing. Wiederhoeft, Dauphinette, Sandy Liang, Eckhaus Latta, Area, Bad Binch TongTong, Collina Strada, and Luar all brought spectacle and substance in their own way this season,” he points out.
“I’d also argue that Tory Burch, Christian Siriano, and Proenza Schouler, among others, now deserve the helm of legacy labels that know how to put on a great show,” Smith adds. “The point is, we’re in the throes of change both on the designer and attendee sides, but New York’s unique spark, its essence, won’t change. Send in the influencers, shrink the schedule, and bring on the TikToks — NYFW will be just fine. The sublime exists everywhere you look.”
Complaining can be cathartic. Sharing the exasperation is part of the game. While editors continue to voice their concerns, we’re all still along for the turbulent ride. “I was personally so excited about attending NYFW,” Balagam says. “But everyone around me was like, 'It sucks compared to how it used to be.’ Everyone seems to be ‘done with it,’ yet at the same time, they're waiting in line for hours to get in, which is the essence of the city in many ways.”
Fashion writer Frances Solá Santiago doubled down, “Personally, I think a lot of my fantasies about fashion week have burst, which I believe is a natural progression of being in the industry. I try to approach it as a hectic work week rather than this overhyped, glamorous event, which has helped me navigate it,” Adding, “I think it's disrespectful to [young designer's] talent for people to say that ‘New York Fashion Week is dead.’ There are [designers] here that are trying, and that should count for something — especially when so much of the power comes from above.”
For many industry folks, this is no longer the dream job. It’s the job they love, and show up for, but that’s it. The rose-colored glasses toward fashion month are off, and that’s for the better, especially when coming to terms with what once was and now is.
