In my profession as a fashion editor, I often find myself occupying two very different worlds without delay. The more extravagant, most photogenic parts of my existence coexist with deadlines, bills and grocery shopping (i.e., the very un-Instagrammable bits). It’s common for me to rub shoulders with royalty, billionaires and Oscar winners at an industry event then take the night bus home. I'm each an insider and an outsider, a participant and an observer. The surreal is by now completely abnormal.
In Paris in July, as probably the most recent round of high fashion collections was unveiled, that surrealism was amplified. Real life and pure fashion fairy tale felt concurrently further apart and more enmeshed than ever.
Because there, as dresses priced...
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