EXTREME!! (the uncomfortable)

Oh, good old New York. You never fail to surprise me or amaze me. Just when I was beginning to feel like I had slowly but surely transformed into somewhat of a New Yorker (maybe, maybe not, but I was at least at peace with my place in this city), I have an experience that puts me so entirely out of my element that sends me back to where I started. It also re-affirmed the fact that I am not, nor will I ever be a fashionista (something I'm certain I've validated here before). So here's the story:

Yesterday I was invited by my editor at Sheckys (I write beauty/fashion for them, remember, which is a riot to begin with) to go to an editor's "luncheon" in her place. I'd get to eat for free, score a gift bag, and get paid to write up something about the products being shown. I feel i should first clarify by saying that I have NEVER been to one of these "luncheons" and had absolutely no idea what to expect except a bunch of snooty beauty editors who likely were only there for the gift bag. So I arrive at the penthouse suite at the Royalton Hotel in Midtown feeling as cute and as comfortable as i could possibly be in my new Old Navy dress pants and top from the Gap (and yes, Payless flats). I walk inside the gorgeous room (dripping in Kanebo products with a very generous spread of sushi and gourmet sammiches), and there is a line of fashion mavens from the company shilling their goods (Kanebo's new line of facial cleansers) waiting for arrivals. I didn't realize how intimate it would be. They take my coat and very long look up and down at my attire and ask me 3 times who I am and who I'm with. I knew right then that I felt and looked like a fucking black sheep. I shuffled to hide my top (which had somehow lost a major button on the train ride over, leaving my tatas poppin out for all to ogle) and made up some lame excuse about how I was in a rush and asked if there was anything they'd like to show me. So while the other "editors" sat around chatting in their obnoxious "sweater dresses with tights and boots" ensembles (seriously, I am SO OVER THIS LOOK) eating finger food, I was sitting in a room with some uppity Swede who spent the next 20 minutes talking to me about my bad skin, Kanebo products, and plant oils. Needless to say I was extremely out of my element. Then he asked me my name AGAIN and who I was with AGAIN...as if I was a fraud or something. He asked me if I had any questions. I didnt. I had never even heard of fucking Kanebo before yesterday. I told him I was late, he asked if I wanted some sushi, I awkwardly said no and that i had to "split"--yes, i actually said "I gotta split". Ugh. He grabbed a gift bag for me and I hauled ass outta there. I will likely never got back to one of those things ever, ever again.

The upside? I now have a bag full of beauty products that costs more than my rent. No lie. And yes, it does wonders on my skin.