4:30 p.m. and no earlier, I walked into the tent. Lights were blinking as a photographer clicked away on his camera, taking a picture of a woman. I didn’t recognize her, but nonetheless, I managed to get into the background of two of his pictures. I continued walking and I passed a Sephora stand on my right and noticed an Evian bar on my left. Cute, I thought, as the irony of models and water, and the importance of having an Evian bar at Fashion Week came to my mind.

Finally, I reached the line of people waiting to get into the fashion show. Even as an "invited" standing room only guest, I had to wait in line. There was another line for the seated guests who represented all of the prominent fashion magazines, celebrities, important political-invites and friends of friends.

I stood with a new assertive-ness, as I realized that I was in. I made it. No problem. Now all I had to do was wait for them to open the red rope that separated me from one of the most anticipated shows of the year.

More people began to fill this area. I held my head high, and noticed a woman in a Betsey Johnson silver lame jumpsuit coupled with gold, glittery sandals that would have made Sarah Jessica Parker’s character in Sex in the City squeal with joy. I was in my element, I thought with a smile.

5:00 p.m., my shoulders began to ache, as my messenger bag weighed down on my body. I had been standing in line for over 30 minutes waiting to be amongst the anointed allowed to enter. Most of those who were in the seat assignment line had been seated, comfortably preparing to see the latest fashions.

The security guard motioned for a few people in the front of the line to come with him. But then he stopped after admitting four people. Oh well, I thought, he’ll get me next time. After all, TeenSpeak had been promised admission for one reporter, and that reporter was me.