A stern-eyed procession of teens paraded through an evening rain at a small fashion show in Lower Manhattan, causing a mixture of delight and bewilderment among passersby who witnessed the spectacle.
As techno music blared, teen after teen stopped to pose for cameras in a cordoned-off area of Gansevoort Plaza in the meatpacking district. Upon their return to a tent area, they exchanged hugs and high fives with their fellow models. Couples dining at Serafina and posh women heading to Pastis did double.
Wasn’t New York Fashion Week just in September? And why did the audience cheer with the abandon typical of parents at a graduation ceremony?
Coincidentally, the event that took place last Wednesday evening was a kind of graduation ceremony: this was the annual catwalk show for the upper classes of the High School for Fashion Industriesthe only trade-based public school in New York City dedicated to fashion.
Established in the 1920s as a vocational institution, the school occupies an old Art Deco style building in Chelsea, and the students prepared for evening, the high point of the school year, with the same intensity required for producing the Marc Jacobs fashion week closing show.
Tyrone and Marlene Jackson had come to the show from the Jamaican neighborhood of Queens to support their daughter Mia, a senior who plans to attend the Fashion Institute of Technology.
“We knew she was talented from the moment she started drawing on the couch at age 3,” Ms Jackson said. “Fashion Industries prepared her for the future.”
“People only hear about LaGuardia,” she continued, referring to the Fiorello H. LaGuardia High School of Music & Art and Performing Arts, “but this school is New York’s best-kept secret. On this show, the children show their presents.”
The event, an annual tradition dating back to the 1940s, is the High School of Fashion Industries’ equivalent to a homecoming football game. It is intended as a showcase for the looks created by seniors in the school’s fashion design program. This year’s theme, “The Elemental Ball,” encouraged designs that evoke nature.
Nearly everyone in the school participates: freshmen volunteer as models, sophomores work as makeup assistants, and juniors serve as runway photographers. The school even offers a modeling workshop to teach students how to bring brutality to their runway moves.
The stakes felt higher this year. Until this spring, the show always took place on a runway in the school auditorium. Now the students were showing their creations in public — in a trendy neighborhood with strong ties to the fashion community, no less — thanks to a partnership with the local Business Improvement District association.
These were the same cobblestones that Carrie Bradshaw once climbed on her early morning walks back home after going out. And this was the site of last year’s Vogue World, a fashion extravaganza presided over by Anna Wintour who attracted some of the biggest names in fashion (Balenciaga, Dior, Gucci) and its most devoted followers and ambassadors (Serena Williams, Gigi Hadid, Lil Nas X).
For the seniors of the High School of Fashion Industries, the Vogue World connection loomed. For the participants, the chance to show their garments in the same venue as the Vogue event brought a sense of fantasy and affirmation. Just before the students hit the runway, Aiamdra Estrella, who plans to attend Queens College, reflected on the moment.
“This is the first time we’ve done it this way,” said Ms. Estrella, who wore a long ruffled turquoise skirt reminiscent of the tropical ocean. “Tonight we follow in the footsteps of Vogue. We can show the world who we are.”
Caroline Castro, who lives in the Woodside neighborhood of Queens, wore a green floral dress she designed with sustainable elements like rose stems, bottle caps and coffee filters.
“When we heard the show would be where Vogue World would take place, we knew how important this was,” she said. “We need more eyes at our school. We need better financing. Many New Yorkers don’t know us. Some of our sewing machines barely work.”
“This dress is for my mother,” she added. “She came from Colombia and became a nanny for families in the Upper West Side. I’m going to Parsons next year and I’m dreaming big because she gave me everything and I want to give back.”
“Where’s the Sass?”
Early in the morning the day before the show, in the school’s labyrinthine building on West 24th Street, nervous energy coursed through the fluorescent-lit hallways as students hurried through their final preparations.
In a studio full of mannequins and old Singer sewing machines, Anyah Lewis, a senior citizen, refined a set of plastic moth wings. Next to a row of lockers plastered with flyers promoting the show, Jacob Santiago, a college freshman, was practicing his style. And on a red-brick balcony that sparkled with the reflection of the sun on the Empire State Building, a rehearsal was taking place.
Seniors lined the balcony, some yawning as they awoke from their morning drives from Mott Haven, Harlem and East New York. But as soon as Britney Spears’ “Gimme More” started playing out of a portable speaker, they sprang into action, staring blankly as they followed a tape-lined rehearsal path.
Brenda Rojas, a teacher nicknamed “the runway drill sergeant,” barked feedback at them. Some 30 years earlier, Ms. Rojas had modeled on the show as a student at the High School of Fashion Industries.
“Give me an animal,” she told a tired-looking teenager.
The student put a hand on her hip.
“That’s better,” Mrs. Rojas said. “Put that pose. Eat it.”
Another student model appeared on her catwalk.
“Where’s the sas?” said Mrs. Rojas. “I don’t see sass!”
The exercise ended 15 minutes later. After the faculty members huddled in deliberation, one of them bellowed, “Okay, let’s do it again.” And the disciples came into formation again.
Almost a century ago was the High School of Fashion Industries Founded as the Central Needle Trades High School. It operated from a clothing loft and taught immigrant students how to sew, tailor, drape and sketch.
After an expansion led by the Activities Projects Administration, it reopened in 1940 at its current location. The auditorium contains a landmark mural painted by Ernest Fiene illustrating the struggles of early garment workers, including a depiction of the 1911 Triangle Shirtwaist factory fire.
In the 1950s, the school changed its name to the current one and gradually developed a full-fledged academic curriculum. Today, it has some 1,600 students and offers majors such as photography, merchandising, visual rendering, and graphics and illustration. One of the school’s most famous recent alumni is Haitian-American designer Kerby Jean-Raymond, who founded the fashion label Pyer Moss.
“We’re like the Hogwarts of fashion,” Kate Boulamaali, an assistant principal, said in an interview at the school. “And we’ve been here a long time. This show, whether it was more studio experience first and later more catwalk, has happened here in one form or another practically from the beginning.
Ms. Boulamaali named fashion brands that have supported the show, such as Coach and Stuart Weitzman, who donated shoes this year, and Swarovski, who provide crystals. She mentioned some industry figures who have attended the school, such as Tommy Hilfiger and Betsey Johnson. She remembered when André Leon Talley was created first name for a day and how he criticized student vacation window designs.
Ms. Boulamaali also highlighted the challenges of running a school that must prepare students for careers in an industry that can be both exclusive and glamorous.
“The majority of our children come from families living at or below the poverty line,” she said. “We are here to make sure they know they belong too and that their financial status shouldn’t hold them back. Of course they will have to work a little harder, but our children are not afraid to work hard.”
“We have disabled students, autistic students and non-verbal students here,” she added. “Would you like to see someone with special needs still get the chance to create fashion? Then come to our classrooms. We make sure everyone knows they have a chance.”
show time
On the morning of the show, crowds of students began their journey from the school to the meatpacking district. Moving like a swarm of teenagers, they pushed clothing racks through the streets for about 10 blocks, to Chelsea Market, where they crouched down in a private room to begin their backstage prep.
Empty pizza boxes piled up as they styled each other’s hair with curling irons and applied push-in nails. Ali Rendich-Quinlan, a senior, practiced her moves in front of a mirror. Cavelin Sahba, a tall youth who volunteered to be a model sat on the show with his eyes closed as Noreamy Almanzar, another senior, dabbed foundation on his face.
“I wanted to step out of my comfort zone, so I volunteered,” said Mr. Sahba. “But now I find it empowering. It’s not just a walk.”
Ms. Almanzar applied eyeshadow and said, “The designer, Jayden, wants a smoky eye, so I’m building everything out so he can look great tonight.”
As showtime approached, about 100 teens marched en masse to Gansevoort Plaza and formed a long line behind the runway tent. Parents, alumni, faculty, and New York City Department of Education representatives were already seated. The sky had suddenly darkened.
“Get ready – it’s going to rain hard,” a teacher yelled. “The show must go on!”
As if the weather wasn’t enough, it seemed to some of the contestants that they were about to put on a fashion show at the same venue as the pros. Nameera Mehdi, who wore a pink sari-like dress inspired by her Indian heritage, was not intimidated by Vogue’s shade.
“I can’t wait to walk,” she said. “We are the future generation. They will see what we are talking about.”
As the line moved forward, it began to rain.
“Tell Vogue,” Mrs. Mehdi said, “we’ll come get them.”