I just survived an insane day juggling the madness of uni life as a fashion design student. Seriously, I didn’t sign up for a rollercoaster ride, but here I am, feeling like I’m racing through a Project Runway episode, minus the dramatic music. Let me tell you about it.
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It started with this ridiculous rush to catch the early train because, of course, the day I have a crucial fabric sourcing trip planned is the day the transport gods decide to throw a spanner in the works. At least I wasn’t the only one speed-walking embarrassingly past confused tourists wondering why dozens of students were in such a hurry. I should really invest in one of those scooters—save myself from morning madness.
Anyway, finally made it to class, just five minutes late (not too shabby), and dived straight into this group project thing. It’s funny how every team always seems to have one person MIA. It’s like a universal rule in group work. We’re supposed to be coordinating this presentation about sustainable fashion trends, but it’s a bit hard when one-third of the group is a no-show. I guess she’s either blissfully sleeping or forgot we even had class today.
The highlight though? Grabbing a quick lunch in between classes at this weirdly decorated café just off campus, where the chairs look like something straight out of a surrealist painting. But hey, the sandwiches hit the spot, and the coffee isn’t half bad. Keeps me awake through the droning history lectures.
Now, if you ever get the chance to browse through those weird fashion periodicals, do it. They give you an eccentric, humorous glimpse into the minds of designers who clearly do not live on the same planet as the rest of us.
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Then came the best part of the day—studio time! There I was in the design lab, arms deep in a pile of fabric scraps, struggling to make sense of my muse. It’s chaos embodied, but that’s where the magic happens, right? I’m sitting there, pins in mouth, knee-deep in an array of colorful fabrics, praying my inspiration doesn’t up and leave me.
Designing is all fun and games until you poke yourself with a needle for the tenth time (tell me I’m not the only one who does this). And you’d think wrangling fabrics would be a bit more majestic—it’s usually more wrestling match than grace.
But you know what the weirdest bit is? As hectic as it gets, I wouldn’t swap it for anything else. It’s like trying to unravel a giant ball of tangled yarn—frustrating but totally worth it when you finally see it all come together. Now if only I could get this headache to leave me alone. I need a nap…