From last-minute errands to racing across town for something only the industry could demand (think: a Andy Sachs-style impossible manuscript dash), fashion has always thrived on a certain kind of chaos. And with The Devil Wears Prada firmly back in the cultural conversation, that particular brand of high-pressure, high-stakes hustle feels more relevant than ever – where urgency is non-negotiable and the impossible is simply part of the job description.
Whether it’s sourcing a look at the eleventh hour, navigating city-wide detours for a single sample, or keeping up with requests that can change in an instant, the reality behind the gloss is equal parts exhilarating and demanding.
Here, five fashion industry insiders share their most chaotic, fast-paced runarounds – moments that test their stamina, instincts, and ability to make it happen, no matter what.
Natalia Didovich | FQ digital producer
Working as an assistant in the fashion industry is a roller coaster ride. Yes, there’s glamour (I once went to Buckingham Palace and assisted backstage at London Fashion Week), but then there is also a hell of a lot of blood, sweat and tears (and a lot of eating ramen noodles because you can’t afford anything else). A few memorable (aka traumatising) assistant moments include running across London two days before Christmas in search of a very specific The Flash action-figure for my boss’s son. I was told in no uncertain terms that since Santa had promised to deliver it I would risk “ruining the magic of Christmas’ if it wasn’t found. (Thankfully a kind taxi driver took pity on the poor 22 year old crying in the backseat of his cab and drove me to three different comic book stores for free. We found one at the final store we visited). I also once had to stand outside The Ivy in Kensington on a Friday night and beg for a last minute table for my boss and an important client. She decided she wanted to dine at the notoriously booked out restaurant only 30 minutes before. Mortifying.
Guy Coombes | Photographer
In London on a shoot for Vogue, a mega celebrity who shall not be named was already nine hours late for her call time, and the producer didn’t know if she was even going to show up. This wasn’t unusual; however, as the studio manager, I had to prepare for all scenarios, including staffing the studio for an all-nighter. She arrived at 9pm, requested printed menus for local fried chicken restaurants, flaming hot Cheetos, ramen noodles, and I had to send an assistant out to fetch a microwave for her. The shoot ran through the night until 10am the next day.
Emma Gleason | Fashion writer
A very cinematic memory, however, is one that concerns a story that never saw the light of day. I interviewed none other than Christian Lacroix for Fashion Quarterly, a holy grail interview subject. (I DMed him and he said yes!) However, before the magazine could be sent to print, Bauer Media, the publishers at the time, shut their New Zealand operations down and we all lost our jobs. That empty swivelling chair at the end of the Zoom call will go down in local media history. FQ rose from the ashes and, eventually, so did my story. Some of it anyway; I ended up exhuming and self-publishing some excerpts last year.
Dan Ahwa | Fashion stylist
The most chaotic and memorable moment (among many) was probably Paris in 2018. I had a Dior-approved look [for a shoot] being DHL’d overnight from Singapore. As is often the case coming from New Zealand, you’re essentially running a one-person operation with a very lean team – which is its own kind of essential training for any stylist (followed by knowing how to correctly fill out a carnet form, especially for US customs). It was winter, we had maybe four hours of usable daylight, and the look still hadn’t arrived. It was also already committed: due back at Avenue Montaigne for Léa Seydoux to wear to a premiere the following day. Tracking said “in transit” for hours, then, an hour before sunset, it pinged: delivered to my hotel in Le Marais. We were across town near Les Invalides. I sent the team to a café nearby, then legged it back across the city, jumped on the metro, and made it to the hotel just in time to collect the piece. Straight back out into the fading light. We caught the last of the sunset against that kind of softly glowing Paris skyline which is the best type of light – and it ended up being the strongest frame of the day. Worth the scramble. Thankfully Léa’s stylist was very understanding and allowed an after-hours return.
Sarah Murray | FQ editor-in-chief
When I was in my mid-20s, I was living in London and absolutely determined to become a magazine journalist. Unfortunately, I had one small problem: no journalism qualification and, as it turned out, no job offers. My sister, trying to be helpful, suggested fashion PR – citing it was basically “the same world”, she said. In my experience, it was not! I landed a role in Camden, which on paper sounded promising. In reality, my job consisted of cold-calling every fashion editor in London and trying to convince them to feature the two brands we represented. Most calls lasted about four seconds. Some didn’t even make it that far. But the real low point wasn’t the rejection – it was the office itself. We were based in a basement. Not a chic, converted, exposed-brick kind of basement. A real basic basement, with a real rat problem. Somehow – I became the unofficial rat removal department. Specifically, removing the poisoned rats from the kitchen floor. Huge, black, bloated rats. It’s safe to say, it was character building.
