Everyone seems to think that going on buying trips is a glamorous event. Buffets of seafood and scantily clad models feeding you grapes as you spout out huge orders to little Europeans with clipboards, hanging on your every word. " Jes ees an fantasteek viseon ju hav"
As the next big trade show approaches I embark on my 30th year of buying. The MAGIC show now covers an area the size of Paradise Valley. Grouped in areas of contemporary to department store crap. Aisles of knock offs or lines inspired by brands you are already sick of with names like Blue Religion. A never ending barrage of blue this and couture that. Too much of too much. Then its lunchtime, where is the buffet? Wait, there is a line for sandwiches. I will have the dehydrated turkey please on packing foam with a mustard stain and a Mr. Pibb. That will be fourteen bucks the parolee says at the counter. Then off to appointments. Don't get me wrong there are great moments when you stumble on a real jewel or get a tip on someone with an amazing line off property. I once bought a line out of the back of a cargo plane. By the end of three days or so you are weighted down with look books orders and paperwork hauling around tons of images that will wind out in the recycling bin. The one thing that seems strange is that is a great deal of really bad fashion to be seen, buyers and sales reps shooting for the new thing. There is no industry like it. And truth be told I guess I love doing it.
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