Hairspray, gel, makeup, bright lights, really crammed conditions, soda water, tension, nerves – am I really here for New York Fashion Week?

It seems surreal, considering most of the world has been watching New York this week for the 10-year anniversary of 9/11, rather than for the world’s biggest fashion event. I have travelled a long way to be here and my mild paranoia is only increased by conversations with models and stylists backstage at Fashion Week’s 42nd Street venue: ‘‘Oh, we ain’t takin’ any public transport at the moment, ’cos, you know, the 9/11 thing.’’

Security is at its highest. There are police and checkpoints everywhere, making it hard to escape the reality of what happened here 10 years ago. Trucks full of props, lighting, clothing and speakers crash and bang as gear is unloaded into the venue. Everyone jumps at any sound that could suggest a terror attack. Everyone is on edge. Luckily there are a lot of perfect looking models walking around to distract everyone. I take a quick breather outside to escape the congestion in the preparation area. The air is a mixture of high-end perfume, cigarette smoke and exhaust fumes, with a whiff of
sewers. It’s a strange cocktail and I think, ‘‘So this is what New York Fashion Week smells like’’. I get the nod – I am about to hairdress my first show, for menswear designer Patrik Ervell.

The hair for the show is very gelled and wet-looking, then combed tight back to the nape of the neck, on both the girls and the boys. With the girls their long ends are left to dangle dry and dishevelled, as though the hair was forgotten about. That mood continues with the smoky-eyed, rock-chick makeup, which is intense and sexy on these incredible women’s faces.

And they know it, too. I had been cautioned about the precious nature of some of these models. They arrive at the venue one by one, some by cab, some by limo, depending on how big they are. But people are fascinated with the Kiwi accent, which puts me at ease.

My contact and host for this opportunity is Auckland hairdresser Tyson Kennedy. We met 15 years ago, early in our hairdressing careers. He now lives in New York and hairdresses for Cutler, a leading salon brand.

Tyson is no newcomer to the international limelight. When he is not hairdressing he is on the road with rock band Steriogram, which became a sensation in the United States with the hit song Walkie Talkie Man. Tyson’s hairdressing remains his launchpad, and his musical connections have helped him in the hairdressing industry. Gel, gel and more gel. I haven’t used this much since I thought I was Rick Springfield singing Jessie’s Girl in the 80s. My next model has so much stuff in her hair from her previous job it’s going to be difficult to do anything with her hair. She looks like Cameron Diaz in the film There’s Something About Mary. To get this product out is going to hurt.

Luckily for me she has heard of New Zealand, but only because of Flight of the Conchords. She keeps giggling at me and tries to mimic the Kiwi accent. Thankfully, that’s enough of a distraction while I brush out the matted mane that once would have been considered her hair.

Here I am, rubbing shoulders in a cramped, makeshift studio with 15 makeup artists and hairdressers. No egos, no pretensions – it’s all about the designer’s vision for the show. It’s a dream come true.

Next stop: Karen Walker’s exclusive fashion show after-party.