WEEK     JOB: FASHION BUYER

LOCATION: NEW YORK CITY

EMPLOYER: GLOBAL PURCHASING GROUP

WAGE: $60,000–$100,000 (ASSISTANT: APPROXIMATELY $35,000)

INDUSTRY IQ:

• Clothing sales in the United States is a $250 billion industry.

• More than 4 million people in America work in fashion.

• No specific qualifications are required to become a fashion buyer, but many schools offer programs in fashion and specializations in fashion merchandising, which are recommended.

APPLICATION PROCESS: Vocation Vacations, a company that provides individuals the opportunity to try out their dream job, contacted me and offered to set up this position.

WHAT I LEARNED: It’s surprisingly difficult to dress a mannequin.

MY FIRST DAY on the job, I didn’t have time to contemplate my wardrobe. I tossed on the most accessible items in my suitcase—jeans and a long-sleeved collared brown shirt—and hurried out the door. I was a little concerned about how it would go over under the trained critical eyes of a professional fashion buyer, but it was too late.

Construction on the New York City subway put Ian and me back another five minutes, and we arrived at the office, in the Flatiron District of Manhattan, fifteen minutes late. As we got in the door, we were greeted by an assistant, who immediately escorted us through the ninth-floor office. In the next room, I saw two young designers with their collection laid out on the table already waiting for me. Followed by Ian with the video camera, I was led into the office of Mercedes Gonzalez, my boss for the week. She wasn’t impressed. “Nice to see that you dressed up for your first day working with a fashion company,” she said, nose turned up.

Mercedes was of Cuban descent, with dark straight hair and big brown eyes. She maintained a serious demeanor and a direct tone, yet always finished with a wry smile that softened her edge.

Apologizing for my lateness and inadequate wardrobe, I took a seat across from Mercedes at her desk. She quickly explained her business.

“It’s not a business about fashion really; it’s an information business. Basically the company is broken into three divisions. The first division is retail—if you want to open a store, we’ll work with retailers from concept to opening day. The second part is working with the young designers who need help understanding the business side of the industry. And the last part of the business is working with established retailers who are in a distress situation to help them streamline or grow their business.”

I glanced around the office and took in a few racks of clothing, each wall a different color, with eccentric pieces of artwork. On her desk sat a framed picture of her two Yorkie pups, Gucci and Prada.

My attention shifted back to Mercedes, who was still throwing information at me.

“When a designer calls me up and is like, ‘I have something that’s so out there and so new and so … ’ you know what that means to me? Not sellable. ‘Oh, but I’m an artist.’ You know what? Art belongs in a museum. This is fashion; fashion goes in retail.”

I’d yet to catch my breath from running to the office that morning, and it looked like I wouldn’t get a chance to all week—Mercedes meant business.

She finished her information blitz with a polite caution: “We take this business very seriously. We have a lot planned this week; it’s going to be … intense.” She paused, awaiting my reaction.

In its silence, the room felt different, offering me my first moment of reprieve since I’d arrived. My bewildered expression informed Mercedes that she’d succeeded in intimidating me. The corner of her mouth pulled back in a wry smirk. “You ready?” she asked.

I’d always wondered who the people were who sat in a room somewhere and chose what would be the next fashion trend for the upcoming season—deciding what it is that people want but don’t realize they want yet. There’s always some new style that keeps the industry thriving. After all, who wants to be caught wearing something that was “so last year”?

An hour later, Ian, Mercedes, her assistant, and I were racing in a cab on our way to visit a company where such trends are born.

Mercedes took me to the global headquarters of Stylesight, a trend-forecasting company. Here I’d learn what designers, buyers, and retailers pay big bucks to find out—what would be “on trend” the following season. On the way, Mercedes explained the process. “When you look at the runway collections, it seems like all the designers got together, had a cup of coffee, and said, ‘This is what we’re going to do.’ But what they actually do is subscribe to all these trend-forecasting companies, and a lot of designers get their inspiration from this.”

We arrived at the office, Ian following closely with his camera. I felt like everyone was whispering, “Why’s the camera here?” “I wonder what network this show will air on.” “Who’s that guy with the dreads and no fashion sense?”

With all eyes in the room directed at me, the vice president/creative director explained the concept of trend forecasting and taught me what trends to look for next spring. “Reporting comes from correspondents all over the world, feeding us information about what people are wearing and the different styles that are surfacing. We filter that and decipher what the code is and what it means to make new product.”

“So if I was a designer, and I came to you guys, what information would I receive?” I asked.

“You would have the analysis as to what would be important going forward analyzed from the collections, street and retail, organized in such a way that you could see the future for design.” She directed my attention to the couple of photos in her hand. “What we’re looking at in the new millennium is what we’ve been looking at since the beginning of this decade—we’re looking back before we really feel confident to go forward and create something that’s truly original and modern.”

If it goes through such a calculated process, I wondered, how can anything truly be “original”? It seemed like it would always be an updated or modified version of something that we’d already seen.

Even trend-forecasting companies look at what others are doing to determine how we should dress. Somebody will start to do something different, people take notice, it may catch on, then it influences future fashion trends. We decide whether someone is fashionable or “on trend” based on this set of predetermined guidelines that were derived by gathering information from those around the world who choose to do something new. So the risk is, if you dress differently and come up with your own style, you could be seen either as a trendsetter or simply as someone with no fashion sense. Choose wisely.

At the forecasting company, I had more interest in the social implications of the industry than in the specific trends to watch out for, though with all the attention focused on me and knowing that I’d be expected to use this information throughout the week, I took diligent notes and asked lots of questions. They took me through the styles and color combinations that we’d expect to see the following spring season. My vocabulary expanded to include industry buzzwords like “body con,” “retro,” “architectural style,” and “asymmetrical deconstruction.”

Back at the office that afternoon, Mercedes immediately put me to the test.

“Okay, a new designer is coming in; he should be here any minute now,” she said. “I want you to handle this meeting on your own. I want you to see the new line, get updated, get the delivery dates, get the price points, and figure out which of the clients will fit the bill for him.”

I figured that I’d take the lead but she’d be there to help guide me. In the previous thirty-four weeks, I’d often questioned whether my employer really expected much out of me. There was often a sense that no matter how much I messed up, I couldn’t do more damage than simply embarrassing myself with my apparent incompetence. Not this time. It was up to me to take care of the whole meeting from start to finish—learning about what stage the designer was at, taking a look at the products, and giving my opinion on what the next steps should be.

The first of my two meetings was with a designer named Andres Stickney. He’d recently designed a dress for Whoopi Goldberg and showcased it on the nationally televised morning talk show The View. Then there was me, first day on the job, giving him my opinion as to whether I thought his uniquely designed rubber belts, priced around $200, would sell. I fumbled my way through as best I could, but my knowledge of the belt market was limited—unfortunately my all-determining trend-forecasting training hadn’t extended to accessories.

The second meeting was with a middle-aged mother who had a dream of designing a kids’ clothing line. She’d employed Mercedes to help her get there. She seemed as clueless as I was, and so we both did our best to pretend. The logo that she’d designed involved several monkeys hanging out intertwined between the label’s lettering. A few of the monkeys held bananas. One of them sat with his back against the last letter, which granted a profile view of the curious smile on his face. Cute enough. Except with his hands clasped together, he held the banana in a rather delicate position between his legs, which only made his already curious smile even more curious—and creepy. I made the executive decision that parents probably wouldn’t find it nearly as funny as I did.

Next it was time to experience the other aspect of the business: retail. The following day, Mercedes took me to a designer’s showroom to look at next season’s women’s collection. “So, Sean, everything that you learned yesterday about color, function, style, body, you’re going to apply because we’re actually going to place an order for one of our stores, a boutique in Las Vegas.”

We met with the showroom manager, Beatrice, then took a seat while she brought out the spring and summer collection. “Okay, Sean,” Mercedes said. “I want you to pick out the pieces that you don’t like so that we can narrow down the collection to the few pieces we’ll order.”

I stood up and walked toward the articles of clothing that lined the wall. “Can I pull out the ones that I like?” I asked.

“No. Pull out the ones that you don’t like.”

There were about fifteen pieces to choose from: pants, shorts, dresses, tops.

I had no idea where to start. I’d pull a couple of items off, then try to gauge Mercedes’s reaction before handing them to Beatrice.

At one point, Mercedes was quick to comment on two pieces I pulled off the rack. As I handed them to Beatrice, Mercedes turned to look at Ian with the camera, “That dress was really a winner; so was that tuxedo shirt.”

Defending my interpretation of “on trend,” I stepped up and reaffirmed my preference. “I don’t know, I still don’t like that dress.”

“Well, let’s ask Beatrice.” She turned toward Beatrice. “Beatrice, how has that dress been selling for you?”

As if they’d planned it, Beatrice immediately responded, “This has been one of our best-selling dresses.”

With $250 billion spent every year in the United States on clothes, there’s a lot of potential in the fashion field. But at the same time, it’s a tough industry.

“Just because you always liked to dress your Barbie doll or everyone tells you that you’re a good dresser does not mean fashion buying/retailing is the field for you. It’s a lot of work, and people need to be realistic about what to expect,” Mercedes said.

She told me that nine out of ten new boutiques don’t survive. It takes a certain personality to be successful. Since Mercedes had started her business nine years earlier, she had helped clients open seven hundred stores, only one of which had closed.

“It’s a tough business,” she admitted. “You’d better be aggressive, assertive, proactive, analytical, and good with math.”

Once you place an order, you have to be good at numbers to price the merchandise correctly and consider what your bottom line will be if you need to reduce the price.

“If you think this life is all about Paris runways, you’d better adjust your expectations. But if you understand that this is a business like any other and work hard and smart, it can be very profitable.”

Mercedes knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. At first she appeared hard-nosed, though the way she easily switched to all smiles made me think that sometimes the toughness was just a show. She was so kind that I’m not sure she was capable of being genuinely angry; rather I suspect she felt the need to put up a front for fear of being taken advantage of in such a competitive business. It’s how she got things done. Mercedes embraced that fear and used it as motivation instead of letting it paralyze her.

“At any age, you can make a change,” she said. “I think the biggest thing preventing people from making a change is fear. I live with it every single day. I wake up and I’m like, ‘Oh my God, am I going to be able to make payroll this week? Are we going to be able to find a new client? What’s the next retailer? What’s the next designer?’ But that fear is what keeps my passion alive and keeps me moving forward.”

I concluded my fashion buyer training in the small town of Margaretville, in rural upstate New York. Mercedes owns a retail store in town, so I was able to practice my new knowledge in a retail setting—the front line of fashion.

As it was also Thanksgiving that week, Mercedes and her husband, Aldo, invited us to stay at their cottage in Margaretville for a home-cooked turkey dinner. And so, along with Gucci and Prada, we loaded up the car and headed north.

That night I’d find myself in a charity fashion show—the only guy among a pack of sixteen-year-old girls strutting my stuff down the catwalk.

Mercedes’s friend owned a vintage clothing store and was hosting the event. She needed a male model, so she asked me to be in the show. The clothes fit, and I figured that opportunities to be in a fashion show in rural upstate New York don’t come around too often, so I said yes.

The fashion show was held in a hotel conference room they’d spiced up with harvest-themed décor and bright colorful spotlights that splashed the catwalk. The raised wooden runway stretched down the middle of the room, with the enthusiastic audience members seated close by on either side. As I was the only male backstage, my designated change room was a small closet out of view. I put on my first of three vintage outfits—a gray wool sweater, green cargo pants, and construction boots—and then soon, a funky electronic backbeat loudly played and the show was under way.

With each outfit I modeled, the emcee, a comedian from New York City, kept making comments about my butt. On my last tour of the runway, she stopped me once again. “Here comes our hunk, Sean,” she hollered. “Sean, turn around a moment for us, show us that beautiful backside!”

I paused. All eyes in the room were aimed at me. Typically in these situations, my discomfort would manifest as me singing a random yet somewhat appropriate nineties pop tune (in this case, I’d likely go with Sir Mix-A-Lot, “Baby Got Back”) or I’d simply dance awkwardly in an attempt to redirect the attention.

The loud music eliminated my singing option, so I did the only thing I could do in such a circumstance: I resorted to a spirited booty shake, to the delight of the elderly women in the front row.