5th Avenue

kolaž za first times

˝Say, you haven’t lived until you’ve been strolling on Fifth Avenue˝

-english below

Kada si prvi put pogledao dobar film? Kada si prvi put slušala Bitlse? Pojela parče torte? Video more? Ja se ne sećam. Volela bih da tamo negde postoji samo moj zapisničar koji uredno po godinama vodi dnevnike naizgled nebitnih činjenica; dnevnik broj 2/1991: Pojela prvo parče torte, polovinu bljucnula na portiklu par minuta kasnije.

Ipak, postoje stvari koje mom imaginarnom zapisničaru sigurno nisu promakle, a kojih se i ja sećam kristalno jasno: sastavila prvu kućicu za barbike; osvojila titulu Miss na svečanom izboru u pesku, iza zgrade; prvi put pojela samostalno kesicu smokija.

Dnevnik broj 9/1998: Prvi put otvorila modni magazin. Imaginarni zapisničar bi sada sigurno znao i koji je to magazin bio i ko je bila zvezda naslovnice, ali ja se sećam samo jednog detalja. Amber Valetta u kampanji za parfem 5th Avenue, Elisabeth Arden. Crni šešir zaobljenih krajeva i crna haljina, u pozadini nepregledni pejzaž nebodera. Nije to bila obična reklama, ne, ne. Imala je presavijeni desni rub i u njemu mirisnu notu parfema koji bi se zadržao na koži nakon dodira. Hej, ti! Parfem u stranici magazina! Za sedmogodišnju devojčicu, to je bila čista magija. Svakodnevno sam buljila u tu jednu stranicu, divila se lepoti modela i razmišljala kako da ponesem takav šešir, a da ne izgleda kao da se šalim (skoro dve decenije kasnije pitanje je još uvek goruće). Toliko puta sam protrljala dlanom desni rub stranice, da je i slika pomalo počela da bledi, a miris je nakon nekoliko nedelja potpuno iščezao. U broju su naravno bile Cindy, Naomi i kompanija, i puno pari boyfriend farmerki koje su se tada zvale samo farmerke. Postala sam opsednuta i nažalost (ili na sreću), nikada se više nisam oporavila.

Kao neshvaćena šesnaestogodišnjakinja koja je bila dovoljno srećna da ima svoju sobu i tri dnevnika pod ključem, kupovala sam časopise i od sadržaja pravila kolaže. Ubrzo su svi zidovi bili prekriveni raznobojnim manekenkama u žaru catwalka. Karmini vatrenih boja. Pune usne sa efektnim natpisima poput ˝I don’t need a man!” (yeah, right!). Bila sam u stanju da seckam i krojim satima dok uz kafu slušam neverovatne priče iz modnih prestonica od drugarice koja se uveliko bavila modelingom.

Nemojte me shvatiti pogrešno. Nikada nisam gajila ambiciju modela jer sam od takvih zamisli uvek bila bar jedan blok poslastičarnica daleko, ali svet mode, jakih reflektora i glatkih stranica bio je za mene jedno divno i naizgled nedostižno prostranstvo.

˝Što si me zvala?˝

˝E, majka, dođi da vidiš! Kada jednom budem radila u ovom časopisu, ići ćemo na ovakve premijere i ti ćeš nositi ovakvu haljinu!˝

˝Više mi se sviđa ovo odelo.˝

˝Onda odelo! Obuci šta god hoćeš, ja ću tada raditi u časopisu!˝

Tri godine kasnije, upisala sam arhitekturu. Pet godina kasnije sam diplomirala. Pola godine kasnije sam shvatila da nisam sigurna želim li time da se bavim. Nakon još pola godine poslala sam CV na adresu Elle magazina. Dva meseca kasnije, sedela sam u redakciji kao stažista.

Nikada nisam bila nervoznija. Nikada nisam bila srećnija. To je to. Tu sam gde treba da budem. Projektujem papirne stranice umesto kuća i penim od uzbuđenja. Atmosfera, energija, grcavi zvuk fotokopir mašine i raštimano udaranje po tastaturi. Sve je savršeno i baš onako kako sam zamišljala još davno, prekrajajući neku stranicu magazina na kojoj je Sarah Jessica Parker obučena kao balerina. I ljudi! Ljudi koji vole svoj posao. Ne uzdišu u očaju kada ih pitaš kako ide. Piju kafu iz šarenih šolja za poneti. Gledaju na svet kroz naočare koje nisu obavezno ružičaste, ali su definitivno u trendu. Ljudi koji nesebično dele svoje znanje i daju sve od sebe jer drugi način ne postoji.

Prosto je. Mesec dana mozganja, mlakih ideja, genijalnih ideja, planova i još planova,kesa i ofingera, fotografija, pisanja, crtanja, pisanja i još malo pisanja i nakon svega toga fantastični krajnji rezultat na papiru. Nešto živo. Opipljivo. Sjajno i mazno. Sadrži krv, sreću, suze i znoj, onaj jedan par cipela za koje nemam para i uzorke krema koje mi nisu potrebne, ali ih uvek sačuvam pa bacim za par godina kada ponovo na njih naletim u zabačenom delu komode.

Vreme je proletelo kao na vrtoglavom ringišpilu. I baš kao što sa ringišpilima obično i biva, jednom kada se odigneš od zemlje i prepustiš osećaju, teško da će ti čvrsto tlo ikada više biti dovoljno dobro. Koga briga gde će pasti labava desna baletanka, ti letiš!

Neponovljivo iskustvo za mene. Prelomno. Malo sam porasla, malo dorasla. Dozrela. Proširila se za ceo jedan univerzum u kome je moguće sve što jako želiš i koji sada nosim svuda sa sobom. Protegla se za još jedan trenutak koji je imaginarni zapisničar sigurno zabeležio, a nije morao jer ću ga se i za par decenija sećati jednako jasno kao onog crnog šešira sa reklame za parfem.

Moja majka je ove godine načela svoju petnaestu bočicu 5th Avenue parfema. Ja sam načela jedno potpuno novo poglavlje i dodala čak dva broja magazina, na čijem sam stvaranju radila, na gomilu koja polako preti da proglasi suverenitet i sazove predsedničke izbore. Čim se to desi, planiram da im zatražim azil i živim na proplanku neke lepe reklame za parfem, videću već koje. A možda kupim i crni šešir. Da, kupiću šešir.


 

When was the first time you saw a good movie? When was the first time you listened to The Beatles? Had a piece of cake? Fell in love? I don’t remember. I’d love it if there was some kind of personal notary for every one of us, that notes all kinds of important or unimportant moments; Notebook No. 2/1991: ate a piece of cake, puked in the napkin few seconds after.

However, there are certain things that I remember doing for the first time, without any notary reminding me: building a Barbie house; winning the beauty pageant on the playground behind my house; eating the whole bag of flips by myself.

Notebook No9/1998: Read a fashion magazine for the first time. Now, that imaginary notary of mine would sure know which magazine that was and who was the cover star, but few details are all I can remember. Amber Valetta in Elisabeth Arden’s 5th Avenue perfume ad. Black ladylike hat, black dress and skyscrapers in the background. It was’t some ordinary perfume ad, no Sir! It had folded edge with a perfume scent which would remain on the wrist upon contact. I mean, whaat?! Perfume implemented on a page of a magazine?! For the seven year old girl, that was as far as any magic can go! Everyday I stared at that one page, admiring the beautiful Amber and thinking about how to pull  a hat like that, and avoid looking like a joke (almost two decades later, the struggle is more real than ever!). I rubbed my wrist against that page so many times, the colors started to fade and perfume scent was all gone after just few day. I remember Cindy and Naomi being in that very issue, wearing boyfriend jeans that were simply called ˝jeans˝ back in the day. I became obsessed and unfortunately (or fortunately), I was never fully recovered.

As a misunderstood sixteen year old who was lucky enough to have her own room and three secret journals under a lock and key, I used to buy magazines and make moodboards. Soon, all the walls were covered with models in the heat of the catwalk. Vibrant colored lipsticks. Croped lips with effective descriptions such as ˝I don’t need a man!˝ (Yeah, right!). I could do that for hours over a coffee and chitchatting about fashion capitals of the world with my friend who, at the time, already had her modeling career game on point.

Don’t get me wrong. I never dreamed of a model career for myself. I was always one too many pizza slices away from that 🙂 But for me, the world of fashion, bright lights and countless shiny pages seemed like some magical, unattainable space that I wished I could enter.

˝You called me?˝

˝Yes, mom, come see this! When I get a job in a fahion magazine, we will go to a movie premieres such as this one and you’ll be wearing this dress!˝

˝Well, I like this suit better!˝

˝Then suit it is! You can wear whatever you want, because I work in a fashion magazine!˝

Three years later, I was an architecture student. Five years later, I graduated. Half a year later, I realized I wasn’t sure weather I wanted to do that for the rest of my life. Half a year more,  I sent my CV and portfolio to Elle magazine. Two months later, I was in the office as an intern.

So much anxiety. So much happiness! That’s it! I am exactly where I need to be. I design pages instead of houses and It’s bananas! The atmosphere, the energy, the creaky sound of copier and keyboard typing. Everything is perfect and exactly how I’ve imagined it to be back in the day while cropping Sarah Jessica Parker in a ballerina dress. And the people! The people who love their job. The people who don’t sigh in despair when you ask them ˝How’s it going?˝. They drink their coffee out of colorful takeaway cups and look at the world through glasses that aren’t necessarily pink, but boy, are they the latest fashion! The people who share their knowledge and always do their best, ’cause there’s no other way!

It’s simple. A month of brainstorming, not so good ideas, very good ideas, planning and more planning, shopping bags and mannequins, photos and drawings, then writing and more writing, and have I mentioned writing? And then, the grand finale on paper. It’s alive. It’s tangible. Shiny and flirtatious. It’s blood, sweat and tears, also that one pair of shoes I can not afford and face creme samples I’ll never use.

It happened in the blink of an eye! I was on a dizzying carousel, and just like it always goes, once you bounce off the ground and feel your wings, that same ground won’t be good enough ever again. Who cares for the loose ballet flats, you’re flying!

Truly unique experience for me. Groundbreaking. I grew up and I grew in. I expanded myself to an entire universe in which everything is possible if you really want it. I am now a moment richer. A moment that was surely written down in some notebook by my imaginary notary. No need, though. I’ll remember it for decades to come, just as I remember that black ladylike hat from the perfume ad.

This year, my mother bought her 15th bottle of 5th Avenue perfume. As for me, I’ve started a whole new chapter. I’ve also added two issues of Elle magazine, with my name in them, to the growing pile. The pile is slowly threatening to declare its sovereignty. As soon as that happens, I’m plan on seeking an asylum and living the rest of my life on a glade of some nice perfume ad. I may even buy that ladylike hat. Yep, I think I’ll buy the hat.


 

Imate li i vi neke nebitne/bitne trenutke koje jasno pamtite? Jedva čekam da čujem! 🙂

If you have any of those unimportantly important moments you treasure, I’d love to hear! 🙂

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15 thoughts on “5th Avenue

  1. Radujem se dnevnicima x/2015! Kupila crni šešir, otvorila štand sa šampanjcem, otišla u Novi Saad, pa i preko okeana… <3

  2. Šarenolik i poletan tekst pun preplitanja želja i nada, tako lepo skrojen deo o odrastanju… Samo napred, želim ti puno uspeha. Drago mi je da sam došla na ove nove, divne strane. 🙂

  3. Fantastično! Skroz sam uživala čitajući i pronašla se u malo previše redova 🙂 Keep it up, girl 😉

  4. Ovo je predivno! Otpatila sam pošteno što se konkurs za stažiste objavio kad sam već bila u inostranstvu. Potpuno te razumem, inače, ja sam školovani lingvista koji evo pred kraj drugog stepena studija počinje da kapira da nije to baš to. A od petog razreda do tipa trećeg srednje nije bilo ni premišljanja ni predomišljanja: znalo se, novinarstvo. I onda bum. Ne’m pojma 🙂

    Ne znam u kom pravcu želiš da ide tvoj blog, ali meni bi bilo jako zanimljivo da čitam kako vam je na praksi i šta konkretno radite. Razmisli o tome! 🙂

    Wandering Polka Dot

    1. heh, tako je to, mada ne treba očajavati, svako nađe nešto svoje i to ne bude baš uvek ono što oduvek misliš da će biti 🙂 definitivno ću da porazmislim o tome 🙂 hvala na predlogu!

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