Like you know, I’m the type that thoroughly prepares any departure to wherever, really. Also for New York, I planned on taking along an entire battery of smashing outfits, but I couldn’t help but gape at an empty suitcase the night before. The idea that I’d look nice in a city where Anna Wintour walks on your left and Miroslava Duma on your right made me freeze up, completely not knowing where to start. Luckily, May-Britt knew how to calm me by saying: “dear, you won’t ever win from such types so why not put on something you feel good in,” and she was totally right. No one is better dressed than Chiara Ferragni, who’s sponsored from earrings to socks by the most expensive brands. No one will get more attention than Leandra Medine, who’s dropped off at any location by a driver, and who spends the larger part of her day in a heated car. But here it comes. Saturday, I walked with all the editors on the square in front of the Lincoln Center to go see the Lacoste show, armed with cameras to capture some nice trends for you guys, when suddenly, as I’m looking around in an okay, but not that spectacular outfit, someone asks me: “excuse me, can I take your picture?” Rather hesitantly I said yes, and before I fully realised it, a modest pack of photographers gathered around me. This show goes on for a few moments, whether I’d like to walk a bit, look left, look right, smile, don’t smile, leg in front of the other — I didn’t know what happened to me. No clue where all those photos ended up, but I found this one which I secretly think is kind of really cool.

You know what else is funny, 9 out of the 10 times, all those completely, hysterically-dressed birds of paradise you see on all those street style photos don’t even attend a show. They arrive to-tal-ly pimped up at the Lincoln Center, twirl around, look bored and blasé when someone takes a photo of them, and pretend they’re incredibly busy with being incredibly busy. But in the end they turn around and leave again because they haven’t got invites to the show. I talked to a bare-legged girl who was chattering her teeth, and was hovering around the Lincoln Center for hours, though didn’t do anything else than being photographed. I really don’t understand why that would be your purpose in life, but whatever floats your boat.

You know what else is funny, 9 out of the 10 times, all those completely, hysterically-dressed birds of paradise you see on all those street style photos don’t even attend a show.

However, in order to make this explorer a bit explorer-ish, I’m giving you some tips on how to attract as many photographers as possible. I’ve looked around and observed a hundred thousand street style blogs, and I’ve concluded the following:

• Who doesn’t want to be glossed over has to wear as many things possible on top of each other. Don’t think of trousers + jumper + coat, but think of trousers + skirt + t-shirt + shirt + jumper + vest + coat + shawl + hat. Lots of layers are more interesting to photograph because it looks like more stuff is happening in the image.
•  Act like a true bird of paradise and don’t think in terms of grey + black, but more along the line of fuchsia pink on lime green. Throw in a lot of colours, wear big sunglasses and platform shoes of 38 centimetres. Glitters, glimmers, feathers, and sequins — nothing’s too crazy, just bathe in it, resulting in something like this. You bet, you’ll be photographed (and spurned by me, but oh, curmudgeon).
• Keeping in mind the weather is something insignificant for people who don’t want to be photographed. At the start of this trip, I passionately searched for the secret of bare legs in snow, and I’ve found it. There is no secret. It’s a pose, and that ‘dedication to your outfit’ sounds fun, but that too is absolute poppycock. Because there’s no way you’re able to explain rationally why you’re wearing a mini skirt and open shoes even though it’s −8 degrees outside and you’ve got to make your way through half a metre of snow. But photographed you’ll be so now you know what to do.