Because life behind the scenes is often just as exciting as front row, May-Britt takes you on a journey through her life every week. Dull moments are not on the menu.

So where do I start? Oh, the departure to New York. It started with the hopeless announcement from the mouth of an extremely cheerful stewardess with a smile from earring to earring: “Your flight is cancelled.” When we asked why, she gave us the intelligent answer “It’s technical.” Fine. Okeee. I won’t bore you with The Fuss that followed. We eventually flew via Frankfurt to New York and finally landed a few hours later having missed two shows, but hey the sun was shining and we were there.

There was a queue for the taxis, with a three hour wait, so we hopped in the city bus. Now I’m 100% spoiled princess but this bus was just fine. We drove to Bryant Park for 16 dollars and then changed over to another small bus that dropped us at our front door. Nothing to do about it.

Our apartment was heaven on Park Avenue. It’s a studio rented out by two photographers via Air B&B. I’m not sure if the two gentlemen had an obsession with maths, but everything was in pairs. Two fridges, two ovens, two washing machines (that’s how big it was, seriously) and two dishwashers. A Sonos sound system, kick-ass WiFi, a fridge full of wine with the request that we wildly plunder because they don’t drink. Okay sure. Someone has to do it.

“Could you take us to the Plaza Hotel please” was the start to the evening as Liesbeth and I made our way to Carine Roitfeld’s Icons party. Talk about a party with everyone, this was it. Linda Evangelista, Brooke Shields, Lindsey Wixson, Karolina Kurkova, Daphne Groeneveld, Pharrell and Lady Gaga performed. So much champagne was had that the glasses were all used and we ended up drinking bubbly out of tumblers. Bus, champagne in tumblers, not so spoiled after all.

Saturday was all about shows, then a heavenly lunch at café Gitane in Mott Street. I went by bike and then had a really quick manicure. It was necessary I promise. That evening we met Micha Emmering (founder and director of Micha Models) and her husband Sander, and oyster king Rifko Meijer with his new bride in good old Morandi. Terrace, rosé and the very best food.

It was late last night and then the alarm clock went off at 05:45. I was allowed backstage at Victoria Beckham, a show that Maartje Verhoef, talking about Dutch top models, was walking in. Maartje is from Micha Models and the hottest girl of fashion week. She is seen in almost every show, and if she isn’t in one it’s because she turned them down from lack of time. Maartje was also the face of the Look-Book and posed for the photos a few days ago. On her birthday coincidentally. Victoria surprised her with a cake, how sweet is that?

Maartje closed the show (the highlight of any catwalk show. Opening or closing a show is an honour), was introduced to Victoria’s son Brooklyn, and asked if she already had a boyfriend, and then posed with David Beckham on a photo.

That day finished at midnight. From Victoria Beckham to Derek Lam, through to DvF, on to the casting for the Calvin Klein show and then two fittings. Whoever things that modelling is a life of luxury should try it for a day. If I carried on like this for a month, I think my hip measurement would also end up at 90 cm.

Anyway, before this turns into a novel, hereby the short version. I saw shows of Marc by Marc Jacobs, Vera Wang, Michael Kors, Tory Burch and criss-crossed  the city. I had no time for restaurants (too busy) but on the last day I ended up on the ultra luxurious Soho House roof terrace with Liesbeth. You know, the members only club that Samantha gatecrashed in Sex and the City. I saw all the people around us on Style.com the next day.

A perfect ending to New York Fashion Week, which ended on a far more glamorous note than what it started.