Missing Lenny Kravitz - be ready for any situation!

AAUGH! I missed Lenny!!As a fashion stylist, you must always look the part. It doesn't make sense to talk your designing up and hand over a business card in a pair of sweats covered with cat hair. I learned this lesson the hard way.

On a recent visit to California, I had a layover from the East Coast in St. Louis. Traveling from coast to coast with one plane change was an all-day affair and could sometimes be longer with a delay, which I was experiencing at the moment. I had gotten up before the crack of dawn and in all sensibility, thought it to be a good day to wear my circa 1980 burgundy Pierre Cardin sweat suit. I also found it to be a good day not to comb my hair, put on my makeup, or even act as if I was awake. And I wasn't really awake until I saw Lenny Kravitz.

He was sitting with his crew in Gate B. There is no mistaking Lenny Kravitz: he shines like a vintage diamond. I moved past him cool and quickly. He was a blur of denim, purple glasses and a height-defying Afro. There were no crowds.

Two lessons I am about to learn here: gluttony and laziness.

I knew I had to do something about seeing Lenny Kravitz. I knew it was a sign. I also knew I was hungry and had not eaten yet that day. So I waited impatiently in line at the Burger King. I woofed down my hamburger and devised a plan.

Lenny Kravitz would have to have my card, but there is no way he could get a card from a stylist who looked like she should be organizing his garage rather than his closet. I had to change.

Since it was only a weekend visit, I had my one piece of luggage with me. Inside a bathroom stall, I struggled to pull on a pair of skin-tight sailor jeans, red cowboy boots, a linen peasant blouse with an embroidered neckline, a patchwork belt, and hoop earrings.

Halfway into my pants, the overhead announced my delayed flight was boarding immediately and all passengers should be at the new gate, which was located halfway across the universe.

I had to throw my hair up into a floppy jean cap. I outlined my lips and dusted my face with powder. My plan was to simply hand Lenny Kravitz one of my cards, make a quick remark about being a vintage specialist, and walk away, leaving him spellbound and envious of my purple leather coat with the taupe stitching.

When I walked back to Gate B, card in hand, Lenny Kravitz was no longer there.

I had to eat, and I had to be lazy by not dressing myself properly that morning. A great opportunity was lost to either embarrass myself or buy clothing for one of the most stylish dressers in this era.

The stewardess seated me in the last seat in the last row. I thought hopefully how, "the last shall be the first." If you are not careful, you can let your whole life hold you up.

Two months later, on another trip to L.A., I had learned my lesson. So when Vince Vaughn stood next to my table while drinking his coffee at an airport Starbucks, I was able to confidently smile up at him in with freshly braided hair, frosted eye shadow, and an outfit that took vision and trust to put together. When clothing works right, it works like a good rumor. Some rumors create legends, if good enough.

by T. Katrina Ramser

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