What’s the first thing you think of when you think of Milan? Maybe the Duomo, the gelato, or - if you’re like most people - Milan being the fashion capital of the world. I’d heard plenty of tales about Milanese chic, but when Fashion Week rolled around from February 25 to March 3, 2025, and I happened to be living in the city - I knew I had to make Milan my runway.
This, unlike most things in my life, was completely unplanned. Piri and I were hanging out when she casually mentioned that she was going to the Gucci show - “going” as in camping outside the venue because Jin from BTS was rumored to be attending. What a wonderful adventure, I thought. Before she could finish her sentence, we were already on the Milan metro, ready to take on the fashion world - or at least the sidewalk outside of it.
It was pure chaos in the best way possible. We tiptoed along barricades, craning our necks for a glimpse of celebrities we barely knew. It was unserious and ridiculous - and yet, it was perfect. Around us, fans from all over the world laughed, cheered, and waited together. Somehow, everyone - students, photographers, locals, tourists - felt united by the moment. I remember thinking: When else will I ever be in Milan, during Fashion Week, with my best friend, chasing glimpses of glitter and glamour?
We made finsta vlogs, exchanged stories with fans from Korea and France, and screamed when we finally saw Jin from BTS step out of a sleek black car. But truthfully, he wasn’t the highlight - the energy was. The buzz of the crowd, the stunning outfits, the collective thrill of being part of something larger than yourself - Milan itself felt alive, pulsing, cinematic. The city was its own character, and we knew we’d be back for more.
And we were. The next day, Piri, Eric, and I took things up a notch. We spent the morning hunting down pop-up shops, collecting freebies from brands like Guess and Manila Grace, before heading to the Diesel show. And god - the Diesel show was on gasoline. The fashion was daring, bold, and unapologetic. The streets outside were a runway in their own right - influencers striking poses, students in thrifted fits standing shoulder-to-shoulder with photographers. Somewhere in the chaos, I caught sight of Hoshi from one of my favorite K-pop bands, Seventeen. What were the odds?
That day became even more surreal when a TV reporter approached us. My friends insisted that I do the talking - probably because of all the vlogging I’d been doing for Instagram - and before I knew it, I was being interviewed by a national news channel about the Fashion Week madness. I talked about the fashion, the energy, and how wild it all felt - how Milan had transformed into something out of a movie. What started as an impulsive plan to see celebrities had somehow turned into my fifteen minutes of fame.
The next day, Diya, Coni, and I took on the Prada show - my personal favorite. The collection was effortlessly chic, and the celebrity lineup was even better: Hunter Schafer, Simone Ashley, Beom Woo Seok, and Anne Hathaway, just to name a few. Standing there with hundreds of others, surrounded by flashing cameras and couture-clad chaos, it felt like Milan had reached peak Milanese magic.
By then, the whole city - and honestly, all my friends - were in on our Fashion Week adventures. My phone buzzed with messages from people back home following the vlogs, cheering me on as I stood outside Fendi, Armani, and Onitsuka Tiger shows. Each day brought new crowds, new styles, and new stories. But more than anything, it brought me closer to the city itself.
When I first moved to Milan, I thought Fashion Week was for the elite - the editors, the models, the invited few. But standing outside those venues, laughing in the cold, filming vlogs with my friends, and getting interviewed on national TV - that was the moment Milan stopped being a city I lived in and became my city.
The beauty of Fashion Week wasn’t in the exclusivity - it was in the shared chaos. The sidewalks became catwalks, the barricades became front rows, and every street corner turned into a photo shoot. We didn’t need tickets or designer bags - we had curiosity, energy, and each other.
Because in Milan, the city was the runway. And that week, I realized I was already walking it.
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