Jumbled up pile of nerves. That’s what I was. One huge, irrationally thinking, sweaty palmed, jumbled up pile of nerves, and sadly for me, but fortunate for my fellow competitors, it really wasn’t working in my favor. My heart also happened to be beating about five times faster than the heart rate that is usually acceptable for a healthy seventeen year old girl of my stature. It also didn’t help that I had basically been preparing for this very moment for my entire life, reading countless books about how to make a good first impression and how to complete a successful interview, and here I was, finally in that fateful business office, waiting to hear if I had made it into the select group of prospective teenage girls hoping to score the internship of a lifetime at Teen Vogue magazine in New York City. In mere minutes I would find out whether my lifelong dream of moving to New York and becoming one of biggest names in fashion was in the palm of my hand or if it was simply a pipedream. While I sat there worrying about my fate, I thought back to the interview.


I was sitting in this exact spot with almost the same emotions, except this time I didn’t have the relief that it was finally over-that I had made it through. Instead, I was so nervous that I arrived over an hour too early because I was worried I would be late. Obviously, punctuality was a good quality, but I doubt the people at Teen Vogue view paranoia as a quality they are looking for in a potential intern. But since I was already there, I decided to go in anyways and make a quick pit stop in the bathroom to check on my outfit and hair.


In all my self-help books and in all of the Oprah and Tyra reruns I watched, they all said the same thing: make sure you dress the part. They also said that this doesn’t mean you need to dress like you just stepped off of a runway, but since this was a fashion magazine, I figured I should try my best to look as fashion forward as possible. I wanted to make sure I showed my interviewer that I was serious about fashion and that this internship was important to me and I was hoping my outfit demonstrated that desire. So into the washroom I went in hopes of tweaking my killer outfit that consisted of the ideal ratio of cheap to chic, just right for the occasion, and tweaking my makeup.


After about thirty minutes of adjusting my shirt and applying about thirty five coats of mascara in hopes of relaxing my nerves, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and opened the door to the bathroom. I then made my way to the waiting room, where I proceeded to, if possible, freak out even more than I already was. Remembering what the books said, I knew I had to try and calm down a bit and get more comfortable. I knew I was qualified and I knew I had the drive so it was time to shake off those butterflies and wipe away the sweat covering my palms and get ready for the opportunity of a lifetime.


While the time wound down, I slowly began to feel myself getting more and more confident so by the time my interviewer came out of her office, I finally felt ready.
“Hello! I’m Amy Astley, the editor here at Teen Vogue. I would just like to welcome you to the place where all the magic takes place,” I remembered her saying, then extending a hand for me to shake. Remembering what I read in those numerous self-help books I stuck my hand out and firmly grasped Amy Astley’s hand, praying to God that my little calming session minutes before helped reduce the incredible amount of sweat drenching my palms.
“Hi! It’s pleasure to meet you and I want to thank you for allowing me this
opportunity. I’m Kristen Peuvion,” I replied, hoping that my introduction came off as sincere and considerate, rather than brownnosing. I must’ve said something right, though, because she offered me a big smile and we got started on the rest of the interview right away. I breathed a huge sigh of realizing that I made it through the toughest part in my mind, the introduction. From that point on, all I had to do was prove that I was qualified for the internship and I was very confident in my ability to do that.


After about an hour of being interviewed, I walked out of the interview room and walked back out into the waiting room feeling both confident and nervous at the same time. And now here I was, back to the present where I was so caught up in my foolish, disorderly train of thought that I didn’t hear my potential boss call my name. This was it. This was the moment of truth; the moment this past excruciating hour of my life had been building up to. It was here. I was about to find out if all my studying of making the perfect first impression paid off, or if it was a huge waste of time. I was about to find out if all of my intense worrying was worth it, or if I should have never even bothered. I was about to find out whether I would be well on my way to joining the elite world of stylists, designers, models, and photographers, or if I would have to stick to mundane suburban life.


“Okay girls, I would just like to thank all of you for your interest in interning at Teen Vogue. Whether you get this internship or not, I want all of you to continue on in your hopes of entering the fashion industry. Just because you don’t get this, doesn’t mean that you won’t get any other internship. We only have so many positions available...” Amy Astley kept rambling on while I just prayed for her to get to the point. I didn’t need to here all of this consolation nonsense, I just wanted to know if I got it or not.


Finally I heard her say my name along with six of the other girls. I didn’t even need to hear her say I didn’t get the internship because I knew they only had four spots. So once she said those fateful words, “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any available spots for you at this time, but you can always try again next year,” I quietly grabbed by bag and began walking away. However, I didn’t get the chance to exit without being noticed because Amy Astley quickly called me over.


“Kristen, I would just like to say that I was incredibly impressed with you. Your interview great. You said and did all the right things, but I just feel like you’re too young right now, but come back next year and I’ll see if I can help you out,” she told me. So I guess the good news was that my numerous self-help books and the various shows I watched in order to improve my interviewing skills were beneficial, but I guess they just weren’t enough.